Elaina's Birth-Day Revisited

I finally have a few minutes to write after the wham-bang past two weeks since my daughter Elaina was born. Rather than just bore you with an endless run-on of "mommy-and-baby-are-doing-great" cliches, an embellished events chronology starting from when left the house to go to the hospital and ending with birth I feel is the best way to encapsulate the day. I had better do this now because, after all, Time is now flying by even faster now...not like it wasn't already. (See earlier posting)

As you read, don't forget to make a mental note of the memorable quotes from doctors and nurses as I assure you, some of these you will NEVER hear again.

8:30AM We get up, have breakfast and get in the car for the marathon 3.5 mile drive to the hospital. "Why does this seem weird?", I say to my wife. She laughs.

I continue. "We woke up this morning and by lunch, we'll have another child. This seems...we'll planned," I say.

She says, "That's why this is called a 'planned' C-Section."

I nod in agreement.

9:10AM Now at the hospital, a pile of paperwork was immediately thrust at us that would make filing your taxes seem like writing thank you cards for Christmas. My wife and I feverishly check boxes, initial and initial some more.


9:12AM The nurse hooks her up to an IV as she continues to dot I's and cross T's.

The nurse asks, "So what are we having today?"

Seems harmless enough but the fact that this was a planned "C" made the question seem on par with a inquiry like, "Would you like to have fries with that?" I mean that not to diminish the birth of my daughter, she just asked the question so "matter-of-factly" and I wasn't ready for it.
9:25AM I utter the word "SPHYGMOMANOMETER" for the third time since arriving.

10:20AM I get dressed in my operating room garb.

10:35AM My wife is wheeled into the OR.

10:40AM I wait patiently for the doctor to arrive. He shows up with a Jeff Gordon surgical hat on, scrubs up, tells a few off-color jokes and proceeds to the OR.

10:40:10AM I remove flask from my back pocket and promptly take 2 shots.

10:42AM I pop a few Tic-Tacs to cover up the smell of J.D.

10:52AM The C-Section begins. I hold my wife's hand as I watch the Nascar-loving doctor slice into her abdomen. There is something surreal watching your wife being opened up while medical technicians utter phrases like "more suction" or "clamp" or, and this is my favorite, "pass the metzenbaum". This is not to be confused with the aged former Ohio Senator Howard Metzenbaum who at last check, has never performed a C-Section.

10:54AM A nurse asks me how it is to work with local celebrities. Before I could answer the question, she continues on her lengthy diatribe on how she often runs into a few of these local celebrities at the grocery store on Saturdays. She doesn't take the hint that I could really care less given my wife is on the operating table numb from the chest down. So she continues to tell her story while I watch the water break.

10:56AM Our baby girl, ELAINA GABRIELLE was born, 8 lbs. 14 oz, 21 inches.

11:00AM I cut the cord.

11:30AM Back to the room.

Fast forward to 3PM.....

A nurse enters the room to check in on my wife. She then says the most strangest sentence I guarantee I'll EVER hear.

"YOU HAD THE MOST LUSCIOUS PLACENTA I'VE EVER SEEN!"

I quickly retorted, "What does that mean?"

Mistake number one was to ask a follow-up question. A mistake that I quickly regretted.

She answers, "Oh, it was just so red and full."

At this point, I had nothing. I mean, where do you go from that answer? I'll tell you where, you don't say a word and pretend like the dialogue never happened. So I took the path of least resistance and went to get a cup of coffee.