Claire, James, Ethan and Daniel: October 2012

In honor of James' first birthday tomorrow, I am posting the story of his birth as written by Matt. Enjoy!

Twelve days of bed-rest (doctor’s orders) and Mommy was more than ready to go to the hospital. For anyone who has never been confined to a bed for an extended period of time, or who has never been pregnant for that matter, the idea of “bed-rest” seems like a welcome prescription (imagine how often you’ve envied the lazy house cat). Those people would be wrong. Not only is this not a relaxing way to spend a week, it is most certainly an impractical way to prepare the house for a new baby while managing the needs of an 18-month-old; enter: Daddy and MM.

Mommy delivered Claire in April of 2010 after being induced due to the doctor’s concerns from high blood pressure readings. The same concerns were bound to arise while Mommy was pregnant with James, only this time we were notified by the doctor that those concerns had begun a little earlier… four weeks earlier. Since the beginning of October, Mommy measured and recorded her blood pressure every day while a concerned little Claire stood by and scolded the constraining cuff around Mommy’s arm. For months, Claire had been trained that her little baby brother was in Mommy’s belly and that his name was to be “James” (Claire pronounced this “Jeeps”) and was even lucky enough to keep the name secret whenever she was asked “what is your baby brother’s name?” by replying “…Elmo!” Claire grew to enjoy patting the growing belly and tolerated the lost space on Mommy’s lap, but the blood pressure cuff was not a welcome addition to this whole equation.

The prescription of bed-rest accelerated MM’s arrival by several days. A complicated feat at the time since Pops had taken a new job in Cleveland, Tennessee, while MM remained in Murrells Inlet, South Carolina, to get their house prepared for selling. MM had always planned on coming and the joy of spending so much time with Claire and being so close for the arrival of James. Daddy was able to manage taking full care of Claire, yet he was compelled to finish a project on the house that, in retrospect, was poorly-timed. It will be many years until James is holding a hammer and smashing his finger while trying to set a finishing nail at an awkward angle from a ladder, but Daddy had daydreamed all summer while working on various projects of how he would teach little James to do those things and more (not from a ladder of course, Mommy would never allow THAT). It was a joy to have MM around the house for those days of bed-rest despite the fact that Mommy began going stir crazy from being cooped-up inside while the beautiful fall days passed by. Mommy was also VERY glad to have help taking care of Claire and finishing the final touches on vacuuming and dusting (things James would notice and appreciate upon his arrival).

There were two more trips to the doctor since the first order of bed-rest, and each consecutive visit resulted in scheduling yet another appointment; the third was on Halloween. As much as we love fall and apple cider and pumpkins (and pumpkin-spiced lattes) Mommy and Daddy are not big fans of Halloween. Even still, had James been born on Halloween, we would very happy that he would get to share a special birthday with his great-grandmother: Mamaw Lyons. And while we may not be fans of the holiday for ghosts and ghouls, we will most certainly relent and have many silly birthday parties with a crowd of costumed children running about. So, during that third return visit on October 31, Mommy was told that “tomorrow” we would be going to the hospital to greet our new baby boy; a birthday of 11/1/11 which seems pretty neat to me.

The night before we left was not as stressful as it might’ve been otherwise. We had already packed for the trip, the house was tidy, and MM was already there to take care of Claire the next day. The hospital would call in the morning to let us know when a room was available; Mommy was so excited that she laid awake in bed from 4AM to 6AM like a child on Christmas morning. Not wanting to wait any longer, we called and were surprised to find that there were no beds available right away (think of that! The famous Northside Hospital “baby factory” was full!) Instead, Mommy and Daddy went out for a relaxing breakfast at Flying Biscuit; a small ATL chain with GREAT breakfast food. While at breakfast, we received the call that there was a room available at the hospital, and we should be there by 9:00.

We arrived at the hospital promptly at 9AM with very different recollections about how long it had felt since the last time we were there. Mommy felt as though it had been years, and I felt as though it were only last week. Things were different; the leaves were changing color, there was no abundance of pollen in the air, and we were traveling by a long-held memory instead of a map and recent tour just weeks before. Once again, we were strangely disappointed that the trip failed all of our television expectations of yelling among contractions in the car, jumping into a wheelchair at the front door, and hurrying into the bed before a baby popped out in the waiting room (all of this taking place in the middle of a rainy night). We strolled slowly into the alternate doorway, and by memory guided ourselves to the registration desk. In just a few minutes we were guided to delivery room C4 (if I recall correctly, this is just next-door to last year’s room) and we were wonderfully familiar with everything we saw. There was the bed with the impressive decoration of that framed the headrest, the baby care center where James would be bathed and measured for the first time under a warm light, the mirror on wheels that people talk about only under their breath, and the cushion under the “window” with a light switch nearby to conveniently turn off the sun. It’s too bad that soon after James was in Mommy’s arms, she would be wheeled away and the next two nights would be spent in a room only half the size of this delivery room.

