Cool Things I Learned About Childbirth

If you've got a thing about blood, poop, or medical stuff, you may want to skip this post. Seriously.

As I stated in the previous post, I was heavily involved in the birth of our son about two weeks ago. I asked lots of questions, got as close as they'd allow, and kept involved as much as possible. I learned a tremendous amount, and had a great time on my little science-y field trip to the labor and delivery room with my wife. Here's just some highlights:

• Contractions are surprisingly consistent and predictable, both in frequency and magnitude. I loved the live data that the monitors were able to acquire regarding heart rate, blood pressure, and the contractions.
• Internal heart rate monitors (for the baby in utero) are actually screwed into his scalp when it's visible through the vagina. Like a tiny fishhook.
• The baby's first poop is actually meconium and is from swallowing amniotic fluid and such.
• Babies can have their first poop in utero. This can cause some problems immediately after birth, so the uterus is flushed out with clean fluid during delivery.
• Once the baby's head is out, things move pretty quickly. No, I take that back. Darn near instantly.
• Babies are sometimes born with splotches of vernix on them, which is a waxy, protective gunk. It kind of looks like soft, white cheese.
• Umbilical cords are much thicker than I thought and when you cut it, it feels like you're cutting rubber tubing.
• After the rest of the umbilical cord and placenta are delivered, you have to inspect the placenta to ensure that all of it made the trip out. Small pieces left inside are dangerous.
• The placenta and umbilical cord pulsate a bit after they're out. Yes, it's as creepy as it sounds.
• If the doctor decides that an episiotomy is needed, they're quick and precise with the scissors. If you blink, you miss it.
• There are different levels of tearing, one to four. Level two isn't bad.
• They put antibacterial gel on the baby's eyes shortly after birth to prevent infection.
• Babies sometimes come out with fine hair on their back and shoulders called lanugo. It falls out after a little while.
• There's a slick little tool that's used to perform the circumcision of newborns. It makes it darn near impossible to mess up. It even comes in different sizes. :)

All in all, it was a very educational trip.

YFNN

My Really Good Reason

It’s been a while since I posted, and I have a really good reason, I promise.

On Monday, February 9th, my lovely wife gave birth to our perfect baby boy. As a first-time father, I can tell you that it was absolutely unbelievable on so many levels.

First, I thought I was prepared mentally and thought that I understood what it would feel like to be a father. I wasn’t. Not even close.

As soon as he was born, I cried. When I held him for the first time, I cried. When I changed his first diaper and held his little hand, I cried. Even now, over a week later, I look into his tiny eyes as I hold him and just cry tears of joy. I was completely unprepared and I don’t think I could have ever fully understood before it happened.

Second, I learned that my wife is probably the strongest woman I have ever met. I had no idea that she had it in her. She was absolutely incredible. To see the anguish and effort that she went through was absolutely amazing. She was a trooper. She was WonderWoman. I will never forget her toughness she showed through 18 hours of labor and over two hours of pushing. She was completely inspiring and now carries an ever greater air of self-confidence and strength. I love what this baby has done to her.

With the touch-feely, decidedly un-manly stuff out of the way, I have to say that from a nerdy point of view, the birth and subsequent few days was awesome. I’m not one to shy away from questions or interactions, so it was like a big science-y, medical vacation for me. I learned about epidurals, meconium, and contractions. I learned how the contraction monitors work, how internal heart rate monitors work, and the whys and hows of the birth of a child. I got to see the first glimpse of my son’s head, and hear his first cries. I got to cut his umbilical cord and help with APGAR scoring. Not being one to turn down a science-y opportunity to learn hands-on, I learned about the afterbirth and the delivery of the placenta (much to my wife’s chagrin).

On the day after my son was born, I asked many questions to the pediatrician, and even got to help with circumcision. While it sounds a little disturbing, it was awesome.

I was lucky that the doctors and nurses we had were so friendly and open to questions. I’m sure they don’t get too many people like me, so I’m glad they were so willing to share their knowledge and allow me to get a little closer than most probably dare.

After being involved every step of the way, I can assuredly say that the birth of a child truly is nothing short of a miracle.

