Here’s the next post in my attempt to recreate Finley’s birth blog. This was originally written on 3-2-2010, because, as I recall, Amy was about as insistent as a cold calling extended warranty salesman that we write it down before it drifted away into the gray haze of Long Term Storage.

Quick Take: It’s painful not to edit my old work (though I am guilty of adding a missing “I”). Calling my writing ‘crap’ doesn’t really cover it, since the words are too sterile to evict even that kind of reaction. Here I am, writing about what was, at that point, the second most traumatic day of my life, and I recall it with such boring remuneration that I could have as easily been taking minutes at a PTA meeting hosted by Ben Stein.

Though, in my defense, by the time I was actually clacking away at the laptop’s keyboard, I was likely so exhausted that even that small amount of movement was harder than dragging a hipster out of a thrift store.

On March 1st in the evening, Amy was in a lot of pain for basically the entire night. It was frustrating to watch her in so much pain, and yet still have to wait hours for the nurses to finally be able to bring something in. When she finally did receive all kinds of medicine, including the Mag, things calmed down slightly for a little while. I was exhausted and Amy’s parents’ told me to get some sleep while I could. I was, at that point, still planning to go to work early the next day to try to finish up a big project. I did get to sleep for a little while, but it certainly didn’t last long.

At a little after one I was woken up by her parents, who told me the Mag wasn’t working and she’d have to deliver. It took me a little while to understand what was going on and that it wasn’t actually a dream. I did finally get up and get dressed in the scrubs I had to wear to be in the operating room. When they came to move Amy out, I was as ready as I could be for the surgery.

They moved Amy into the OR and I had to sit out in the waiting room while they prepped her for surgery. During that time, several doctors and nurses came by to tell me what they were doing and what the current progress was. After a little while, Dr. Lindsay, the delivering doctor, explained that since the epidural wasn’t working, they would have to put her completely under and I’d have to wait right outside.

During the surgery, I continued to get some updates, but mostly things like “it’s going well,” and “just a little bit longer.” At some point, Dr. Horst, Finley’s future doctor, came out and explained what to expect once they cut our boy out. He went back in and I continued to wait.

Finally, after what felt like a really long time, Dr. Horst and several nurses came out with Finley in their hands. They told me to follow them. I did. As we walked down the various hallways, one nurse held Finley while the other held a ventilator and pumped it every few seconds to give him oxygen. He was so small and not moving at all. I was scared that he might not be okay, but the doctor and nurses did not seem to worried. They finally got him to the NICU and placed him in his little warming bed.

I stayed around for just a little bit as they began to hook up his cords and get him all set up. The cute tiny baby looked so small compared to the bed and diaper they had him in. I was amazed that there were even IV’s small enough to put into him.

They told me I should go check on Amy while they continued setting him up. I left and called my parents (I believe it was around 2:30 am their time when I called), and told Amy’s parents what happened. I then went back and helped Amy wake up from all the anesthesia. Amy wasn’t allowed to go back and see Finley for several hours, so we got all the rest we could.

The day turned out to be one of the longest in my life. We were only able to see Finley a few times, but of course we worried the whole time. Fortunately, he was in good hands and has done well in his little bed. We hope to have him home soon, but we know that he is in the best care possible where he is.