I'm not quite sure what I expected. I know I did not expect that within five minutes of meeting my little man, I'd have given up anything to save him. It's not something for which you can prepare.
It is an epochal shift in one's life. One that laughs at all but the most sublime experiences of my past. I'd heard parents joke about it. I remember one comedian saying, "You expect you might throw yourself in front of a bus for your child. What they don't tell you is that you'll grab your spouse and throw her in front of the bus, too." To experience the transition was far more definitive than anything I'd imagined.
Andrew emerged, not crying but sort of gurgling, and despite the best efforts of long tubes, turkey basters and various other implements of suction, he kept struggling. A certain urgency overtook the OR, and Mom kept repeating, "Why isn't he crying?" I have a picture of his birth weight. He's not in it. They were moving fast.
Generally life is a blur in hindsight. On this day, life was a blur in the present. Mom was still cut open with surgeons working all around, a separate team surrounded our little Bear. It was too much, after checking in with Mom and confirming he was our baby Andrew, I focused just on him as we quickly left the OR headed for NICU. I stayed focused on him until his breathing was normalized and the flurry of activity around him slowed.
A lot has happened since. Andrew is battling low blood sugars, while Mom is fighting high blood pressure. Unfortunately, that finds them separated by six floors, and their time together has been limited. Mom had only minutes with Andrew in his first twelve hours until grandma brokered an excursion downstairs around midnight. Today we found more time together and both Mom and my little bear are making solid progress.
Just this evening, Shelly was released from her IV's and moments ago Andrew has started being weaned off his IV. I feel very blessed. My beautiful wife just brought me the cutest little boy. I am so in love with them both.