Obie's Bees

Nicknames happen a lot, and we had a lot for Oberon.  We still think of some, and get a little sad we won't be able to call him by them.  The other day, Chris was being a little slow getting things out of the car, and Elizabeth almost said something like, "come on, slowpoke!" - but didn't, because she thought "come on, Slobie" and couldn't say it.

One term of endearment that we used a lot with Obie was "little bug."  After he passed away, we decided to keep with this theme, and focus it a little more.  Obie had a swaddle with bees on it, and that was enough for us.

Some time later, we got our wonderful yellow gift box, and it worked perfectly.  Yellow and bees, a perfect pair.  Ever since, we've been infesting our home with Obie's bees.  Just as a living child permeates every area of one's life, we welcome reminders of our child everywhere in ours.

We've been decorating the nursery (and many other things) with vinyl stickers made by one of Elizabeth's friends from high school.  It makes us happy to cover Obie's room with his bees.

Not surprisingly, we've started noticing Obie's bees everywhere.  From hikes to state park gift shops to sidewalk advertising, we always seem to find them.

People at work are starting to notice the bees and yellow in Elizabeth's cube.  She doesn't really say why, but she's pretty sure some of her coworkers have figured it out.

Some of Obie's bees sting, but we like it because children are sometimes stinkers like that.

Elizabeth's bee rings like to sting!

Obie's family and friends have jumped on the bandwagon too, and we just love it when they share Obie's bees with us.

Thank you for sharing Obie's bees with us.

Next time you hear a bee buzz, see a bee design, or even have some honey, we hope you think of our precious Obie and his bees.  Use #obiesbees on instagram to share with us (@il0veanne & @thomacx1).

Another way to share Obie's bees is to order your very own Obie's Bees team shirt.  Thanks to the wonderful Amy C* donating her time and mad design prowess, we have this fabulous logo ready to go!  All proceeds (should we get any) will go to Obie's favorite charities.  You can read more about them here.

Place an order for your shirt by clicking here by May 6.

*Amy C is a talented woman.  In addition to her bee-creation skills, she wrote a book!  Check it out.

Things We Never Thought We'd Know

What do you do when your child dies?

That's a question we never thought of, and never thought we'd know the answer to.  Emotionally, it's impossible to answer - and that isn't what this post is about.  What actually happens?  What do we have to do?  How long does it take?

Before we took Obie home from the hospital, we kept asking what we had to do when he passed.  Who do we call?  We didn't want to be staring off into space and having to google what to do.  For some reason, the social workers and hospice people seemed surprised by our questions.  This will never cease to be confusing.

In our case (and we suspect most cases), when someone dies under hospice care, the first call is to the hospice company.  They send a nurse out to confirm the death and start the paperwork.  Then, the nurse calls the funeral home.  It helps if a funeral home has already been selected, which thankfully we had done.  The social worker from the hospital had called the funeral home in advance so they knew our name and some of our information already.

From the time we called the hospice it was about an hour before the nurse was at our house.  The nurse was here about thirty minutes.  It took the funeral home person about an hour after he was called to come to our house, but he was only here about fifteen minutes.

Obie passed away at 12:50 a.m., but he didn't leave our house until almost 4 a.m.

The next day, the funeral home called us and made an appointment for us to come in, which we were able to do same-day.  In probably one of the most surreal experiences we'll ever have, we walked to the funeral home to fill out paperwork and make arrangements for cremation.  This also made clear the need to determine what to do with Obie's ashes.  We weren't completely sure at the time, but we knew we don't want to keep an urn indefinitely.  We wanted to lay his ashes to rest somewhere, but we hadn't decided where.

We also had to order copies of the death certificate from the county.  We thought it was up to us to take the death certificate to social security (turns out, the funeral home did it without telling us they would) and we weren't entirely sure what else we would need copies for.  We ended up ordering three copies of the death certificate, but we didn't know if that would be enough or too many.

We went to the social security office to report the death, but as mentioned, we didn't have to do this.  There was no way for us to know without going, and we don't know if it's a state requirement that the funeral director notifies or if it's the same everywhere.  That visit was also when we found out why Obie's social security card didn't have his full name on it.  Apparently the cap for middle names is 16 letters, so it reads OBERON CHRISTOPHER FIOR THOMA.  Unfortunate.

It was important to us that we had a copy of Obie's birth certificate.  We waited the suggested 8 weeks or so and then headed over to the Santa Clara County clerk's office to get an official copy.  This process was extremely simple and efficient.  The certificate has his full name and our names, and it's nice to have.

