Oliver turned 5 today which his a fairly remarkable achievement considering his life so far. Five years and a day ago, Wendy had been hospitalized a couple of weeks after struggling with pre-eclampsia for most of the pregnancy. The hospital trip was a roller coaster as every day her condition was changing. She went from being in the hospital to being in intensive care to being on the verge of being let out and sent home. I had every expectation of bringing her home the next day.
Instead at 5:00 a.m., I got a tearful phone call from her saying that they were going to do an emergency c-section and I needed to get to the hospital right away. The nurse told me that I had a little time so I grabbed a quick shower and raced through the city to Royal University Hospital where the parking lot was closed. I parked at metered parking with this kind of funny realization that I bet Oliver was going to be born at the time I needed to plug the meter again.
As I went up to the room, there was chaos in Wendy’s room with doctors and nurses in an out taking her vital signs. A doctor grabbed me and said that Wendy was in better shape than another mother and child and they didn’t think they would survive if Wendy went first. It wasn’t as if I had any say in it but I kind of said, “yeah, no problem”. Sadly their child didn’t make it.
I sat with Wendy, called Lee, and just waited. Wendy was unconscious for most of it and had no idea how serious her condition was. A doctor came in and told me how bad it was for Wendy and said, “there is a good chance she is going to have a heart attack or stroke during the caesarean”. There wasn’t much for me to say. He asked what I did for a living and I told him. He looked relieved and said, “I don’t think you will freak out in there but if you do, I am going to toss you out of the delivery room.” I replied, “I seem to the only one who isn’t losing it this morning. I’ll be fine”. At this time it was 6:00 a.m. and I offered to do a coffee run for the nurses that had spent the night with Wendy.
The Starbucks was packed and my heart kind of stopped when a nurse came running up to me but she just had some money and was going to help me with the coffees.
We sat for hours as I just kind of sat there and held Wendy’s hand. Her vital signs were getting worse and her blood pressure was getting higher. Finally another doctor came in and was yelling at someone else that “this baby should have been taken days ago and the mother is going to die.” I remember thinking, “Really? This is what medicare cuts have gotten us. Doctor’s who don’t even realize they are in the room with the father.” As they left, the nurse came over and said, “Fucking idiots”, told me to ignore them and then realized that it was going to be impossible. She was mad at them for having that conversation in front of me and offered me another coffee. I took her up on her offer.
Finally Wendy and I were taken into the delivery room. A resuscitation team was there as was a team to take Oliver to the NICU. Everyone was just looking at me like, “What the heck is the father doing here” and the doctor would just say, “He works at the Salvation Army, he’s cool” and that seemed to satisfy people.
The caesarean section was over quick and more than Oliver, everyone was looking at Wendy’s vital signs. The radio was playing the song that was on when Oliver came out was YMCA by the Village People. There was a massive screen up between Wendy and I and the baby. As Oliver came out, a nurse and doctor raced over the other side of the screen and kind of yelled, “The baby is fine!” while everyone was looking at Wendy’s blood pressure. As the tensions left the room, one of the doctors came up to me and said, “I’d be okay with my kid being born to the YMCA. If it was a Bette Middler tune, his life may have been meaningless”.
Wendy was taken to the recovery room while I wandered out. I don’t know how but Lee and Mark were in the waiting room and they poked their head into the recovery room and said hi to Wendy who was too tired to know what was going on. Wendy’s blood pressure hit dangerous levels off and on for the next week.
As I left with Mark to go to Alexander’s for lunch, of course I got a parking ticket. I wanted to fight it on the basis that I had no other options but I just paid it.
I was able to go up and see Oliver the next day in NICU. Mark was too young to see him but they made several exceptions for him and Lee. Because Wendy was too weak to walk, she wasn’t able to see him for the first week which went over poorly. A combination of fatigue and the medication had her believing that this was a conspiracy but we got over that.
Oliver spent 23 days at RUH and we finally took him home on July 2, 2008. Before we got home, we actually took him to the Salvation Army Community Services and then to Reimers so it was a late day before he experienced his new home.
Despite the stress of his entry into this world, there was one more obstacle and that was Maggi. Maggi is like a bull in the China shop and I was nervous that a dog that physically assertive would not do well with a child who was two months premature. We took him home, set him down in his car chair and a very gentle Maggi slowly approached Oliver and gave him a gentle lick. It wasn’t until he walking and the height of a wagging tail that her protectiveness and gentleness diminished.
So now he is five. Time flies when you repress some of those memories.
Today he woke up and excitedly opened his presents:
- Spiderman water bottle
- Kick scooter
- Green Army men
- An NFL football (from Mark of course)
- Ninjago book (his two favourite things, Ninjas and Lego)
- Some new shirts
- An Angry Bird hat
He is off at A.H. Browne Park with Mark on his new kick scooter wearing a brand new shirt. He is off to take over the world.