The first nurse to greet us and tend to Mommy was a wonderful motherly woman. She was very kind and especially helpful in making sure Mommy was comfortable when the painful medicines were started. I teased Mommy just a little bit because she spoke with an accent and I could tell that Mommy was having trouble deciphering some of the conversations (this is not a big deal; she works equally hard to understand Sean Connery). Keturah was the nurse who arrived in the afternoon and also did a wonderful job to prepare Mommy for what was quickly becoming a countdown to James’ arrival. Things such as medicines, contractions, and epidurals seemed to progress at a much faster pace than last time, even though there were seemingly long periods in-between visits to check on Mommy. During the times in-between, there were quiet periods where Mommy would relax and read parenting magazines and Daddy would type this story on his laptop. I eventually went to eat some lunch at the hospital cafeteria, not sure whether I was: a) going to miss anything significant, b) appear rude by going to eat shortly after Mommy had been denied food until giving birth, or c) both. Only upon returning did the process start to gain speed and Mommy’s discomfort truly begin, but the midwife, Natalie, remained sure that we could expect to greet our little boy at around 5pm. Eight hours can simultaneously feel like 80 hours and 8 minutes at the same time depending on what moment is being focused on: James’ arrival or how much pain Mommy is in.

Eight hours?… well… no, make that 4 hours; that’s right: HALF the estimated time. Natalie encouraged Mommy to call for the epidural not long after they broke her water. Also, the petocin (used to begin the induction) was initiated at approximately the same time (say 1:30pm) and is known to increase the pain of contractions, so there was no doubt in our minds that Mommy would request the epidural soon but there was also no need to rush things. Unfortunately, Mommy’s body had a completely different schedule in mind and decided that sooner was better than later to send James out on his way. Painful contractions started rather swiftly once the petocin was started so Mommy indicated that it was time for Daddy to get off the phone (stop telling people “we’re going to be sitting here a while”) and call the doctor. We waited for the anesthesiologist and were told she would be there as soon as she finished in another room. It seemed to take forever. Here’s my best way of describing the pain I witnessed Mommy going through: a massive fireball of burning agony that we men watch from a distance and go “Wow, I, um, have absolutely no idea what goes on in the epicenter of that anguish but I feel pretty guilty right now;” plus, we feel pretty pathetic when we say stuff like “you’re doing great” while pulling our disbelieving jaws off the floor.

For 40 minutes, Mommy laid motionless with Daddy by her side, watching a little green line on an electronic graph and dreading the moment when it would take a turn upwards to indicate the next contraction. By the time the anesthesiologist arrived, Keturah was guessing that James would arrive somewhere between ‘right away’ and ‘in a little while’ which is as good an estimate as anyone could’ve given at that time. The epidural insertion procedure was familiar; it was more painful than last time but that was really less about the giant needle being placed into Mommy’s spine and more about the baby knocking fervently on Mommy’s door. When the giant-needle-in-the-spine-to-make-everything-feel-better procedure was over (an ironic concept, isn’t it?) we were both waiting for the moment when Mommy could breathe a sigh of relief; after all, our memories of the epidural were fairly positive because last time that little green graph would jump up sky high and Mommy would giggle because she barely felt a thing. This time was very very [VERY] different. Apparently, it was an intensifying race between James and the anesthesia to see who was going to get the better of Mommy. In this race, James had not taken a commanding lead, but he was rounding turn three and headed for the home stretch.

I watched as the room became active with nurses pouring in to prep the baby station, ready the delivery table, and pull out the stirrups in Mommy’s bed. These were not the kind of activities that were supposed to be taking place for a baby that was due in 2-1/2 hours. This birth was apparently imminent and yet they all looked WAY too calm compared to the agony on Mommy’s face and what was certainly a “deer in the headlights” expression on Daddy’s. Natalie said that the epidural should probably take full effect in about 30 more minutes, which was too bad (an understatement) because she paired that news with the announcement that our baby would arrive in just 10 minutes. I secretly wondered: does this count as a natural child birth? And is Mommy allowed to have a natural child birth if we didn’t: a) go to the classes, or b) get caught going into labor in a weird place like a stuck elevator? At the very least we were going to experience some of the TV-style drama that we had always joked about but never really wanted to witness.