YFNN















(Isn't he cute?)

This Ain't Calculus

My wife is due in less than three weeks. Less than 21 days.

Yikes.

To say that I’m personally unprepared is an understatement. Now, don’t’ get me wrong here. I’m an engineer by trade, so preparation and organization is what I do. Our checklists are completed, items have been purchased and assembled, and the closet is stocked with diapers. I’m confident that our home, nursery, and all the required “stuff” is ready to rock (likely overly-ready-to-rock). Stuff-wise, I feel like we could bring home half a dozen babies and not need to buy a thing, but mentally, that’s a different story.

I’m usually calm, collected, and practical. I plan, I rehearse, and when the time comes for most things, I’m sure I can deliver. I’m the kind of guy that rehearses presentations and buys adequate life insurance. I’m confident. I perform well under pressure. That’s why this baby is beating me up. Sure, I’d like to think that I’m mentally prepared for this kid, and I think I do a pretty good job of convincing my wife that we should feel comfortable and ready (and we should!), but deep down I know that I’m personally not even close. What’s worse is that I know even with infinite planning, I'll never be totally prepared and that scares me. I’m not used to that at all.

It’s just that the consequences seem so extreme to me. If I botch a presentation or mess up at work, it’s fixable. If I bang up the car or burn down the house, they’re replaceable. But with this kid, I get one shot to get it right. No do-overs. No mulligans. If I mess him up, it’s permanent. Not only for my wife and I, but for the rest of his life too. That’s absolutely terrifying.

I’ve got the mechanics down. I know how to change a diaper; I know how to operate the carseat. I know how to carry him and I know what to look for when he’s ill. But, how do I know what to say and when to say it? How do I know what to teach and how to teach it? What if I teach him the wrong thing? What if I’m already out-of-touch with today’s kids? How do I even know if I mess up?

This is way out of my comfort zone. I like well-defined answers. Every calculus problem has one correct answer. One. Every design has one optimum. One. Every manufacturing process has one maximum efficiency. One. With this baby, there isn’t one answer, and that unbelievably frustrating.

I need a single solution. An optimum. A perfect plan of what to do and when to do it. It’s pretty obvious I’m not going to get it.

Maybe this is why I hated all those liberal arts classes in college; I need a right answer.

As always, any and all advice would be appreciated.

YFNN

The Great Closet Adventure, Part Two

I wanted to make sure that the closet I designed was efficient, functional and most importantly, flexible. I wanted the ability to move shelves and rods around as our closet needs changed and evolved. To me, this meant that everything needs to be installed on standards. (standards are the vertical beams that brackets attach to). That would allow anything to moved up and down in approximately 1.5" increments.

Flexible. So, I started installing the standards I had purchased on every stud in the room. All told, I installed 22 seven-foot standards. When I was done, looked a bit like a prison, with white bars even spaced every 16 inches.

Next, I referenced my parts list and double checked some measurements. Then I started cutting my shelves to length. The shelves I purchased were heavy-duty ClosetMaid shelves that were 12 inches deep and had an integrated hanging rod for clothes on hangers. Even though they were available in 4, 6, and 8-foot lengths too, I purchased the 12-foot lengths to reduce cost. I had a cut sheet drawn before I shopped, so I knew exactly how many lengths to get and how much waste I would have. I pulled out my DeWalt sawzall (my favorite power tool) and got to cutting the shelves to the correct length.

As I cut them one-by-one, I wiped them down and installed the plastic end caps to cover the rough ends. Then I moved the upstairs and installed them on the brackets in the standards. Before long, everything was cut and installed. I made some minor adjustments to the shelf heights and lengths, and at the end I was left with a total of only 18" of scrap shelf, in three pieces. Not too bad.

We spent the rest of the day putting the clothes back in and sorting and re-organizing my wife's clothes. When we were finished, we had gained about 7 linear feet of hanging space and another 12 linear feet of shelf space. We were able to get all of her clothes and all of my clothes in, and still space left over. Efficiency is beautiful.

My wife was amazed. Not only was there more room, but everything was still easily reachable and organized. I was referred to as the "closet magician" the rest of the weekend.