Oberon's official paperwork

Elizabeth still carries Obie's insurance card in her wallet, but we've also gotten notices from both our employer and the insurance company that his coverage is no longer valid.  We know it's just an unfortunate situation within the company processes (the same letters go out when dependents turn 26, when spouses separate, etc.), but it's still jarring to get mail addressed to Oberon telling him he's not qualified for insurance.

Another jarring thing was dealing with picking up Obie's ashes.  At first, the funeral home told us there was "no rush" to pick everything up.  A later communication mentioned no deadline, even after specifically asking.  Then, we got a tactless phone call that we had to come right away - apparently there is a 30-day limit for them to keep the remains.  Maybe don't wait until day 30 to call the grieving family?  Maybe be more tactful on the phone?  Maybe don't tell people you can use e-mail to communicate and then refuse to do so?  They called Chris in the morning on day 30 and Chris said we weren't ready to get them, yet.  He asked if we would call back over the weekend, and they begrudgingly said yes, but Monday was the limit.  (They still didn't actually mention the 30-day legal limit).  Later in the day, someone else called Chris again, but he couldn't answer while at work.  After Chris didn't pick up, they called Elizabeth at work. She said she couldn't talk about this now and to please e-mail her, and they started rambling about why they can't e-mail and yadda yadda... so she said, "I can't talk about this right now" and hung up.

After Elizabeth hung up on them, the manager called Chris again, and he angrily stepped outside to speak in private (still during the workday).  Clearly upset, Chris yelled at the manager about how unprofessional and inconsiderate they had been to a grieving family.  After a moderately believable apology and explanation, he finally got the real story and what needed to happen when.  Some of the people at funeral home were extremely considerate of our situation, some had the tact of temporary retail employees.  This was completely shocking to us.

In California, there are some of the strictest laws and permitting for where and how remains are kept or scattered.  At first, Obie's ashes were on file at our house in San Jose.  After a while, we knew we wanted to scatter Obie's ashes back to nature, and decided on scattering them in a Santa Clara County park.  We thought about taking them to Tahoe or Yosemite, but waiting for spring just seemed too long.  There are also services that will scatter ashes by plane or at sea by boat, but we decided it was better for us to do it ourselves.

After a fair amount of looking we decided on a park, and started looking into the process.  There is a little bit of information online, but not much, so Chris ended up contacting the Santa Clara County Parks department to ask how to get the required permit.  He was put in touch with the right person, and after getting a copy of the right form filled out, we received a special use permit for the chosen park for Chris and Elizabeth to scatter the ashes privately.  Again, the process was extremely easy and efficient, so props to Santa Clara County for apparently having their act together.

With the permit giving us permission to scatter the ashes in the county park, we then had to go back to the funeral home to have them get a new permit from the health department documenting where the remains were to be scattered.  Three trips to the funeral home later (in a turn of events that surprises no one, they don't have their act together), we received the correct permit from the health department, and could legally spread Obie's ashes how we wanted.  We plan on sharing the story of scattering Obie's ashes in a separate post.

While there were more logistics and permits to deal with than we would have thought, it is much less than required when an adult passes away.  If you don't have a will, we strongly suggest considering it.  Having to deal with accounts, power of attorney, and other issues in the midst of grieving would add another complication at the worst time.  Be good to your loved ones, and help take care of what you can.

Pause

"How are you?"

"Fine."
"OK"
"Alive."
"Getting by."
Silence.
"Barely able to function."
"Terrible."

It hasn't really gotten easier answering niceties.  Sometimes we want to talk, sometimes we don't.  Sometimes we only want to talk to each other, sometimes we want to talk to other people.  It's always awful.

We are alive.  We are functioning for the most part.  Going to work most days, eating most meals, and sleeping most nights.  Time is going by at a slow crawl.  It doesn't feel right to commit ourselves to new endeavors to fill up the time, so we try to pile up take-it-or-leave-it activities.  Watching T.V.  Working out.  Crocheting for Elizabeth.  Cooking for Chris.  Sometimes it feels good to make something, sometimes we can't do anything but sit.

Most people have dreams for the future.  We have dreams, but there's not a thing we can do right now to try to make them a reality.  We just have to wait.  For time to go by, for things to happen, for grief to change.

We're on pause.  We can't wait to get off pause, but there's nothing we can actively do to move things along.  People like to say when things are bad to move on or move forward, but we can't move towards anything yet.  This horrible pause brings more frustration, impatience, and sadness.  Sadness for losing Obie (always), sadness for ourselves, sadness that we aren't really living right now.  "Life is short."  No kidding.