One push; that’s all it took. Actually there were a whole lot of pushes that Mommy wasn’t entirely sure about, since they started even before the epidural and there was no one ready to catch James. She would say “I feel like I want to push” and no one was telling her not to, but it was apparent that they weren’t ready for him and I was struck mute because, well, what do you say in that situation? The “one push” I’m really thinking about was the big push right after Natelie had indicated that she was now ready to catch him (my words, not hers); it was one really big push followed immediately by an even bigger push followed immediately by a baby. I obviously didn’t feel or even see these pushes, but I sure heard them. Mommy is a relatively quiet person and isn’t one for shouting, which is why the vocal expression that I can only describe as a “war cry” was such a surprise. The bigger surprise was that by the time she had stopped to breathe back in, just that fast, there was someone else in the room crying out in reply. What I heard was soundtrack that is repetitively scripted in the emotional movie scene where the long-awaited child makes his grand entrance: the mother cries out amidst the backdrop of nurses and her midwife speaking repetitive encouragement, followed immediately by the first weak cries of her infant which is then harmonized by her joyful tears and surrounding congratulations as he is laid on top of her. My ears called me a mere spectator to this wonderful event, the lead lady and her lead guy taking center stage, but the tears streaming from my eyes and the sweet smell of Mommy’s hair as I kissed her on the head confirmed that Daddy at least had a supporting role.

As I anticipated, I was given the scissors to cut James’ umbilical cord and I was determined to not miss as I did 18 months prior when I first attempted the feat. Such a thing is difficult for a guy who is even slightly squeamish but I managed to make it through in one try and James appeared (thankfully) unfazed. They then brought him over to the super-duper-baby-station on the other side of the room and I followed with camera in tow. The baby station is an imposing contraption where he was to be cleaned and prepared while simultaneously being warmed and monitored. The thing I was most looking forward to was playing with his grip reflex while the nurse attended to him; I can’t help but smile even at the memory of placing my finger in the palm his tiny hand and feeling his own sticky warm fingers wrap tightly around my one.

Things had gone so well for Mommy and James that he was wrapped and returned to her even before his bath and weighing. Here, he would be granted an attempt to nurse for the very first time. Even if he hadn’t nursed, it was amazing just to watch him roll his head across his mother’s skin and open his eyes to stare into ours so very soon after he’d just arrived to the world. Mommy guided him to nurse and we were both surprised that he actually did! He managed to nurse just a little, and he would need more practice, but we found ourselves bursting with pride. During his bath, I noticed that James did not have an astonishingly deep voice such as the one recalled in the tale of my own birth. After his bath, I noticed that James did not mind – and rather enjoyed – being swaddled, which is again unlike the claustrophobic child that I was supposed to have been at his age. He enjoyed his blanket so much that he didn’t even mind the terrible job that Daddy had done in wrapping him (I was a little rusty) although he was noticeably thankful when the nurse rewrapped him and gave Daddy a refresher lesson before sending him back to Mommy. Oh, and the third thing that James managed to avoid inheriting from his Daddy was an early-onset-crankiness; maybe there was some crying to do later on, but for his first day he was simply too sleepy and (to his Mommy’s delight) cuddly.

James was born on Tuesday, November 1, 2011 at 2:44pm in Northside Hospital of Atlanta (or “Sandy Springs”, take your pick), Georgia. He weighed 6 pounds and 10 ounces at birth and was twenty inches long. He had a perfectly round little head covered mildly in dark brown hair about 3/4-inch long. His eyes, when he would open them, appeared a dark blue in the sunlight. His hands seemed quite large, with ten long fingers protruding from them and long fingernails as a finishing touch. Although his feet seemed small, his ten toes would not be outdone and looked to be as long as fingers themselves. His ears seemed to pin themselves back to his head, which made it quite easy to don his little hospital hat as he was being bundled up.

Mommy was moved to a recovery room on the sixth floor, which had all the amenities that we remembered from before but was noticeably, if even a little, larger than the first time. That evening, MM brought Claire to see her new baby brother and we were both anxious to see how she would react. When they arrived, MM knocked on the door and wheeled Claire’s stroller in first, then waited outside to let us all greet one-another. Claire was happy to see Mommy and Daddy again and knew right away that Mommy was holding a “baybee”. She sat at Mommy’s feet and was both patient and unbothered that Mommy could not hold her. Of course, this didn’t last for very long, but a baggie of grapes made her rather content to wander around the room (the baggie of grapes even made it into our first foursome family photo). As MM held James for the first time and cooed over him in the rocking chair, Claire reminded her that the baby was “seeping”, putting her finger to her nose (missing her lips) and told us all to “shhhh”. It was clear on that first visit, and even more-so on the second visit the next day, that Claire was enjoying her special alone time with MM since they played happily together in the room then Claire kissed us goodbye and said “night night” without a cry or whimper. She’s always been fairly flexible so we hope that the coming changes will only challenge and not break the limits of her flexibility.

