The weeks leading up the Nov 25th were full of nerves and anxiety. It was either two or three weeks before Joni's due date that we were at a weekly check up and the Doctor notified us that Joni was dilated 1 cm and 80% effaced. Being a first time father, I had no real idea what any of that meant, other than to say that some stuff started happening, and that stuff meant that our baby was on his way. Knowing that there had been some movement it was triggered my nerves, it seemed like I was checking on Joni every time the wind changed direction to see if that subtle change in the environment expedited the pace of our son's decent. I didn't like going in to work because I was worried she would go into labor while I was stuck in traffic. I didn't like going to sleep, because quite frankly I didn't want to be in bed if and when her water broke. And sometimes I didn't like being with her because of those unpredictable pregnancy hormones (kidding). Ironically, the morning of the 25th, I wasn't so anxious anymore. I had been on edge, for so long, that the reality that something incredible was about to happen had come and gone.
It was a normal Monday for awhile. I went to work, tried to find things to do that would keep me busy while also being productive, and then started getting anxious again. I wasn't anxious because I thought Joni might go into labor while I was at work, I knew she wouldn't. I was anxious because we were going to the hospital later that night and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Our lives were going to change and the course of that change would be completely out of my control for at least the next day or two.
When the work day was finally over I got back to our apartment and it was a bit of a strange feeling, almost awkward. Joni and I knew that we had 3 or so hours to burn before we left our home for the last time as just the two of us. When we ate dinner it was clear that she was nervous. We had heard that being induced was not a pleasant experience, that it often times made things a lot harder on the mother. She had been uncomfortable for a couple weeks and was having trouble sleeping, breathing, and so many things that her physical morph had made difficult. After we ate dinner, she asked if I would give her a blessing. It was one of my favorite experiences of our marriage. There was just such a sense of calm and pure love of our Heavenly Father. It was incredibly apparent that He was aware of all our fears and anxieties, that He loved us, and that He would make sure that everything was Okay.
When we got to the hospital (around 9:30) I dropped Joni off so that she could start checking in and I could go park the car and gather some of our bags (we did NOT pack light.) We went through the process of giving out insurance information and signing our lives away and got settled in a room. The hospital we were at was excellent and we really liked our nurses. It seemed like our first 3 had some kind of connection to Logan and Utah State (I was wearing a USU t-shirt) so there was always something to talk about. Right at about 11:00 they gave Joni Cervadil and a few other things so that she could get a good nights rest. Cervadil essentially is supposed to soften her cervix and get her ready to be induced the next morning (the Cervadil has to be administered for 12 hours before they start Petocin.)
Things kind of settled down after Joni got her medicine and it was time to try to get some sleep. Joni went out pretty quickly a little before midnight and I laid there on my little couch-bed thing at full anxiety level! I was exhausted but didn't think there was any way I could fall asleep. Between everything that was running through my head, and the nurses that were running in and out of our room, it seemed like the last night I had to get a good nights rest without interruption from a screaming baby was a dream rather than a reality. I finally stopped starring at the clock around 1:45 and nodded off. I heard a few things here and there, but tried my best to roll over, away from the distractions, and get some rest!
I woke up around 2:30 and could tell that something was wrong. Not really that something was wrong, but that something had changed. The nurse was moving a little bit more abruptly than she had been for the previous few hours and Joni was in some clear discomfort. I finally came to the realization that she was crying and in a lot of pain as her contractions had started getting pretty severe. They gave her some medicine to take the edge off while she waited for the epidural. They also informed us that she was now 80% effaced and dilated 3 cm, so things were definitely moving. We both fell back asleep and got up at 5 when the anesthesiologist came by to start her epidural.
For me, seeing Joni get the epidural was the worst part of the entire hospital visit. I was sitting in front of her, facing each other, so I wasn't seeing exactly what was happening, but I did see the tools he was using and I could tell that while he was inserting everything it was hurting Joni a lot. He was hitting some nerves in her back and just seeing the discomfort on her face starting making me feel sick. I started getting the cold sweats, clammy hands, and light head. It got to the point that I just put my head down to avoid falling off the stool I was sitting on, and luckily it was over after that! In my defense, I hadn't really eaten or drank anything in quite a while, so let's chalk it up to dehydration or something like that ;)
At this point we finally saw our doctor for the first time that morning. She came in some time between 6:30 and 7:00 and said that she really liked how Joni was progressing but she had a lot of other people who had been in labor a lot longer who needed their baby's delivered. Even though we were not the doctor's top priority at this point, she did break Joni's water just after 7 o'clock. Since we had some down time and Joni wasn't in pain anymore, we both went back to sleep. I woke up at 9:00 to the news that things started progressing very quickly after the broke her water. Joni was now 100% effaced and dilated 8 cm. By now in the pregnancy process, I knew that asking for a prediction on timing was more likely get the doctor to look at me like I had male genitalia growing out of my face than it was for me to get a straight answer. But with those numbers, which I knew here high, I asked the nurse if what she thought. She looked at me funny at first...but then said she would bet we would have our son in our arms in less than two hours.