 Hiking in Muir Woods, 2/28/2015

Motivational speeches and tropes just don't apply to us right now.  Elizabeth went to a conference recently, and most of the fluff was even more irritating than usual.  Being told to drop her perspective at the door was laughable, being told that fear was courage trying to get in was inane.  Making nice with pregnant strangers was next to impossible, and crying in the exhibitor's hall probably happened.  In general, people are nice and very worried when you shockingly start crying during small talk.  She's done it enough times now that it's not even embarrassing.

Someday, hopefully, this time will be a painful memory that we never revisit.  We love thinking of our Obie and will cherish those memories forever.  But now?  This empty time of acute grief, deafening silence, and aching hearts?  There's nothing we can do but try to get through it, and hope the pause is almost over.

Hiking in Castle Rock State Park, 2/22/2015

Thankful for Support

Everything is different now.  At our baby shower, guests wrote little notes and bits of advice on baby feet.  We found the box that kept these notes a few weeks after we lost Obie.  One said, "Things will be different, not necessarily better."  Tragic, but undeniably true.

The love and support we've been given from friends and family is very much appreciated.  It's a very unnatural emotional state for us.  The notes and gifts we've received make us smile, and knowing our son has touched others has real meaning.  Even so, no amount of love, support, gifts, or memories can make it better.  Just as a hug doesn't make you less hungry, none of this makes us miss Obie less.  That's not to say we want any of it to stop or that we're at all suggesting to leave the bereaved alone.  Quite the contrary.

We were surprised by gifts given to us to memorialize Obie.  Having physical things we can see and touch has been helpful.  These came from unexpected places and continue to bring us comfort.

• House divided blanket, made with love specifically for Obie
• Holiday ornaments with Obie's name, prints, or picture
• Hand and foot print ceramic ornament
• Necklace for Elizabeth, with Obie's initial and birthstone (she wears it every day)
• Another necklace, with a noble bear along with Obie's birthstone
• Picture frames, scrapbooking stuff, and albums
• Stepping stone to remember Obie
• Mickey Mouse ears, with Obie's name embroidered
• Stuffed "Obearon" bear
• Suncatcher made with Obie's birthstone colors and a bear

Things with Oberon's name make us smile, even when we are sad.  So much so, that we started a gallery for these!

Two gifts we received were things we would have never thought to do, and are so grateful someone did.

• Elizabeth's college dance team friends (Katie, Ashley, Bec, Sarah, and Tina) sent a frame with a very special matting.  The mat is decorated with words from Elizabeth's letter to Obie.  It took us a minute to realize that the words were so personal, and so specifically for Obie.  

• Our good friend Rachel sent us a gift basket filled with love (in the form of yellow things).  She wrote that she looked up Obie's birthstone and that it brings light into the lives of those who work with it.  We latched onto it and are now in love with all things yellow.  A yellow candle burns on our table when we're home, Elizabeth's nails have been yellow for weeks, and pieces of citrine were sent to Obie's grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins.

We also are thankful for those who provided us with food when we were in no shape to take care of ourselves.  It's still rough and we're not very frugal or as healthy, but we're appreciative for the help we got in the beginning.  Help from local friends dropping off food, Elizabeth's coworkers sending food, and far-away friends sending gift cards made our diets much better than they otherwise would have been.

As we've said before, donations make all of us smile.  The mail brings us a smile when we see a thank you letter from one of Obie's favorite charities - FNIH, NORD, NILMDTS, and JW House.  We're tracking the Obie donations we know of and hope to continue doing so.  So thank you, Rev. Sherry, Christina & Chris, Aunt Jan & Uncle Art, Angela, Erin & Nathan, Sherrie & Melissa, Rebecca & Jeremiah, Obie's Aunt Megan, Jenna, Aunt Sandy & Uncle Larry, Sarah & Mike, Beth, Matt, Janine, Rachele, Jared & Suzy, Julie & Greg, Liz & Bean, Nicole, Janice & Frank, Jenny & Tony, Anne & Brad, Joanna, Tina, Mary, Steve & Jeanne, Jessica & Dan, Myra & Jeff, Justin & Karen, Victoria, Ann & Matt, Katie, Obie's Grandma and Grandpa Fiorani, Lynda, Robyn & Mike, Marilyn, Cindi, Jessica, and Chris's colleagues.  And thank you to those donated in honor of Obie that we haven't been notified of.

We've said it before and we'll say it again: Donations make Obie smile!

We have wonderful people in our life.  We know that.  And until now, we've always felt unbelievably lucky.  Now we feel both lucky and cursed.  Thankful and furious.  Comforted and depressed.  It's complicated.

And as selfish as it is to say, we hope the love doesn't stop coming.  We need all the little smiles we can get right now.

