Wednesday, April 24, 2013

The First Time




You always remember your first time...today is 4/24, 24 years to the day I became a father for the first time. His due date was still three weeks off, the baby shower ended only 24 hours before. But nature called in an unexpected and painful sort way. The classic term for her condition was toxemia, or more precisely preeclampsia; bottom line, Mom's body was saying no to the pregnancy. The situation called for Plan B: Induction.

The hallmark of toxemia is high blood pressure. My wife received "Cadillac care," but the process was difficult in spite of her medical team's efforts. Once laboring reached a critical point where the size of the baby's head was the immovable object, the mother's valiant pushing proved to be a resistible force. More intervention was required. The hospital was short-handed that night, so the F.O.B. (father of the baby, aka: your humble narrator) had to roll up his sleeves and help, too.

One thing they never made clear in parenting classes was the reality of a forceps delivery. "Don't worry, they're only used if necessary..." Right. I knew what forceps looked like, because they showed a picture in that class of a rather harmless pair of salad tongs. What appeared in that labor room was a massive metal set of jaws that I would categorize as a "farm implement." Intellectually, I knew that what I was looking at must be forceps, yet I couldn't reconcile their size with that itty bitty photograph.

There is some disagreement as to which was worse, the sight of my progeny's head all squished betwixt the blades of that post-hole digger or the mug shot of the baby after the delivery. "He looks like Gumby fought Pokey and lost," I was wont to say, trying to cope with the memory of the farm implement's handiwork. He recovered, remarkably quickly. Within a couple of days, his head reformed, the swelling went down, the marks disappeared. He looked...normal. Like a newborn should.

We named the baby Alexander, "leader of men." A more beautiful baby never graced this earth, a happier baby has never been heard. Now that twenty-four years have slipped by, he's grown to be 6'5", a blue-eyed handsome devil two years out of UCLA, just admitted to graduate nursing school at Georgetown University. I guess he'll be learning how to wield some "farm implements" himself pretty soon.

10 comments:

  1. The image of "He looks like Gumby fought Pokey and lost," is going to stick with me the rest of the day.

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  2. Being present at the birth of your child is an awesome experience for a father. I think the bond between father and child is made stronger and deeper when a father tells his child, "I was there. I saw you come into the world." Wonderful story, Dave. Thanks.

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  3. I like that you remembered the details with such clarity and I enjoyed reading your post.

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  4. Davyd,
    I love how the 'harmless pair of salad tongs' turns into a 'farm implement'. I think you've captured the love and bond you felt for your son, even before he arrived.
    Happy Birthday to Alex.
    Great post!
    Joan

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  5. Very clear and clean. I enjoyed the story and your style of writing. This could easily be expanded to a larger piece, creative non-fiction I think they call it. I don't know what you normally write but...food for thought?

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  6. Beautiful, feeling post, Davyd. Having participated in Alex's birth must have made you beam. Thank you. xoA

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  7. Wonderful, moving post, Davyd, from someone who also knows a bit about that "farm implement". And best congratulations to Alex for his admission to my alma mater -- GU has a fantastic nursing school. I know he'll have a great time there and in D.C.

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  8. I'm still laughing at the "He looks like Gumby fought Pokey and lost" line, but also smiling from how sweet this post was. I really enjoyed reading this.

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  9. Congratulations! You must be very proud of him. I enjoyed your post very much. Moving and fun to read.

    Mandy

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  10. I didn't wield a farm implement, but I didn't do very well with the scissors; nobody told me I should hold the clamp when I cut the cord, and they teased me when the clamp swung by the cord. But, she seemed none the worse for it.

    Great post. Hard to believe that little bundle and the big man are one and the same, isn't it?

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