The first time they had Joni push was at 9:15. Three pushes for 10 seconds, per contraction. The nurse said that she could easily feel the baby's head and could even see that he would have to hair (much to Joni's delight!) The doctor came back in after Joni gave three rounds of pushes. She was very much in a rush and very much overwhelmed. She had already delivered 3 or 4 babies and had another woman who didn't have an epidural and "isn't smiling right now." (As you can imagine, Joni looked gorgeous and was her happy, positive self despite being hours away from having a baby.) So we had to wait. The crown of the baby's head was visible at this point but we couldn't do anything but wait until the doctor was available to deliver.
We finally got the doctor all to ourselves a little bit after 10. At this point the baby had been sitting so low for so long that there was a lot of pressure on both him and Joni. Luckily since she had an epidural it didn't feel like anything more than pressure to her, I'm sure it would have been incredibly painful otherwise! With the doctor and her crew all set up and ready to go, at 10:30 it was time for Joni to start pushing again.
I remember watching the birth video in my 9th grade Biology class. I remember describing the scene as a "disgusting purple football." Needless to say, seeing that video at 15 ensured that I was certain I didn't want to be starring down the valley during the birthing process. There are just certain things involving my wife that I don't want to see. All that being said, I grabbed a spot of prime real estate in that delivery room on her left side at about shoulder level. I was able to observe the process of the gift of life without seeing all the gore that goes along with it. But I digress...
Joni did such a great job during the labor process. I really was blown away. I was fully expecting her to be a bit of a drama queen and thought even though it would undoubtedly be an incredible experience, it would also be like getting my fingernails plucked off in the process. I was completely wrong. She took everything like a champ. She pushed every time she was asked to push and seemed to smile through all of it. She is a machine built to have babies. I first saw the baby's head from my post about 10-15 minutes before he was actually born. I knew that she was so close but really didn't know what that meant time-wise. With one last, strong push, our son was born.
As soon as he was born I was overcome with emotion. I broke down the moment I saw him. I was finally able to see the miracle that had taken 9 months to happen. I couldn't hold back my tears and almost felt frozen. I felt like I was a distant observer, stuck knee deep in cement while a whirlwind of activity swarmed around me. It was such a surreal experience. I cut the chord and watched them take care of him. They cleaned him off, weighed him, measured him, took his prints, wrapped him up, and handed him to his mother.
I don't even know who it was who said it, I think it was the doctor, but it may have been a nurse who said, "don't be afraid to touch him dad, he's all yours." I reached out, and through tear soaked eyes, saw my finger touch his tiny foot. I can't articulate what I felt. A great consummation of the joy I had been feeling since the day I found out Joni was pregnant, the emotion of the last 24 hours, and the great and eternal love of our Father in Heaven who's presence shown down more brightly upon me that day than it ever has. I've had a lot of great days in my life, but I can't think of any experience I've ever had that could top this one. I looked at Joni holding out son and my heart melted. One of the things that I really admired about her from the day we met was the great maternal potential she always had. There was never any doubt that she was going to be a great mother, there is no doubt that she IS going to be a great mother, it's a quality that I've loved about her since day 1.
After a few hours of changing rooms, allowing the dust to settle, and just enjoying the first sacred moments of being a family of three, we started talking about his name. We had already decided that his first name would be Cooper. He was born on my grandpa's 80th birthday. My grandpa has three daughters and I'm his first grandson. My middle name was given to me in honor of him, I'm the only one who carries on his name, and there was little doubt that on this day, Cooper would be named after his great grandpa Keith.
Cooper Keith McDonald has allowed me to love like I never imagined possible. I love him and his mother more than I can describe and hope that I will be able to be the father and husband that they deserve. I have so much that I want to teach Cooper. There are so many things he needs to know. Of all the things I hope he learns, perhaps the most important is to know that no matter what life throws our way, I will ALWAYS love him.
I loved it! It made me cry! I can't believe you're a parent!
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