NICU Superheroes

From the moment we knew the NICU was in our future, we knew we wanted to share the experience.  The thought of being in the NICU is overwhelming and scary.  We wanted to demystify it as much as we could, in case it helps someone down the line.

Takeaways

• You are the parent.  You know your baby the best, be confident in that.  You are the one constant among rotating nurses, doctors, specialists, and managers.  Take the best parts of each person who interacts with your baby and try to carry it over to the others.  
• Listen to anything the nurses say about ways they've calmed your baby.  They have a lot of experience and may have thought of something you haven't.
• Knowing ways to calm your baby (and speaking up about it) helps with new people - including new nurses or technicians who are running tests or procedures on your little one.
• Be nice.  Firm, but nice.
• Don't be afraid to call and check in.  You're not bothering anyone, and you deserve updates on your baby.
• If your nurses are chatty, talk to them.  The more they get to know you and your baby, the better.  If the nurses aren't chatty, still ask them any questions you have.  We always started with "how's he doing?" when we visited.  This got us up to speed on any recent issues, if he was eating/sleeping/pooping well, etc.  
• Always ask for what you want.  If you want to hold your baby - ask.  If you want to take care of your baby by changing diapers or taking temperature - ask.  Some nurses are more proactive than others asking what you might want.  It's up to you, and the worst that happens is the nurse advises against it and tells you why.  We didn't ask to hold Obie as much as we should have in the beginning.  We were worried it was too much trouble and was disturbing him too much.  We should have at least had the conversation more often.  

In the NICU with Obie on 11/26/2014

There were more people involved with Obie's care in the NICU than we could hope to remember.  A big team of doctors and nurses, nursing managers, receptionists, social workers, specialists, technicians, respiratory therapists(RTs), lactation consultants, geneticists, and plenty we've surely forgotten.  Some of these people made a real impression on us and we wanted to share a little bit about them.

Superstar Doctors

• Obie's most frequent dayshift doctor was Dr. H.  We were very lucky to have him as he was gentle and kind.  He was the one who requested the cranial ultrasound and subsequent MRI, and he was also the one to tell us about Obie's full diagnosis.  That was going to be a terrible moment no matter what, but Dr. H. was empathetic and also straightforward in what the diagnosis meant.  He was patient with our initial questions and our follow-up questions over the next few days.
• Dr. S. ended up being Elizabeth's favorite doctor.  She suggested Obie's field trip to the courtyard and made it happen.  She was also the doctor who extubated him.  She was very understanding with us on the timing of extubation and release from the NICU.  One of the nurses mentioned to us that Dr. S. was fantastic with end-of-life considerations, and that was very true.  She told us it was important to make memories with Oberon, and she was right.
• Dr. K. was probably the most straightforward on the team.  Sometimes too much, but sometimes it was what we needed to hear.  It was good to know there was someone who was giving us the facts and not sugarcoating or omitting the scary possibilities.
• Dr. A. was the only one we referred to by first name.  She seemed younger, and also had a hard to pronounce (or remember) last name.  She was very sweet and chatted with us at Obie's bedside on some of our late nights.  Dr. A also worked through Obie's discharge plan and paperwork.  She was extremely compassionate while going through the DNR paperwork, which was difficult, but necessary.  
• Dr. W. was Obie's first doctor.  She got him over to the NICU and ready for surgery.  She was very straightforward. 
• Dr. Craniofacial Surgeon (can't remember his name) came to talk to us once the Beckwith-Wiedemann diagnosis was pretty clear.  He talked to us about potential tongue-reduction surgery down the line and how he's done a lot of work with BWS kids.  He made us feel more comfortable with the BWS diagnosis knowing that there was an expert close by who had dedicated a good chunk of his career to kids like Obie.
• Dr. Su. was Obie's surgeon.  She explained everything and was also patient with us.  We had met her over the phone months ago, and she was just as nice then.  She stopped by to check on Obie multiple times after his omphalocele surgery, which went really well.  She also made him his cute little belly button.

Dr. Su. made a pretty cute belly button! 

