Iron Family

Physically grueling, Emotionally draining, Endurance testing   

…are three phrases to describe it.

Severe cramping, Difficulty breathing, Uncontrollable vomiting

…are three ailments caused by it.

What’s your pain tolerance?,  Where are your limits?,  How much do you want it?

…are three questions answered by it.

Unbelievably rewarding, Beyond miraculous, Life changing.

…are three feelings resulting from it.

I’ve written a lot about the Ironman Triathlon over the last 9 months and all the above could certainly be used to describe it…

But the “it” I’m referring to here has much greater meaning.  The “it” I’m proud to discuss was truly the most incredible moment of my life. 

“It” was the birth of my son this past weekend.

…And like an Ironman, “it” wasn’t easy.

September 15, 2012 7am:

Sue awoke with severe pain striking off and on in her lower abdomen.  Despite not knowing exactly what contractions feel like, it wasn’t a tough mystery to solve given she was 2 days past due. 

After a few contractions, I decided to start timing the intervals using an Android app on my phone (real men have pregnancy apps).  She was already between 3 and 4 minutes apart with each one lasting more than a minute. 

To prove I learned something from my 7 Sundays of childbirth classes, I’ll share with you a good rule of thumb for heading to the hospital called 411.  You’re looking for contractions that are less than 4 minutes apart, lasting for at least 1 minute, and continuing for at least 1 hour.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t retain anything else from the 18 hours of classroom time but I did remember that tidbit.

Anyway, I was definitely getting excited about everything but have to admit it didn’t really sink in at first.  In fact, I actually watched a few Epic Meal Time videos on YouTube in between contractions so evidently I wasn’t taking labor very seriously at this point.  

In the middle of me watching the creation of a 100,000 calorie meal, Sue ran into the bathroom and got sick.  Just to be clear, I wasn’t actually showing her the disgusting video when she puked so the record books will score this one to the pregnancy and not me being an ass. 

9:30am

My instincts told me that Sue projectile vomiting (and missing the toilet) while having continuous contractions at full term was further confirmation she was in labor.  I’m amazingly intuitive.

Plus, the vomit was exactly the attention grabber I needed for this all to set in.  If there was even 0.01% doubt left in my mind, it was now abundantly clear that today was the day. 

Sue toughed it out at home for a few hours but the pain seemed to be getting much worse quickly.  I’m no doctor, but was smart enough to call one and confirm what to do.  No surprise, but the doc was much calmer (is it calmer or more calm?) than me.  I’m guessing it was because she has fielded a similar call 932,000 times in her life and I’m just a rookie.  We chatted for a bit and decided it was time to roll. 

I threw our bags in the car, pulled Sue from the bathroom and off we went to the hospital.  I drove directly to the emergency room entrance at Duke where Sue hopped out and immediately got sick all over the sidewalk.  She either didn’t like my driving or this labor was moving full speed ahead.  Most likely both. 

She was immediately put in a wheelchair and brought up for her first examination.  She was about 5cm dilated and progressing quickly with the pain becoming excruciating.

“I didn’t know it was going to hurt this bad!” she kept saying…or screaming I should say.

Sue did not want an epidural and was determined to fight through it.  Each contraction kept coming stronger than the previous and she was getting very little in the way of breaks between each. 

I saw a friend of mine tear his Achilles tendon in business school but can’t remember seeing anyone else with a look of pain like this in their face.  I would have done anything to take some of her pain, but I was pretty useless aside from trying to massage her a little.

Minute after minute she was screaming, unable to move, and repeatedly getting sick in a little bucket.  She was absolutely miserable and I wasn’t sure how much more she could last. 

After hours of fighting, Sue asked for the epidural for the first time.  The problem was she told me not to let her get it no matter what pain she was in.  That’s a very delicate spot for a husband.  Do you listen to what your wife said before or listen to what your wife is saying currently?  I think this is known as a lose-lose situation. 

I did what I thought was the most rational thing…each time she requested it I kept saying “let’s just see if we can make it through one more contraction.”  We played that game over and over for about 30 minutes with it getting harder and harder for me to see her in this much pain.

Finally, it was obvious she couldn’t continue any longer so we moved forward with the epidural. The doctor thought she still had several more hours of laboring to go and I was worried she wasn’t going to get through the next few minutes.  Honestly, at that point, there really wasn’t much of a decision to be made.  Keep in mind this is before the real pushing even started!

The anesthesiologist came in and saw the pain she was in and ended up giving her first dose directly in her spine.  Literally seconds later, Sue was fine.  Talk about working wonders.  It was the first time I saw her smile and stop to realize what was actually happening.

The next few hours progressed well with Sue getting to 9 cm dilated and our nurse predicting the baby would be here before 4:30pm.  Unfortunately, 4:30 came and went and progress seemed to grind to a halt.  In fact, it actually started to reverse.  By about 7:30pm Sue was down to only 7cm dilated.  Apparently the baby’s head was bumping against the cervix and making it swell.  This made a previously difficult situation become impossible.  The physics of what needed to happen just wouldn’t work.

At about 8pm, after 13 hours of laboring, the doctor informed us that the only way this baby was coming out was Sue going under the knife.  Uggh.  This was the absolute last resort after we tried every conceivable position and option to get the baby to come out naturally.  In the end though, it wasn’t a tough decision.  We didn’t want to put the baby through any more stress and his heart rate was already showing signs of dropping quite low repeatedly which was worrisome.

I’ll skip the surgery details other than to say at one point I caught a glimpse of her body and it looked like she had been attacked by the Predator.  It’s also never a good sign when the official report contains phrases like “cord presented first with difficult extraction requiring vacuum,” “baby with no respiratory effort at delivery”, etc. 

I’m so glad I didn’t know about the complications at the time.  So scary.

9:18pm

Finally, at 9:18pm on Saturday, September 15 I got to meet my son!!

Do you remember my 11 naming principles from my post “Extra Credit:  A 36^th Achievement?”  Well, Sue and I found the name that sat perfectly at the intersection of all the principles:  Grant Michael Schmeiser. 

He’s just a little guy at 5 lbs, 14 ounces and I think 3 lbs of it may be his hair.  He honestly has more hair on day 1 of his life than I've ever had in 35 years.  Not sure whether to be happy or depressed about that!

Anyway, he also definitely came out focused on Schmeis35for35.  Here was one of the first pics of him only a few minutes old.  He was holding up 3 fingers clearly trying to communicate something to me about Triathlons. 

But which race was he talking about?

Maybe he was wishing me luck in my Half Ironman this Sunday.  He must know I will be making my 2^nd attempt to break 6 hours despite a ridiculously hilly course and getting absolutely no sleep this week from taking care of him. 

Then again, maybe Grant wasn’t talking about the half and was instead wishing me luck in my full Ironman on October 20.  After all, looking back on the day, the parallels between an Ironman and labor become obvious so maybe he recognized this.

Sue labored from 7am until 9:18pm on Saturday…14 hours and 18 minutes in total.  

On Saturday, October 20 I start my Ironman at 7am.  I guess I now know my time to beat.

Today:

I learned a lot last Saturday about Sue and Grant and couldn’t be more proud for our family.  Like an Ironman, not everything went as planned and some things were out of our control.  We kept fighting though and the outcome couldn’t have been more perfect.  I love them both very much.

As for the Ironman vs. labor comparison?

All year, I’ve been so anxious to say the 4 words that come with an incredible sense of satisfaction and pride:  “I am an Ironman.”

While I still want that honor next month, I now know I can already say a different set of 4 words that gives me infinitely more satisfaction and pride:  “I am a Dad.”

Schmeis