Pops and Uncle Logan arrived on Sunday to welcome baby James and congratulate Claire on becoming a big sister. Bama and Dabo made arrangements to come the following week for their own precious alone-time with their new grandson. It was noticeably hard for them all to wait – Pops managing a mill on the brink of chaos and Bama healing a newly broken leg – but such waits are more manageable these days with email photos, video calls, and social media posts. In fact, in only a few hours after the first photos were sent to our relatives and friends from the hospital, we each had received many dozens of replies and congratulations. I’m not sure if James will be among the generation of “millenials” but I suspect that his will have to be a new generation called the “digitals” since nearly everything he’s done in only his first day has been captured by digital photo/video and some of it already sent over the internet to hundreds of adoring fans.

This is the message from his first blog post:

James Alan Huyser
Born 11/1/11 at 2:44pm
6lbs 10oz
20"

We know that we are truly blessed. We dedicate our hearts and gratitude to the One who created our little James and who entrusted us with his care.

That is the story of James’s birth – written from his father’s perspective and tuned with his mother’s keen copy-editing skills. This is only the first story we will get to tell.

James has had an exciting month. He can climb stairs; he took his first steps (on October 3 in the driveway); he has three new teeth (on the top, first came in the two on either side of where the front teeth should be and then came in his front right tooth); he points to objects; and he has several new words. The first word that he seemed to correctly associate with something was "cat." He has since added "duck," "up," and "uh-oh." He likes to look at books for short spurts of time and point to the pages while babbling. He loves pushing his walker and Claire's doll stroller around the house. He will go full speed in a straight line until he crashes into something, laugh, and maneuver himself around to the other side and take off again. He laughs really hard when we say "bonk" as he crashes.

James is also very physical. He is strong and fights very hard with his whole body when he doesn't want to do something. Lately this has included diaper changes, getting dressed, and getting into the carseat. He also seems to want to roughhouse. If any of us lies down on the floor, James quickly comes over and climbs on us as if he's tackling us. Thankfully, Claire finds it funny when he's gotten his tummy over her face and his hands in her hair.

James' nighttime sleep has gotten a little better, but the Michigan trip and a recent ear infection have thrown him off a bit. His naps usually only total an hour and a half each day--sometimes even less. James probably averages 12 hours of sleep in a 24 hour time period (with still waking up at least once during the night) compared with Claire's usual 15 hours during the same amount of time!

We've been trying lots of finger foods with James. His favorites are still crackers and yogurt melts, but a few times recently he's surprised us by eating sizable portions of a casserole that I've made. This weekend, he thoroughly enjoyed a turkey pot pie complete with corn, green beans, peas and carrots. He does well with most pureed food and is starting to spoon feed himself, which is entertaining, but quite a mess!

James loves to play outside, be around other people, open drawers and cabinets, dig though the rice box, and turn everything into a drum. He has an adorable smile that lights up his whole face, and his laugh is contagious. He is in 12 month size clothes and size 3 diapers and refuses to wear socks.

Claire is very observant and full of questions. She loves to play with her dollhouse, dolls, play food, and stuffed animals. We have been playing outside a lot with the nice fall weather. Claire likes to go on treasure hunts for little sticks, leaves, and flower pedals. She has a new tricycle that she is still learning to pedal by herself but is getting better every day. It's taken awhile, but she finally seems to enjoy sliding on the slide attached to her castle and at the playground.

All of our regularly scheduled activities--Kindermusik, Bible Study, preschool, MOPS, etc--are going well. Both kids seems to have fun and enjoy opportunities to be around other children and toys. We are so blessed to have so many fun activities to enjoy together!

A few days ago, I had a parent/teacher conference with Claire's preschool teacher, Ms. Nancy. Ms. Nancy only had nice things to say about Claire (I have a feeling they only say nice things about all the two-year-olds). She said that Claire is very vocal for her age and that she and the assistant teacher have laughed about letting Claire teach the class. They have been surprised by how much she knows and visualize her as the child who would organize a game for the other kids. Claire had her first picture day last week. I can't wait to see what it looks like! Claire can name all the kids in her class and has gotten to do several art projects. Circle time is usually the highlight of her morning at preschool.

Claire is in size 3T clothes and using pull-ups. We haven't really tried potty training very hard, but just let her go in her little potty when she shows interest.