Superstar Nurses

• Night Nurse R was one of our favorite NICU nurses.  She was part of the delivery team, so she met Obie on his birthday.  She also cared for him many other nights.  She was compassionate and helpful, and made sure Obie had the best of everything.  She fixed his respirator placement (along with an RT, of course), got us hand and foot prints, let our family visit with Obie (and have videochats), and cleaned him up for his photo shoot at the hospital.  She gave excellent care to Obie, and it was obvious that she cared a good deal about our little bug.
• The only labor and delivery nurse we really remember was Nurse A.  She was the one there for Obie's birth, and she made sure Elizabeth got a private room for recovery.  
• Nurse Jn was extremely nice, and also very competent.  We trusted her immediately.
• Lead Nurse J took a little warming up to.  At first, we weren't sure how to respond to her, but after a few days we grew to really appreciate her.  She was very protective of Obie and piped up whenever specialists were coming around. 
• Night Nurse J was actually one of Elizabeth's post-natal nurses too, but we didn't see her that much then (because we were in the NICU).  She made Obie's scrapbook page for his shelf in the NICU.  We saw that other babies had one, and were so excited the morning that Oberon's showed up.
• Nurse Jc was Obie Xmas nurse, and we are so thankful for her.  She was excellent with Obie, and made sure that we had everything we needed to feel comfortable bringing him home.
• Nurse K only had Obie for a couple days, but she made a real impression.  She helped us learn a little bit of baby massage, took Elizabeth around to various courtyards to scout a photo shoot location, and gave us some very poignant advice.
• Nurse Manager C. helped admit Obie to the NICU on his birthday.  While we didn't interact with her too much, she really looked out for Obie and for us, giving us the green light to stretch the rules about number of visitors and visiting Obie during shift changes so that we could spend more time with him.  She also worked out an issue with Obie's prescriptions when the pharmacy kept screwing them up, going so far as to pick them up for us so we didn't have to leave Obie again.

Oberon's scrapbook page, made by Night Nurse J.

Superstar Others

• Our social worker most of the time in the NICU was I.  She was very compassionate and helpful throughout our experience.  We met her before we knew the extent of Obie's problems, she was there when we found out, and we saw a lot of her as we prepared for Obie's discharge to hospice care.  Her job must be so tough, but she was gracious every time we talked to her - even when we were less than composed.  She let us use one of the private rooms when we told our immediate family what was going on with Obie, she found a funeral home that fit our needs and made the initial call while we were still in the hospital, and she gave us a lot of grief support information.  I don't want to think about how much worse the experience would have been if we didn't have her help.

As we said before, there was a huge team of wonderful people caring for Obie and supporting us and our families.  We are grateful for everything they did to help us through Obie's NICU stay.

Obie loves Tummy Time

There's an Obie smile under all those tubes and wires!

Race Car Driver Obie.

It Is Not OK

This post was written by Elizabeth.

I used to visit sadness, but now I live there.

I had that thought while lying in bed about three weeks after Obie passed away.  The more I think about it, the more true it seems.  I was always a softie with books and movies (that opening sequence of Up had me full on weeping).  I cry when I hear or read about others' personal tragedies.  Sometimes it seemed like I felt other people's pain more strongly than my own.  Now I know it's just that really sad things hadn't happened to me yet.

The feelings I had were real then, I really did get sad and have big cries.  And then I left it.  I could go all the way in and be wrapped in sadness, and then I could back out and shut the door.  Move on.

I can't do that anymore.  I live in the sadness room now.

I tried to think about all the happy moments.  I thought if I focused on them it would make the sadness melt away.  How could I be overcome with devastation when I had so many happy memories?  33 days plus 7.5 months of pregnancy is a lot of happy memories, and who am I to complain about that?  It was worth it, so I shouldn't be so sad.

How did 33 days start to seem like a long time?  I remember how it happened.  When they told us about Obie's omphalocele, I cried a lot.  I kept repeating that I just wanted him to be OK.  Then all the other testing came back and it seemed like things might be OK.  We were gonna make it to OK.

Then he was born early.  And stopped breathing.  A lot.  My bar was that he would be OK someday, even if he had to be in the NICU for months.

Then the MRI results came back.  He would never be OK.  I didn't consciously realize it, but we would never be OK either.  The bar moved.  The new bar was that he would make it home.  He did.  We made it!  I was really happy about making that bar.

Usually we meet one goal, and we set another.  I had to realize that our next goal was our last one for Obie.  Our goal was for him to pass comfortably, surrounded by love.  It's depressing and seems melodramatic, but it's my actual life.  I can't escape it.

Even being this broken, this devastated, and this depressed, I can function.  I can shower and go to work and even smile sometimes.  I can pretend things are fine (sort of).  People who don't know what happened probably just think I'm awkward or mean.  People who do know what happened try to be nice, but it ultimately gets awkward.  They can get away.  I can't.

