Third time's a charm(er)

This entry was originally written in shorter form mere hours after Zienna's birth, but my latest Blogger crash, as I was scrambling to post before heading back to the hospital, caused me to lose everything. In the much busier days since then, I've tried to recreate what I'd written, adding additional details and impressions, along with an overdue account of the weeks’ events. I apologize for the delay--but not for choosing to spend time with Zienna and Kelly over sitting in front of the computer!

— Scott

Having had a bit more than a week to reflect, I'm still marveling over how witnessing firsthand the birth of your child is without a doubt the biggest E-ticket ride going in life. I can't imagine any other experience that could leave one so in awe of the mighty forces of God, Mother Nature, or whoever or whatever it is that controls this big old ball we're living on. For a close second, I'd go with the power of a major earthquake or weather system, or perhaps the grandeur of a Grand Canyon or Mt. Everest. But for my money, plain old childbirth—something we so often take for granted when we're not witnessing it firsthand—wins hands down.

If you're reading this, you probably already know that the final installment of the Z Kid trilogy debuted last Friday, May 26, when Zienna Ione ("eye-OH-knee," in memory of Kelly's paternal grandmother, although she pronounced it differently) Hamilton took her first breath at 9:46 am Pacific Time. Weighing in at 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and measuring 20 inches, she bore from the get-go a striking resemblance to her siblings—especially her sister—right down to the tuft of brown hair and, um, prominent nose. But in contrast to her siblings, she took to the breast instantly, and despite being passed from one relative to another in her first moments of life, she was calm and quiet, content to rest in the arms of whoever was holding her. Maybe this will be the mellow Z Kid—or at least we can hope.

Zienna's arrival came quickly once, like Zach and Zoë, she overshot her due date. At Kelly's checkup last Thursday, her obstetrician, Dr. Laura Davidson—a Wonder Woman of a doctor if there ever was one, with a beaming smile and infectious, positive energy—initially expressed reservations about inducing, given the lack of complications and apparent normal size of the baby—a new concept for us, to be sure! But when Kelly explained that pain in her ribcage was limiting her sleep to a few hours each night, Dr. D quickly changed her mind and scheduled an induction for that evening. So, after a nice, relaxed dinner with the kids, Grandma and Grandpa Loop (Kelly’s folks, Dede and Dale), and Kelly’s sister, Shannon, I drove Kelly to the hospital and helped her settle in before heading home so we could both get a good night's sleep. The plan was for me to drop the kids off at school the next morning and then leisurely head back to the hospital.

Suffice to say those plans were altered just a bit when, at 6:30 the next morning, Kelly called and asked that I get to the hospital as quickly as possible, as her contractions were already increasing in intensity and frequency—roughly four minutes apart at that point. I showered in record time and jostled the kids from sleep, and they dressed like champs, getting us out the door in record time. Once Zoë’s preschool teachers caught wind of what was going on, they pushed me out the door before I'd even signed her in, and I zipped across town, thankful for the absence of traffic in our new hometown.

When I arrived just after 8:00, Dr. D had just departed after determining that Kelly's cervix was roughly 6-7 centimeters dilated. After settling in, I did all I could to support Kelly and make her feel comfortable. An hour later, there’d been little progress, and our nurse suggested that Kelly roll onto her side. This turned out to be a great suggestion, because a half hour later, Kelly’s cervix had cooperated, and she was ready to push.

This is, of course, my version of things, and I was not the one feeling as if my body were being turned inside out by a watermelon emerging through an orifice. With so much progress in dilation and effacement in such a short time, the pain took its toll, and Kelly finally gave in and asked for an epidural. So, the anesthesiologist was called, but he was tied up with another patient. In the meantime, Dr. D showed up and announced that—sorry, no epidural—it was time to push. Looking down, I was shocked to see that Zienna was already beginning to crown!

So, with the nurse grasping one leg and I the other, Kelly attacked the heavy lifting portion of things. One push, and I was looking at Zienna's head. Two pushes, and I was looking at her shoulders. One more, and our beautiful baby girl was secure in Dr. D's steady hands, with all eyes in the room gazing upon her. After taking in that sight, I grasped Kelly’s hand and squeezed it tightly, in complete awe of what she’d just done and how relatively effortless she’d made it seem.

