The Birth of a Daughter10 min read

“Your Daughter Will Be A Bit Early”

On a brisk winter morning, we made our way to the hospital as it was time to attempt a version. Our daughter was not due for another 4 weeks. She had been in Frank breech position the whole pregnancy and had not budged naturally. Therefore, it was time to try to turn her around in an effort to allow a natural birth.

The Frank breech position is essentially like the pike position in diving. The baby is sitting in the placenta with their head up and is folded in half with their feet on their forehead. When you have a Cirque du Soleil baby such as this, your doctor will usually try to turn them around using a “massage” technique called the version. They try to flip the baby manually by manipulating the mom’s stomach to get the head pointing down. I say “massage” because it’s not known to be particularly relaxing…

Anyways, before attempting the manoeuvre, the doctor performed an ultrasound to get a sense of the situation. We did not expect what came next:

Doc: “Wow… There’s not much amniotic fluid in the placenta at all… No wonder she didn’t turn around. It’s a good thing you guys came in today. Otherwise you might have ended up with a dried raisin as a baby… We’re going to have to schedule a C-section pronto”

Me: “Wow! Good thing we caught that.”

Wife: “When is the C-section?”

Doc: “Monday afternoon.” (It was currently Friday)

Wife: “Alrighty! Baby comes when baby comes.”

As we headed back home, it dawned on us… We had two days to finish the essential of our “Pre-Baby To Do List” which was to be spread over the next 3-4 weeks. While I was happy we had caught this issue with the baby before it had any negative impacts, I also went straight into mourning for my “old” life…

The Pre-Birth Weekend Sprint

First things first, I called into work and handed off all my files. Note to self: nobody is angry about that when your reason is the birth of a child – at least, not to your face. My wife was starting maternity leave on this very day so timing there worked out (so much for a little downtime before baby).

We then proceeded to have the most productive weekend of our lives… Cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping, odd jobs, cleaning the car, filing taxes, setting hockey pool lineups, finishing “that book I’ve been meaning to read”, finishing Netflix – it all got done before Babygeddon (we stayed up way too late). Thankfully, our daughter’s room was already set up. However, I had an inkling I would regret the fact that we didn’t really rest over the weekend… I couldn’t help myself from binging on big gulps at the fountain of freedom. On Monday morning, we packed our bags and headed to the airport. We quickly realized our mistake and corrected course towards the hospital. We had been told to expect to be there a couple days so the trunk had an air of “weekend getaway” after packing which explains the mistake (“Hey Honey, should I bring the badminton net??”).

“Checking In” to the Hospital

A planned caesarian is the weirdest experience… You’ve psyched yourself up for 9 months that there’s going to be all this commotion at birth. Instead, you are calmly brought to your room and fill forms out to “check in”. I leisurely brought the bags in from the car while smiling at folks in the different waiting areas with “Hey! Im going to be a dad” eyes. It didn’t even cross my mind until later that they were probably not all there for positive, happy experiences… (“Who’s that goof?”) When I got back to the room, my wife and I had time to chit-chat, play some backgammon (in lieu of badminton) and wait for the delivery team to come get us. I considered a nap given the weekend we’d just had. That’s just the thought the universe needed to kick things into gear. It was time!

Just outside the operating room, I spotted a man in scrubs eating soup. Odd, but I did not think twice about it. The nurse briefed us on the operation timeline and mentioned she would send the surgeon to meet us shortly. A middle-aged, more salt than pepper decheveled man with red shoes walked up to us. “Hey! It’s the soup dude”, I thought to myself. He introduced himself as the surgeon and started cracking jokes. That’s when the country club vibe we had experienced so far vanished from my consciousness. I went into full irrational protective husband and dad-to-be mode. “Is this guy going to be good enough to get things done? He seems too relaxed! This is serious business! Who eats soup before serious business?!?”

I calmed myself down and came back to reality as I realized he was also briefing us on the particulars of the operation and I was missing it. There was no reason for me to be panicking and I wasn’t even the one getting the operation. I had to be a steady force for my wife in the operating room. She went in about 15 minutes before me for prep and they brought me in right before the surgeon.

The C-Section

During the operation, I was seated right next to my wife’s head as she lied face up. There was a big blue paper curtain right below her neck and her arms were rested on what I dubbed the “Jesus pose” arm rests. She couldn’t feel anything below her neck line due to the anesthetics. Probably a good thing because it seemed like the hospital was trying to curb it’s heating bill… It was freaking freezing.