I bring it with me everywhere I go, this cloud of sadness.  I'm scared to go to happy occasions to mark other people's life events, because I'm a strong believer that those events are about the people they're for.  The wedding is for the couple, and nothing should detract from their happiness.  The baby shower is for the parents, and nothing should tarnish that joy.  I'm scared my cloud of sadness will darken what should be pure and bright.  Even if I don't burst into tears, I'm still the childless mom.  I'm sad.  I feel sad and I represent sad things to other people.  I feel the need to express myself, but I get sheepish because I know no one wants to receive what I'm putting out.  I try not to post woeful updates, but I do post pictures of Obie every day on Instagram.  For some reason I feel like it's OK to do that on Instagram since people can unfollow me if it bothers them.  I won't care.  Facebook is more utilitarian, and I don't want to inundate people daily with my sob story.  Someday I'll run out of pictures to post.  What then?  Repeat?  Find something else to obsess about?  Retreat into online silence?  It would be so easy to isolate completely.

I was so ready to be a mom to a living child.  I was so ready to maintain my relationship with my husband, keep on keepin' on with no sleep, get back into an exercise routine, sing silly songs, video tape and document milestones, send pictures and gifts to family from the baby, do diaper laundry every day, figure out how to put the Boba wrap on by myself, rock the baby in my glider, encourage language development by responding when the baby made noises, video chat with far away friends, entertain visitors, take the baby to work to meet colleagues, go for walks in the park... I could go on for pages and pages without running out of things to say.

I was not ready for this.

It's both comforting and terrifying to know other people who've experienced child loss.  Family friends I never knew lost a baby, Facebook connections, friends-of-friends... It wasn't something I ever really thought about before.  Yes, it's rare, but it's not that rare.  Especially not to me.  I'm not alone, and there are people I can talk to - those I know and faceless people on internet pages.  But that's just it, the fact that I'm not alone means that this happens.  While it's not a high percentage, it's still a lot of people.  A lot of babies missing from families.  Some families I knew, but didn't know they weren't complete.  Is that how I'll be someday?  A lady that people don't know is missing a son?

So those are my choices.  Sadness cloud or omitting my son.  Forever.

Do I think people want to read this downer of a post?  No, but I think it's important that I communicate that it isn't all the positive things we try to emphasize and focus on.  I am not happy.  I am not OK.  I love my son, and when I think about him I can't help but smile.  Being able to smile and have some glimmer of a positive feeling does not make any of it OK.

There's no resolution, or neatly wrapped up conclusion.  I'm in the middle of it, and I expect it'll be that way for a while.

Oberon's Birth Story

This post is written by Elizabeth, because obviously.

I struggled for a while on whether I wanted to write this post.  Before we knew the extent of Oberon's problems, I couldn't wait to write about how he came into the world.  After... it didn't seem that important.  How could I celebrate his appearance when everyone knows the story ends so tragically?  It turns out, I want to celebrate everything about Obie all the time.  I get lost in pictures and videos, and Chris and I love imitating his little wiggles and facial expressions.  He is our son, and I want to celebrate him.  So, here is the story of how he came into our lives on the outside.

Proceed with caution - while this post doesn't get too graphic, it does inherently discuss bodily functions and personal things.  Can't say I didn't warn you.

November 23, 2014 was supposed to be my baby shower here in California.  I was excited to spend time with dear friends and thrilled to see what silly (and crafty) things Kelly, Meredith, and Christina had devised for the party.  For those of you who know me, you already know I was curious to see what people did with the theme (1920s).  I wanted to take more preggo pictures, especially with a big feather fascinator on my head and gloves on my arms.  I also had a surprise I was working on with Chris that would've been hilarious.

I woke up around 5 a.m., which wasn't at all unusual.  I was waking up between one and three times a night to pee at that point.  This time, it was a little different and I started wondering if I was getting some third trimester incontinence as I waddled to the bathroom.  Waddled very quickly since it felt like I was leaking (or had leaked) a little already.  I relieved myself, but the trickling didn't stop.  At this point I was still thinking that I just didn't have as much control as normal, so I put a pad on and was going to go back to sleep.  The pad was soaked by the time I washed my hands, so I went back over to the toilet and tried not to completely freak out.

I yelled to Chris that I was pretty sure my water broke.  I was afraid he wouldn't hear my because the fan was on and Chris is quite a heavy sleeper.  Luckily, he not only heard me but also got out of bed and into the bathroom quickly.  We called Kaiser and they told us to come in (of course).

Chris grabbed our semi-packed hospital bag, and I tried to find some clothes to wear to the hospital.  I was smart enough to have old towels in the car, but it wasn't that bad on the drive over.  Thankfully, no traffic on a Sunday morning at 5:30 a.m.  We had to go to the emergency entrance since it was so early.

I was one day shy of 34 weeks and not nearly as freaked out as I thought I would be.  I was only one week removed from labor and delivery class.  I kept telling Chris that I bet we were the least far along in that class, and probably the first ones to deliver.  They sat me on puppy pads since I was still leaking like crazy while they checked me out and confirmed the obvious.

