It's Good to be Irish

No I did not have another baby. I just like to look back on St. Patrick's Day to remember how far we have come since the day Tiny was born.  I'm going to go back to Brady's birth and then I'll get to Shea's story.  Brady's birth was very easy and thanks to an epidural I didn't have any pain.  I delivered him in a hospital room. My husband was there a nurse and my doctor.  Once Brady was born they gave him to me to hold and after a short time the doctor and nurse were gone and they said take some time to get to know your son, then we will move you to the postpartum room.  So for a about a hour it was just Freddy, Brady and I. I couldn't believe the nurses had such trust in us! They just left us with a baby unsupervised. I couldn't believe it.  We made lots of phone calls and just cuddled with our newborn.  I got him breastfeeding and then it was time for me to get moved to my new room.  Once in our postpartum room Brady stayed with me just about the entire next two days.

A lot of people say that your second delivery is very similar to your first delivery.  Those people clearly haven't met a baby like Tiny Terror.  He was in no way going to allow his delivery to go as smoothly as Brady's.  First off I was very confused about my due date.  I was convinced I was further along than what my chart at the doctors said.  The first doctor I had seen didn't give me a due date.  Then the second visit the doctor (a new doctor because my old doctor left the practice) gave me a due date that I thought was about 4 weeks off (it was the date written in my chart).  But who knows it was early and my brain was spinning because Brady was only 8 or 9 months old at the time.  I figured by the next ultrasound we would have it all straightened out.

So I started having contractions ever 3 minutes. I went to the doctors and he check me out and said. Lets head over to the hospital and get things going. But then he checked my chart and saw that I was a day shy of 37 weeks. So he told me to go home and rest (since my water hadn't broken) and see if the contractions stopped.  I was in tear because I was convinced I wouldn't stand another day of being pregnant. I was so uncomfortable I had to deliver.  So the contractions didn't stop and I went to the hospital. 

The scenario was the same as Brady's birth. In the room was Freddy, one nurse and my doctor.  After a few pushes Tiny was born.  But he had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.  Once they untangled him he began to cry. But then he stopped.  He wasn't making a sound. Before I knew it there were alerts being called over the intercom system. It seemed like every single nurse in the entire hospital was in our room (clearly Tiny wanted to have a large audience at his birth).  They were doing everything to Tiny to get him to make a noise. They were inserting tubes in him. It was awful just awful.  We were clearly scared out of our minds. They put him in an isolate (the one with the lids) and wheeled him off to the NICU.  Then it was just my husband and I left alone in the room dumbfounded over what just happened. We didn't know anything and scared to death.

It seemed like forever but finally a doctor came and talked to us and told us that he was stable and we could see him in a few hours.  He had the umbilical around his neck and the fluid in his lungs was not able to be expelled during delivery, so they were suctioning out the gunk from his lungs and had him on a CPAP to help him breath.

So for about a week Tiny laid in his little isolate with IVs, tubes, machines and all other kinds of bells and whistles.  I wasn't able to hold him and it was awful.  When I first got to see him in the NICU the nurse looked at me with a panicked face. She had her finger in front of her mouth going "Shhhhhhh" don't wake him up!  She told me "he has a temper!"  She ended up being the most wonderful nurse I have ever met and I am so grateful for all the wonderful care she gave him and all the help she gave us along the way.

So there Tiny laid for days. He was very pissed off. When I would walk into the NICU there was no mistaking he was there.  Most of the babies in there were tiny and didn't cry very loud. But not 8 lb Tiny he looked like a beast in the NICU (hence one of the many reasons for the nickname Tiny).  When I finally got to hold him it was horrible to put him back down. He was so mad to be put back down.  And to this day every morning I wake up to find him in my bed.

Tiny's real name is Shea.  My husband is Irish and we gave both of our kids Irish names even though I am not Irish. I am Scottish though if that counts for anything.  So the day before St. Patrick's Day the nurses were able to finally take Tiny's hat off and wash his hair.  It was red!  When the doctor came to examine him he looked over his chart and said, "This little Irish boy named Shea with red hair just has to go home on St. Patrick's Day!"  We were overwhelmed with joy that we were going to get to take him home at last!

The video below is of the day we came home.  Our boys are 17 months apart. I enjoy looking back at the videos. It reminds me why I have been so exhausted the past few years.

This video sums up my life for about a year.

Tiny has had no side effects from his birth. Besides a million doctor visits the first few months of his life and tons of blood work. He is a healthy little boy recking havoc on our everyday lives.

Tiny starts school next week. He gets to spend three hours a day twice a day in the afternoon playing with kids his age, doing arts and crafts and learning how to be be a good little student.  Yesterday I asked him.

Me- "Tiny are you going to listen to your teacher?"

Tiny- "NO! My teacher is going to listen to me."

And that about sums up Tiny.