The wait is over, my niece is here. And what a wait! We jumped in the car Thursday night and after 5 hours in the car (thanks to downtown traffic and lots of night time construction) I deposited hubby and 3 boys in a motel in North Austin and bustled over to the hospital. I was in a huge hurry to get there so I didn't miss anything, but I shouldn't have worried. I spent the next 4 hours sitting in a waiting room chair along with my parents, getting sporadic updates until the baby was taken via C-Section at 4 a.m.
She is gorgeous with a full head of dark hair and my brother's long toes. 7 lbs, 14.5 ounces and 20.5 inches long. Perfect. Beautiful. I've never seen my brother so happy in his entire life. Through tears and over-tired babbling, I forgot to say what I wanted to say to him - 'Welcome to the other side!' Oh well, he's there now. The new family came home from the hospital yesterday afternoon and have now begun the journey of parenthood. It will be very interesting, and I dare say fun, to watch Matthew on this road. He's always been the best uncle you could ask for your children. He's great with all kids and all of our friends love to have him around their little ones as well. But it's different when it's your own. It's more.
Matthew was awesome for the labor and delivery, but I expected nothing less. After all, he had been through this once before. He was my birth partner and support for my labor with Tyler. I remember feeling akward about asking him, I knew my mom would be there to help too. But I wasn't sure how I would react to labor and I wasn't sure how I would react to my mother during labor (funny really, because I would never consider having a baby without her there and she's really awesome), so I wanted a calming influence as well. Matthew didn't even let me get the whole request out of my mouth before he said yes. He knew what I needed and gave freely. He went to birthing classes with me, practiced breathing excersizes with me and remained on call for the last 6 weeks of my pregnancy.
Granted, the night that I actually did go into labor he was out with his buddies and hard to track down because he had left his pager in his truck. We had to actually send someone to find him, but since Denton isn't that big and he had a few hard favorites it wasn't impossible. He met me at the hospital after I was hooked up to monitors, checked in and verfied that my water had indeed broken. Isn't it funny how they have to do that? I mean, there was no question in my mind since the pop and gush had woken me out of a dead sleep. With every contraction enough fluid came out to make me think I had wet my pants. By the time I got to the hospital contractions were coming steadily and not very gently anymore, but the nurses still couldn't take my word for it. They still had to check and make sure I wasn't imagining things and that I was truly in labor.
Still, Matthew came in armed with coffee and a steady dose of humor. He rubbed my back and talked me through contractions. He helped me visualize one of my favorite places. He was a trooper, even though I wasn't. I remember after several hours when they checked me and I had only progressed a centimeter or two, I thought I was never going to make it and I didn't really HEAR everyone when they told me 'you're paper thin - almost completely effaced'. That was the more important piece of information at the time, but all I heard was 5 centimeters and couldn't get passed it. I agreed to the epidural.
Here's the thing, after 3 babies I now know how my body likes to labor. I get stalled at a 5-6 every time until I am completely thinned out and then skyrocket through the rest of labor. But since this was the first time, I had no idea. In my pre-labor arrogance, I had submitted a birth plan that insisted I didn't get an IV unless I needed one. So even though I was ready at that moment for an epidural, I had to get the IV and fluids to hydrate me for an hour before it was actually administered. In the mean time, I continued to labor and struggle. And then I even got sick. They didn't check me again until right after I got the drugs and I was at an 8-9. I probably had just gone through transition and if I had known differently, I would have made a different choice. But the epidural was there and labor slowed down a bit. I rested, Matthew caught a nap and we waited.
When it was finally time to push, we notified the army in the waiting room that it wouldn't be long. Words spoken way too soon. I pushed for 3 hours before Tyler finally arrived. He was posterior, wouldn't come under the bone. They turned him several times (moments I was grateful for the epidural), but as soon as they were out of the way Tyler would turn right back over. The drugs wore off and contractions came back with crushing force, leaving me begging to have the meds topped off again.
It didn't feel like 3 hours to me, of course, it felt like a lot less. However, I was so ready for it to be over. I was tired and in some kind of weird zone where everything around me was muted and I was only able to focus on one tiny thing at a time. Through it all, Matthew and my mom stood by my side counting over and over again, coaxing me through it. At some point, the doctor considered a C-section, but I had made enough progress that it would have been a bigger risk and taken longer than they wanted, so they decided on a different course.