Once I was officially admitted, they moved us to a delivery suite.  The nurses and delivery doctor told me they'd monitor for infection and try to keep the baby in another week.  They told me half of women go into labor within 24 hours of their water breaking, so half don't.  Of course, I could go into labor at any time.  I wasn't feeling any contractions, but the sensors strapped around my belly were picking some up.

They gave me an option of which arm for the IV.  I picked the right because it was on the side of the bed away from visitors, so it was easier for Chris to get close.  Seemed like a good plan until I went to the bathroom.  FYI - it is ridiculously difficult to use a restroom that has the TP and no extra room on the right side of the toilet when your right hand has an IV and is dragging a tree of tubes with you.  If they give you a choice... check the bathroom setup first.

I'd told the girls hosting the shower about the situation, and they came to visit (because they're awesome).  They were there for one of the most awkward moments.  One of the neonatologists walked in, announced himself as a baby doctor (complete with thick Russian accent), and asked us if we had any questions.  Um... no?  Oh wait, yes... why are you here?  Once the conversation got going, Dr. K told us about the common complications with preterm babies.  We were already prepared for immediate admission to the NICU for the omphalocele, so we weren't as freaked out with the early delivery.  I guess the way to say it is that our concern was already topped out, and we already knew how the NICU worked.

Banner that was supposed to be for the baby shower, but instead decorated the L&D suite.

The nurses told me I was on "bed rest with bathroom privileges", which meant I had to stay strapped into sensors on the bed, but I could remove them and walk to the bathroom on my own as needed.  Once things seemed relatively stable, Chris went home to get more stuff we needed (including things to occupy us since we weren't sure how long I would be laid up).  The girls kept me company.  They also got to see an ultrasound.  The doctor tried to estimate the baby's size from the ultrasound, and was laughably off.  She measured him at 4.5 pounds or so, and as you probably know Obie came in at over 6.  The whole time she was measuring she kept repeating how inaccurate it was and how she doesn't even normally do this (it's usually an ultrasound tech, I guess).  I was pretty sure he didn't go from the 90th percentile to the 27th in size in 3 weeks, so I never really trusted her 4.5 pounds thing.

At some point I was cleared to eat.  The girls got us food and left once Chris returned.  It was around this time that we decided on the baby's name, Oberon Christopher.  We had been trying it out for a few days, but didn't make a commitment until then.  Chris kept saying once we told people we couldn't change it, and I kept saying I was 90% sure and that was as good as it would get.  Later, Chris and I watched TV shows on the iPad and eventually wound down enough to get some sleep at around 11:30 p.m.  I thought I was in the clear for the time being.

I woke up an hour later to pee again.  When I got back in the bed I could not find a position where my low back didn't hurt really bad.  While I was flipping side to side, the nurse showed up and asked how I was feeling.  I told her my back was hurting and she said that made sense since I was in active labor.  It didn't feel anything like what I thought a contraction would feel like, it was only extreme low back pain.  The nurse said she was sure I'd have the baby before her shift ended at 7 a.m.  I woke Chris up at 12:45.

Things happened pretty quickly then.  The first time the nurse (or doctor, I can't remember now) checked me I was 4 cm dilated.  She also told me that the baby had great hair.  The next time I was 7.  They asked me if I wanted drugs or an epidural and I said yes, please to both.  The IV drugs were awesome.  Anything to take the edge off was awesome.  The epidural was even better.  The back pain was gone (and so was most of the feeling in my legs).  I was able to rest for a bit.  The nurses prepped me for the possibility of an emergency C section since Obie's heart rate had dipped a bit earlier on, and if it happened again they might operate.

They checked my dilation again and it was 9 cm.  A bunch of people were bustling around the far side of the suite and the doctor tried to introduce me to people.  I didn't have my glasses on and I told her everyone was a dark haired blob so it was kind of a waste of time.  Pretty soon after that they had me start pushing.  I wasn't looking at the clock at this point, but Chris insists I was only pushing for about 20 minutes.  I couldn't feel the contractions at all so they had to tell me when to push.  Apparently, I'm really good at pushing.  The doctor and the nurses said so during the process, and the NICU nurses brought it up again days later.  The doctor thought I'd have bruises on my legs from holding on so tight, but she was totally wrong.  That didn't happen at all.