All in all, it was a lot of work, but the wife is happy, the baby has a closet, and I don't have to trek to the basement to retrieve my khakis in the morning. Complete success.

YFNN

The Great Closet Adventure, Part One

I lost my closet.

My closet has been taken over by an unborn child. You see, when my wife and I married, I got the closet in the spare bedroom upstairs for my clothes. The large walk-in closet in the master bedroom was inefficient and, um, full. My little closet was tight, but adequate. I even built some shelves to better utilize the top space above the hanging rods. Even though I had to go to a different bedroom to retrieve my clothes in the mornings, all was well and we were happy with our closet space.

However, when we found out that my lovely wife was pregnant, the spare bedroom upstairs was quickly deemed "the nursery'. At first, I thought "No problem. Baby clothes are tiny and don't need hung up anyway. My closet is safe." Boy, was I wrong. Through the nesting process (learn about that bit of fun here), I was firmly informed that baby clothes are indeed hang-able and will take up a lot of space. They even sell baby clothes hangers, which are basically miniature versions of adult hangers at higher prices, but apparently they're very important. Ask me how I know.

Anyway, I was also informed that under no circumstances was I to enter the nursery every morning at 4:30am to retrieve my clothes. So, I was ousted from my closet and had to come up another solution. The basement bedroom was out (too far), the office closet upstairs was out (full of office-y stuff), and the coat closets downstairs already house, well, coats.

So, that left me with reorganizing and increasing the space efficiency of the master bedroom walk-in closet. So this weekend, we set off on that task.

The master bedroom closet is a pretty big space, although oddly-shaped. The existing shelves and rods were installed by the previous owner and were in rough shape. They were the cheapest plastic-coasted wire shelves you could buy, supported by plastic wall hooks and flimsy sheet metal brackets. Nothing was screwed into studs, but used plastic wall anchors in drywall. Many shelves had started to droop and the anchors were starting to pull out of the drywall. To top it off, it was ridiculously inefficient. All the shelves were hung at approximately eye-level, leaving a three-foot space of unused space above them, and another 2 foot space underneath the clothes that hung off them.

Since the closet was already full of my wife's clothes, belts, and shoes, there was absolutely zero space for my items. Add that to the near-dangerous hardware, and it was clear that I needed to rip everything out and start over.

On Friday (I only work four days a week...more about that later, I suppose), we moved all of her clothing to a couple of portable closets and out of the way. Then we spent the remainder of the day removing the existing shelving.

Apparently, the previous owners were not engineers. Nor were they efficiency experts or likely even high school graduates. What they were, however, is lazy. Complete home improvement hacks. They were the type of folks that wire light sockets backwards so you get zapped with you change a lightbulb. Or the kind that add lights to the garage by looping wires over existing wires and just taping them up. Dangerous home improvement hacks.

As I stated, not a single screw in the closet was screwed into a stud. Screws were either screwed directly into the drywall (which means they did essentially nothing) or used plastic wall anchors of varying sizes. What's more, no less than eleven different screw sizes and types were used. Eleven! Apparently whatever they had laying around sufficed. They ranged from 2" deck screws to 4" wood screws and even some machine screws. Some had flat heads, some had round heads. Some required a Phillips screwdriver, some required a flathead. Some of the brackets were even secured with nails pounded into wall anchors.

Yep. Nails.

When we were finished removing the old stuff, I was left with an empty room with 64 holes the drywall ranging from 1/8" (screws directly into drywall) to 1/2" (BIG plastic wall anchors). Did you see that? Sixty-four holes. None of which lined up with a stud. Zero. I can't believe the whole system didn't collapse under the weight of Wifey's stuff.

So, I used an entire small container of putty and patches and got to work. Four hours later, everything was spackled, dry, sanded, and smooth. Since the putty matched the paint, it didn't even look too bad. I took some measurements of the room and grabbed my green engineering grid paper (yep, I'm a dork).

I made scale drawings of the room from all angles and optimized the space available with the parts I knew were available at our local hardware store. Before long, I had six scale drawings of the closet from varying angles with every shelf, rod, bracket and standard in place, along with a complete parts list.

