On Thursday, March 20th, I became a father--a week ahead of schedule.
For those with whom I have been out of touch (by last count, approximately everyone): In late July, after a challenging journey to conception, Sara and I finally became pregnant with two baby girls. It was now official: we were going to be parents. Books were purchased, classes were taken, gift registries were created, our guest bedroom began its yet-to-be-completed conversion to a nursery, and eventually, a planned C-section was scheduled for March 27th.
The pregnancy seemed to be going unusually well, until about two weeks before the delivery date. Sara began to show mild symptoms of preeclampsia, but her blood pressure (the important symptom) was fine, so we were not terribly concerned. On March 20th (a week before delivery), she reported to her doctor for a routine visit. Although her blood pressure was still fine, her doctor was concerned about her other symptoms. The delivery was rescheduled for March 25th, and Sara was admitted to the hospital so that her symptoms could be monitored over the next 24 hours. If they got no worse, then she would be released, and we would merely have our children two days early.
Alas, it was not to be. Before leaving work that afternoon, I received news of an unexpected development: Sara's blood pressure was on the rise. I was to be kept posted. I hadn't been home from work for more than ten minutes when I got a call from her mom: blood pressure was dangerously high, delivery had been rescheduled for that evening, and I should make haste in getting myself to the hospital. I hurriedly packed overnight bags for both of us and drove to the hospital in silence, preparing myself for what I was about to experience. We were not ready--so much was still not done!--but it was happening, and I had to be up to it.
Upon arrival at the hospital, Sara and I were whisked off to the operating room for the now-emergency C-section, which went surprisingly quickly. Within an hour, I was holding one of my brand new baby girls. I know people ask about these things, so here are the birth facts:
| Baby | Name | Time | Weight | Length |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| A | Cate Elizabeth | 7:16 PM | 5 lbs, 7 oz | 18 3/4 inches |
| B | Emma Celeste | 7:17 PM | 5 lbs, 4 oz | 19 inches |
Now that I'm a father, I feel like I should have something profound to say about the experience--and maybe I will someday. For now, I'm just getting used to the feed-sleep-diaper cycle that continues around the clock, and doing my best to put into practice everything I've read and been taught in our classes. One new thing I've learned already: Daddy, no matter how hard he tries, is simply not Mommy, and therefore cannot expect the child to react the same way. Sometimes they just need Mommy.
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| Emma and Cate Bourdier (respectively) |
I liken my entry into fatherhood to swimming in open water for the first time. It can be intimidating--especially for someone (like myself) who is not a great swimmer to begin with--and a number of questions arise: "That water looks deep. Will I be able to stay afloat and swim, or will I sink?" "The water is supposed to be cold. Will I just be freezing and miserable the whole time?" And in fact, parenthood can be a little jarring at first, and it does take some effort to stay afloat. But just like the water, you get used to it quickly, and it's not nearly as hard to stay afloat and swim as you thought it would be.
And so I swim. I change diapers. I assist with feeding as needed. I dress, hold, swaddle, comfort, and build up a tolerance for the screams of my sometimes inconsolable babies. I lie down in bed and barely drift off to sleep before being awakened by yet another cry, and then I get myself up and do it all over again. It is not always fun or easy, but everyone tells me it's worth it.
And for me, so far, it is.