This is where the E-ticket ride really kicked in. At Zach’s birth, I was so overwhelmed that felt like I might pass out, and my tears promptly turned from joy to panic when the nurses whisked him away because he wasn't breathing. With Zoë, I knew what to expect and was more relaxed, but if you ask me to describe the experience, I can't, because it was still so overwhelming. This time, things were no less surreal—I couldn't hear or see anything but Zienna for several seconds after first laying eyes upon that little face and body—but it was a warm, comfortable feeling that enveloped me. I’d gladly have remained in that state longer if it had been possible to do so. It was like baby nirvana.

Alas, the feel of tears streaming down my cheeks and Dr. D's voice asking me to cut the umbilical cord snapped me back to reality all too soon. At least my baby girl was there to greet me, gulping in her first breaths while proving that miracles really do happen.

At Zach and Zoë’s births, Kelly had to endure torturously long waits before spending any significant amount of time with them, as each had been whisked away for cleanup and tests in the nursery, with me at their side. But this time, once she'd been wiped off and given a quick once-over, Zienna was promptly plopped onto Kelly's chest, a fitting reward for her efforts. Though Zienna would be passed around to waiting arms over the next couple of hours—when Daddy’s nursery time would finally come—she spent a good amount of them in Kelly's.

Knowing everyone else wanted to meet Zienna, and wanting Kelly to have quality time with her, too, I decided to pick up Zoë myself. The drive across town is mostly a blur, although I remember the horde of teachers, parents and students crowding around me when I offered to show them pictures less than an hour old. And then, with my big girl on board, I again headed back to the hospital. By the time I arrived, the fact that yes, the birth really had taken place, had begun to set in. And as it did, that warm feeling of satisfaction started to come back, too, where it would stay until...well, until now, as it still hasn't worn off entirely. Back in the delivery room, I sat down and laid claim to my first decent share of snuggle time with Zienna, a feeling that any parent knows really can't be described in words.

When Zach arrived several hours later, shuttled over by Grandma and Grandpa Loop, it was like a wonderful homecoming, as our newly-augmented family finally felt complete. Upon first seeing Zienna, Zach stated quite matter-of-factly that he was "skeptical" about her. After all, this is the boy who cried when he learned he'd not be having a brother. But within minutes, he was cuddling her like an old pro and whispering into her ear sweet nothings that only an adoring big brother can whisper. And shortly afterwards, he was arguing with his sister—and she with him—over who would get to hold Zienna next, and for how long. So much for worries about them accepting her!

Fortunately, even though the labor and delivery had progressed so quickly, Kelly had much less tearing than she had with the previous births. Still, when Dr. D examined her on Saturday, she agreed to extend Kelly's stay until Sunday so she could rest adequately before heading home. When we arrived Saturday afternoon for a visit, Kelly looked, as she had when we'd left her Friday, tired but otherwise fabulous. With the grandparents anxious for Z-time and the three of us tired and emotionally drained—and conscious of Kelly's need for rest—Zach, Zoë, and I headed home and laid low for the rest of the day.

By Sunday, we a bit more rested, yet I could sense I wasn't the only one feeling that, while the last-chance-ever two-on-one Z Kid quality time had been nice, there was something missing. And with that something waiting for us at the hospital, the kids literally ran to the car when I announced it was time to pick up Kelly and Zienna. Arriving home a few hours later didn't quite have the dramatic "crossing the threshold" feel I recall from Zach’s (and to a slightly lesser extent, Zoë’s) homecoming, but it definitely felt right. At some point during the day, the phrase "the five of us" was uttered—I can't recall by whom—and I almost corrected whoever said it. But aside from that, once Grandma and Grandpa left for the day, and we were left alone—the five of us—there was no doubt that our new family was gelling just fine, thank you.

Monday was a typical Hamilton holiday—barbecue, baseball, and lots of relaxing—and Grandma and Grandpa came over to share Memorial Day and steal some more snuggle time with their granddaughter. By Tuesday morning, they’d headed home, and while we'd enjoyed their visit and help, it was time for our nuclear unit to get on with the business of establishing ourselves as a family—which we promptly did. In fact, it might have felt like just another routine day if Zach hadn't woken up with another stomach bug—and were it not for the sweet little baby altering and, yes, complicating our routine just a bit.

Not that any of us was complaining, mind you. Concerns about “one more” and “it’s a girl” were clearly things of the past, and we all agreed—the four of us—that Zienna’s a keeper.