90 minutes, $700, and one scary car trip later, I had every piece of hardware needed laid out in the garage. I set up my WorkMate (which are awesome) as a portable vise and went to bed. The rest would be tackled in the morning.

More later...

YFNN

Third Trimester Thoughts

My lovely wife is in the third trimester of her pregnancy (I won't even attempt to say our pregnancy...I'm not doing anything compared to her). On the general schedule of growing humans from scratch, that means she's just about finished. A couple more months, and we'll have a living, breathing, helpless person relying on us for everything. A bit scary.

The baby inside her apparently isn’t too well-versed on concepts like "day" or "night", so he'll kick whenever he damn well pleases. What this means is that wife never knows when she's going to get a swift kick to the spleen or bladder, usually resulting in a groan, moan, or grunt. Could be during a lovely dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant like Luce, or in the middle of a deep sleep. Baby doesn't care; he just knows he's gotta stretch out a bit.

Alien kicks. What's interesting to me (and uncomfortable to her) is that no longer can you only feel the kicks when you place your hand on her belly, you can actually see them. It not unlike that scene in the alien movie when the guys chest bulges and pulsates right before the alien busts on out. There have been times when I would swear that I saw the outline of a foot pushing on her belly from the inside. It's disturbing actually.
Pee. Every day is all about peeing for her. Before we leave the house, she pees. When we get to the restaurant, she pees. Before we leave, she pees. Getting showered and dressed sometimes requires up to three pee breaks. Even just making it through the night with only two pee breaks is a huge exercise in willpower and endurance. Fortunately, (and maybe I'm assuming too much here) all of the pants she wears now are stretchy and without buttons and zips...even the jeans. I would certainly think that would help drop the events down on the "pain in the rear scale".

Nesting. I had no idea. Seriously, no idea. The instinct to prepare is absolutely unbelievable. Suddenly, walls need painted, furniture needs moved, carpets need cleaned, closets need sorted, and there are constant ambiguous references to "getting ready." She's still got 8 weeks to go, and I'm already getting interrogated about packing for the hospital.

Emotions. It's like someone took her emotion output and amplified it ten fold. When she laughs, she laughs until she has tears in her eyes and her stomach hurts. When she cries, it's for silly reasons, and is as intense as I've ever seen. Certain foods make her dance in her seat, and disappointments crash her for the entire day. A rollercoaster? You betcha.

Words. This is probably the part that has shocked me the most. My wife has completely lost her grasp on the English language. Like a toddler with a 100-word vocabulary, she can never seem to find the right words to convey what she's trying to say. Ridiculous substitutions are common, and I'm usually at a loss to understand what she means. Usually I stare at her blankly as she frustratedly struggles to better define her intent. Examples? No problem.

She recently wanted to know if the basket of dinner rolls was still on the table from dinner, so she asked me "Is the bread-bun-pot still available?" What? Huh? Bread-bun-pot?

Or when she wanted me to put the dirty towels in the hamper last night, I was asked to "Please correctly place them in the roughrider." Yes, the roughrider. If you had an armful of towels and someone asked you to "correctly place them in the roughrider", you'd do what I did: stare blankly at them.

I can't tell you how many times she's been frustrated with me when I don't understand what she's talking about. Any and all paperwork is refered to as "information", regardless if it's a bill or a christmas card. She often refers to "the thing" and makes ambiguous hand gestures. What makes it even more difficult is that I find it so cute and endearing. It's nigh-impossible to keep from giving her a hard time about it.

So what's my role in this whole ordeal? Well, near as I can ascertain, it's my job to perform arbitrary organizational tasks, interpret the language of a crazy person, perform as a helping hand for getting out of cars and sofas, and exercise lots and lots of compassion and patience. And, I'm trying. I know that the frustrations I have to deal with are NOTHING compared to her daily ordeals.

The Latest Dance Craze!

Ultrasounds are funny things. The pictures are great and all, but the real treat is the live video, especially if the little guy is moving around.

It all looks like a pathetic attempt at doing the YMCA dance.

Don't worry though, I'm sure the wife (or maybe my mother-in-law!) will teach him the correct way once he leaves the her belly.

YFNN