My wife and I talked a bit as the operation got under way. She was pretty lucid for someone with 3/4 of her body disabled by meds. I kept telling her she was doing great and that I was proud of her. I covered her neck with a blanket when she also made the comment that it was freezing. When I asked the nurse if I could see what was going on on the other side of the curtain, I promptly got a frown, a head shake AND a finger wag. I knew that meant she was serious. I’m guessing they don’t want to deal with hysterical, fainting fathers during delivery. I can’t say I blame them.

The doctor said: “You’re going to feel a slight pressure.” We then heard what seemed like a WWE wrestling move occur on the other side of the curtain. I got the urge to say I didn’t feel anything but promptly told the dad joke part of my brain to take a hike. We heard crying. Poof! 3 nurses came out from behind the curtain and revealed a little purple thing. I was handed scissors to cut a piece of the already cut umbilical cord for what I imagine were ceremonial purposes… I did it but all I could think was: “Can we spend time on my daughter instead of me!?” It took a while for my daughter to start responding but she did just fine. No wonder! We had just prematurely woken her up from her long slumber at 37.2 weeks.

She was quickly snuggled up in a hospital blanket and they handed her to me. At 5.9 lbs, I was scared of breaking this tiny package! I walked her over to mom and the nurses helped me lay baby by mom’s head while she met her daughter. This only lasted a minute. I was told to take our daughter and to go wait in the recovery room while they finished the operation. Off I went with our newborn daugther while feeling like I was stealing a baby from a hospital…

Meeting my Daughter

When babies are born, there is rumored to be a small 10-15 min window after the commotion of birth settles down when they are extremely lucid and conscious. I can confirm that for my daughter, this was very much the case. While we waited for her mom, we were both very serene and focused on each other. She held my finger. I was hypnotized by her little face. Then I realized I was holding her directly in the sunlight that was coming in through the window. Aaaaah! What a dope… I moved my chair into the shade and we started over… That little moment lasted but a few minutes but felt much longer. When mom rejoined us, she met her daughter properly and we slowly made our way back to the hospital room to begin life as a family.

The next few days are a blur… On the afternoon of the birth, our daughter wasn’t getting warm enough. Her and I spent some time under what I suspect was the cafeteria’s hamburger warming light. It did the trick. Baby slept shockingly well this first night. The nurses hinted at the fact that this was normal but that night #2 wouldn’t be so kind. I told them I was holding out hope that we had a perfect baby. Unfortunately, they turned out to be right… Our daughter had us up every 30-45 mins on night #2. *Waves fist* Stupid competent and experienced nurses… Things slowly got better the following nights but not by orders of magnitude. I was starting to regret my ‘Last hurrah’ weekend…

Hanging Out at the Hospital

On night #2, I started doing laps of the hospital floor to give mom some breaks to sleep. I noticed there was a radio on in one of the storage closets. It was tuned to a classic rock channel. Commercials were playing as I walked by. Oh exciting! I walked in and told my daughter she was about to hear her first ever song and that it was in a repertoire I approved of… As the commercials ended, Bittersweet Symphony from The Verve started playing. Hmmm Not sure how I feel about that… I mean… It’s a good tune but the lyrics are about feeling trapped in your life and not being able to course correct. I hope you never feel like that, little one. You are more powerful than you know! I mean… You just bent the arc of my life!

During days #3-5, our daughter wasn’t making weight so they wouldn’t let us leave because of the risks of jaundice. She spent 24 hrs in the plastic ‘nursery box’ doing phototherapy to alleviate these risks. Essentially, it’s like a government sponsored baby tanning bed… At least, that’s what it looked like to me… The rest of the babies in the nursery looked huge to me in comparison to ours… I asked the nurse how old they all were. “They’re newborns”. *Jaw drops* “That came out of a human?!” What looked like a Eastern European couple of Olympic shot-putters walked in and sat next to the baby I was looking at. Aaaaah. Ok, that makes more sense…

Heading Home

On day #6, we were finally cleared to head home. We packed up our old and new stuff and drove home slower than I’ve ever driven… This is precious cargo! It was a brave new world… Gifts and cards started coming in… I was surprised! I don’t think I would have gotten as much attention had I won an Olympic medal… Then I realized the attention wasn’t for me. I am not cute enough…

As things quieted down, we got in the flow and started setting a new routine for ourselves. People tell you things will be different with a child and you know they will be. But until I was sitting there on the other side, it was impossible to internalize how my life had forever been changed by the birth of a daugther, my new hero.

Last Updated on September 1, 2022 by Joël Collin-Demers