Oberon was officially born at 4:55 a.m., so from start to finish the labor labor part was just over 4 hours.  I am thankful that Obie didn't try to make it longer than that.  He started crying almost immediately and was impressively loud, especially for a preemie.  Being stuck on the bed delivering the placenta, getting stitches, and having completely asleep legs anyway was very difficult.  Chris and a team of doctors and nurses were all huddled around Obie and an isolette.  I couldn't really see him, just lots of scrubs and a couple white coats.  After what seemed like an hour, they brought Obie over to me and I got to hold him for about 10 seconds before they whisked him away.

Obie, who may or may not be crying in this picture.

 Drive by hold.  There are no pictures without this gloved arm.

I kept telling myself I'd get to hold him for hours and hours later to keep from getting pissed. The room had gone from loud and crazy to nearly silent in the blink of an eye.  The doctor finished my stitches, and then it was just me and the nurse.  Chris (awesome husband that he is) had reached out to the girls to get someone to keep me company (thanks, Christina!).  With Chris and Obie out of reach, it didn't feel like I'd just had a baby.  It didn't feel like I had a son.  It was a very weird and surreal sensation.

It took almost an hour for Chris to come back.  He was so obviously in love with Obie and kept saying how amazing he was.  It was one of the sweetest moments of my life.

The nurse appeared and told me she was going to get me the last private room, so we moved pretty fast.  I was all set up in my new room by shift change (7 a.m.), just like she said.  The new room was much smaller than the delivery suite.  There was a dry erase board with care instructions and check boxes, but it was all crossed out and just had "NICU" written on it.  I was prepared for a non-typical delivery, but I wasn't prepared for the constant reminders that Obie was having a harder time than most babies.

I hadn't felt cold in months, but I felt cold in that room.  It was one of the first things that felt really different.

I wasn't allowed to go visit Obie until I peed.  I'm convinced that half of being pregnant and having a baby is just about pee.  If I didn't pee enough within a certain time frame they would put in a catheter, and then I REALLY couldn't go see Obie any time soon.  One of the nurses was all ready to do it when her trainee convinced her to give me another 30 minutes.  That was all it took and then I was able to get over to the NICU (in a painfully slow wheelchair).  

First visit with Obie, before his surgery.

The other thing I remember clearly is how ridiculous the pumping guidance I got was.  Every nurse had her own ideas around how I should pump, and so did every lactation consultant.  I got different answers from everyone for everything so I won't even bother sharing any of it here.  If your curious about how pumping went for me in the hospital and out, drop me a line I'm happy to share.

I can't remember all my pastpartum nurses, but there was one who drove me bananas.  I don't know whether it was my hormones or she really was that difficult, but she really rubbed me the wrong way.  She said things like, "he's doing good, right?" or "he's getting better, right?" and I wanted to punch her in the face.  This was only for the first couple days, so it was during the omphalocele surgery and waiting for him to poop.  And he was having apnea events and turning purple.  You'd think nurses would be better able to handle NICU moms, but it seemed like some of them had never dealt with one before.  Of course, this was the nurse who wheeled me out when I was discharged and waited with me while Chris got the car.  "You have family who lives nearby, right?"  So.  Awkward.

Physically, Obie's delivery wasn't terribly difficult.  I only had minor tearing, and I was walking up and down stairs within a couple days.  The biggest things, figurative and literally, were my abdomen and my feet.  My feet were gargantuan for a few days.  So much so I couldn't tighten my tennis shoe laces at all.

This is what Instgram is for, right?

It felt like there were pools of water under my foot skin.  Not painful, but not pleasant.

I knew I'd still be big, but I wasn't prepared for how different the bigness felt.  When I was pregnant, foldover pants and stretchy waistbands were just fine.  Not those first couple weeks post-delivery.  Instead of a solid belly, I had a squishy belly.  Any pressure from elastic pants was really bad for comfort and digestion.  I didn't have the right wardrobe for pumping and not having tight stuff on my belly.  My dresses didn't have easy access tops and my comfy pants weren't low enough (or were so low they dragged, so I couldn't wear them to the hospital).  Now I know why maternity sweatpants exist.

Cuddle train with maternity sweatpants.  I'm definitely not wearing them right now, no-siree-bob.

Now, some two months later, the things I notice most besides my belly are my ankles and fingers.  My ankles feel weak and slidy, and my finger joints are almost as sore as they were when I was pregnant.  I also realized I'm terrible at guessing how much I weigh.  I didn't think I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight, but I felt closer than I am.  I don't feel big anymore, at least not like I did before.  My legs feel really long.  I'm not sure why, but my leg bones seem comically long.  Maybe because I hadn't seen them in a while.

So there you have it.  How Obie was born, plus some random information on how my body changed.  As always, the best part of the story is that Obie was born, so here's one more picture of him from his birthday.