The nurses whispered to my support team that when they started counting everyone should back away from me and steer clear. My family and I had no idea what was coming. A contraction started, the staff counted, my family moved away from me and suddenly my doctor was up on the bed with me and helping me push by pressing hard on my stomach. It was enough to get Tyler's huge head under the bone and then Dr. B. jumped down and made it to the other end of the table in time to catch my son. It was surreal.
Tyler was here, but he wasn't breathing. They were suctioning and alarm was growing. They were heading to the bassinet and Dr. B. was starting to call for a NICU team when Tyler took a huge breath and let out a scream to wake the dead. Longest 20 seconds of all of our lives. The nurses were still scrambling and trying to determine whether or not Tyler needed assistance, but then the doctor said 'Give him to his mother', the all-clear. Tyler was my double miracle. I shouldn't have even gotten pregnant with him (2 forms of birth control, yet here he is) and then the breathing drama. I have always called him my miracle and my saving grace.
I don't think I'll ever forget how that moment felt - holding my son for the first time. I was crying - heck, I'm crying right now again while I write this - and he was screaming. I talked to him and tried to soothe him, but he was really mad. I was flat on my back and couldn't really cradle him, so I crooned and shushed and put my hand to his face. Then his little fist reached up and grabbed hold of one of my fingers and he immediately got quiet. I remember thinking 'You and me kid, we're a team'.
I don't remember the order of who held him first or next. But I remember each one of my family's faces when they held Tyler for the first time. He was our first baby, the first nephew, the first grandbaby. My sister was so overwhelmed, she couldn't even hold him right away. She just looked at us both and sobbed. It's one of my favorite pictures of that day - her pure emotion taking over while she stood by us. (All the really good pictures of all of my babies tend to be with Asheley - don't ask me why. Maybe when she has kids, I'll get the good pics.) My mom stayed with me in the hospital and during our visit, when my dad was there he would sit with Tyler, rocking for hours, holding his little hand. I would have to ask to get my baby back from him.
Matthew, though, he was as proud as a first time dad without actually being one. He and Tyler have always had a super special bond and I am sure that it began with supporting me during my unwed-mother-pregnancy and culminated in helping me through the birth. I always said he could put this on his dating resume - 'Been through childbirth like a pro'. I couldn't have done it without him. He was strong, calm, confident, funny, peaceful. He kept me sane when I needed it most.
And this weekend it was his turn. His baby. His love. Tara's labor was way different than mine and of course, the whole experience for him was certainly far and away more pronounced for him since it was his family that was the center of the drama. He was as even-keeled as ever, even when things were stressful. I used to worry that since he had been through a birth before that it might take something away from what should be his first time, but I don't think I needed to. It's different when it's your own baby. It's still the first time and all births are different. When he carried that baby out of the operating room and showed off his new daughter, I recognized the look on his face. I had seen it in the mirror a few times before. This was HIS daughter, HIS baby, HIS miracle.
I will always be grateful to my brother for stepping up for me and not being squeamish about it. I will always be thankful that he is the most awesome brother you could ever ask for and the best uncle in the world. He has his issues and I certainly get annoyed with him my fair share. But his tolerance is amazing. Both my sister and I have married 2 of his best friends and he hasn't killed us. My third son, Riley, is actually named Matthew Riley. It wasn't a stretch. Both Scotty and I love the name and the man.
Tyler was worried when we found out that Matthew was going to be a dad. He didn't think that Matthew would spend as much time with us or that he wouldn't care as much about him and his brothers. I have spent quite a bit of time reassuring him that Uncle Matthew will always be Uncle Matthew and will always love them more than he could ever know. Tyler kind of vaguely knows that Matthew was there for his birth, but it's one of those facts he readily forgets and doesn't keep track of. But someday, I will tell him in more detail about his birth. About the circumstances and the fears. Someday I will tell him how he has a piece of his uncle that his brothers will never have because he his uncle was there for his birth, for his miracle.
And now my brother is a DAD. Wow!
William Tyler Brawand Wilkinson. April 9, 2000, 11:48 am. 8 lbs 5 oz., 20 inches. Big hands and feet, Brawand family 'Swiss Mountain Climbing' toes, and momma's eyes.
God Bless!
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