On Monday at 10:06 PM, Ian Douglas entered the world, though not in the usual way. His mother was induced at 8:30 AM that same day, and in 13 hours, had only progressed to five centimeters. She was, at that point, the textbook definition of arrested labor, so the decision was made to use a C-section.
We knew the kid would be big. We just had no idea HOW big. They pulled his head out (I was looking over the curtain) and it was huge! And it had a 5 cm ring imprinted on it, just behind his forehead. There was no way that monster noggin would fit through that opening.
He weighed 9 lb 14.3 oz, and was 21.5 inches in length. He has so much dark hair that he's ready for a haircut. He's looking a bit scruffy according to his conservative parents! I'm pretty sure he had a chinstrap and helmet on, and was yelling "Go Bucks!"
Mom is recuperating well. Ian has, unfortunately, spent three days in NICU. His blood sugar was low (common in big babies) and his breathing was fast (also common). His respiratory rate became normal quickly, but he wouldn't eat.
Then they started saying things like "Maybe he can go home with you Friday." HUH? The NICU is full of kids who are more dead than alive, and you this 10 pound monster needs to stick around longer than five days? The doctor wasn't communicating, and then a nurse roughed up my recuperating wife yesterday morning when she went in to feed Ian. I got pretty hacked off. I got our nurse to speak to the NICU nursing supervisor, and that at least got the Wicked Witch of the West out of our way.
And then a friend of our who's an ER doctor at Children's Hospital in Columbus called the NICU physician. It turns out that they want to see a stable blood sugar level without the 10% dextrose IV, but they wouldn't pull out the IV. Okay, I'm hacked again. Of course the kid doesn't eat. He's only two days old, a period when they don't eat much anyway, AND he's getting calories intravenously. It seems like their solution to "fix" this kid who's not really sick is to just leave him there until he fixes himself. That's not acceptable, especially at $2500/day, or whatever NICU costs.
So I assumed "command" of his feedings. Every three hours I wake up, march into the NICU, change the pooping machine's diaper, and then feed him. He hit his target of 55 ml of formula at midnight last night, and has consumed 55 ml every feeding thereafter. The trick is discipline (yes, discipline, even at 48 hours old). If we cuddle him, he gazes at us and stops eating -- or goes to sleep. So we hold him in a seated position, facing away from us. He has 30 minutes to do his job, which is only to eat. When I put the bottle in him mouth, his little arms fall to his sides and he relaxes. Then he eats. Sometimes it takes him 20 minutes; sometimes it requires 30 minutes. But he does it. And then he falls asleep in my arms. Mom's milk will come in shortly, and then feeding will become a more intimate affair all around. For now, it's all business.
He's no longer on the IV, and his blood sugar is stable at just over 60. In short, I'm taking mom AND my son home tomorrow. And I can hardly wait. I walk into his bedroom. Crib. Changing table. Books. Drawers full of clothes much too small for his huge baby body. All it needs is the boy.