Life V. 2.0

It really did happen: On Friday, June 12, almost a month early, our sweet little boy, Arlo Matthijs Vandermeer Rader joined the ranks of planet Earth. 

Today is Thursday the 18th, the first full day we've had him home, and now that he's asleep and I'm well caffeinated, I thought it was time to catch everybody (hi friends and family!) up on what's been going on. (Thanks for all your wonderful notes, by the way. You are sweet and funny people, but you knew that already.) 

So. A week ago Maggie went in to get her cervical stitch removed. During the pre-procedure ultrasound they noticed Arlo's heart rate was unusually high, so instead of heading home to wait out the next three weeks, Maggie went to Prentice Women's hospital where they could monitor things better. I got the call, and my work buddy Nate drove me to the hospital, but not before we stopped at a Walgreen's to pick up important labor supplies. (Picture two men standing in line holding a bag of Combos, a tube of massage lotion, a can of tennis balls, and a big jug of Gatorade. No one asked.)

That night, the doctors told us they were going to keep monitoring Arlo's heart rate--if it continued to be worrisome they might have to induce; if not, we might go home. We slept, I brushed up on my birthing partner book, Maggie enjoyed some delicious ice chips, we woke up, and by late morning Wednesday they decided to induce. Maggie toughed out the unbelievable pain for an hour and a half before the drugs arrived on a jewelled platter. Fifteen minutes later, feeling much much much better, she fell asleep.

Then, around 2:40, our most excellent doctor, Erin King, came in to say we needed to do a C-section, stat. Just in the past ten minutes the readouts had gotten worse. Doctors, nurses, anesthesiologists rushed in in their blue surgery suits, wheeled Maggie out, and a nurse and I scrambled to get everything into duffel bags and out of the room.

Shortly after, we were in the operating room, Maggie on her back, feeling nothing from the neck down, a blue tarp divider b/w us and the doctors, the two of us talking to keep from thinking about what was happening behind the divider, and then, at 2:51pm, with a most welcome and awesome cry, Arlo announced that he was born. Amazing, amazing, amazing. 

After she was stitched up, Maggie was wheeled into a holding room, where she and I watched a MASH rerun on TV until the laughing hurt too much. After showing a puffy, beautiful Arlo to us for a few seconds, they'd whisked him away for tests, and after an hour of waiting, the head pediatric cardiologist came in to tell us that Arlo was still experiencing his heart arrhythmia and that he'd likely have to be shuttled to Children's Memorial for further testing and procedures. Not what you want to hear, but we did realize we were fortunate the ultrasound had caught wind of this irregularity earlier rather than later. Before they took Arlo away, the paramedics wheeled him up to our room so Maggie could see him and touch his hand through the little door in the "incubator." Not a hug, but something, at least. 

I rode along with the paramedics in the back as they drove the 15 minutes to Children's, strapped into a seatbelt strangely similar to the seatbelt in children's car seats--two straps latched in the middle, one strap between the legs. Then the whooping siren, too many potholes, idle chat about Arlo's name, Arlo opening his eyes, me holding his hand. Upon arriving, a ride up the elevator, a nurse saying to wait for a call from the NICU. A taxi ride back to Prentice.

The next day, two cardiologists stopped by to fill us in. The problem with Arlo's heart was electrical--in the top chamber his heart rate was very high (300 BPM); in the bottom chamber it was half that. This was causing the irregular, too-fast pattern. If the pattern continued for too long it could do damage to the heart, so they wanted to get started immediately. They would try whatever they had to. I could come and hold him beforehand. And then while they tried some things I would wait in the waiting room, as Maggie waited in our hospital room with our friend Alexis.

They tried medication first and that didn't work. Then they tried a procedure that involved dropping a line with a electronic charge down his throat so that it rested in the esophagus close to the heart. That didn't work either. And so our cardiologist said that they felt they should now try to shock his heart directly. There was the possibility of the heart stopping, and the need for reviving him, but this was the best approach possible. I called Maggie. We agreed this had to be done. And then, the waiting room. A White Sox game on TV. A little girl stomping in and out of the room with her little purse. The sound of names on the Intercom. The stillness outside. And then, around 5, the doctor came in, smiling, to say the shock had worked. If the rhythm lasted more than 5 minutes, that meant it had been "reset," so to speak, and they'd waited a good half hour. I called Maggie and we cried, and she tried not to cry so hard because it all still hurt. And then they let me hold Arlo.

Minutes later, I was in our car, pulling out of the parking lot, doped up on happiness, and what song, improbably and perfectly, is playing on 104.3 when I turn it on? Kickstart My Heart, by Motley Crue. Seriously. Too much.

Anyway...since Saturday, Maggie and I have been sleeping at home, then driving in to the hospital to be with Arlo in our cramped little corner of room 817 until the end of the day. Grandma, Grandpa, Oma, Opa, Uncle Andy and Aunt Julia stopped by, and Arlo commenced being a baby, entertaining all comers with a wide assortment of eyebrow raises, lip smacks, arm thrusts, bicycle kicks, feeble burps, hearty bowel movements, pseudo-smiles and impossibly sweet looks of baby-peace. Our TV has been turned on the Arlo channel 24/7 and you know what? It's a really good show. 

In a way, it was nice to have the help of the excellent NICU staff, and the craziness of feeding through the night postponed a little, but all we wanted was to bring him home. Finally, yesterday at 4pm, we did. 

He fed 4 times during the night, launched a Vegas-worthy fountain-arc of pee all over his own face this morning at the doctor's office and seemed to like the shampooing his hair got this afternoon. Life is good. So glad he's here. Much more to come....