I am sitting in the rocker in Jean's recovery room. She is exhausted, and the chronic flow of nurses and other hospital personnel into the room keeps her from getting much sleep. Other than exhaustion, she seems to have few complaints. The pain medication is working so well that Jean has felt little pain since yesterday when the anesthesiologist gave her the epidural.

Jean began having painful contractions around 2 PM on Tuesday. By 6 PM the contractions were noticeably stronger, and Jean only managed one hour of sleep Tuesday night. I asked Jean at bedtime to wake me if she wasn't able to sleep, but other than an hour from 2 AM to 3 AM, she let me sleep.

Wednesday morning I awoke around six. Jean was off in another room and had been timing her contractions and noting their severity. I took over with the list and the stopwatch, and by nine o'clock when we called the doctor, contractions were six minutes apart. Kim (the nurse) said she would check with Jean's doctor, but we should call back at noon if we didn't hear from her. Just after ten she did call, and by ten thirty Jean and I were on our way to the doctor.

The doctor's waiting room was full, but we were shown to a room in less than six minutes (I know because Jean had no contractions in the waiting room). Once we were in the room, Jean's doctor came in and checked her: she was two to three centimeters dilated, and we were instructed to head over to Labor and Delivery.

As we walked out of the office building, across the street and into the main hospital, both of us expressed our disbelief that it was actually happening. Jean had a contraction as we were walking over, and we stopped as she stooped over a white metal handrail, breathing through the pain.

We were escorted to Labor and Delivery room 3. After more than an hour of check-in and questions, the anesthesiologist came in and administered the epidural. Ten to fifteen minutes later, Jean could no longer feel her contractions. Our doctor (who we did not see until 6 PM) ordered a pitocin drip to help Jean's contractions along. I watched the IV pump throughout the afternoon as the dose was increased from 15 to 30 to 45 to 60 to 75 CCs an hour.

Jean managed to doze off and on throughout the afternoon. At three she was four centimeters dilated; at five she was nine centimeters. There was about an hour of technical preparations, and at six twenty Jean was instructed to begin pushing.

I held her left leg for each push, and there were three pushes for every contraction. The baby managed at some point since last Thursday to rotate 180 degrees, so Jean's epidural was now saving her the pains of back labor. Several times the nurses, and eventually Jean's doctor, attempted without success to rotate the baby to facilitate birth.

It was during one of these attempts that we asked whether or not Bumpy had any hair. Jean and I were convinced that we had a bald baby but Julia (our nurse) told us the baby has hair.

Shortly we were able to see that for ourselves. After Jean pushed through four or five more contractions, I began to see the baby's head, which was covered with dark hair. Jean continued pushing but her doctor told us that the baby's presentation meant that Jean might push for another hour and still not have the baby. While Jean was in no pain, she was not enthused with the prospect of another hour or more of pushing. So she agreed with her doctor that forceps could be used to assist Bumpy.

In less than five minutes, with the assistance of forceps, the baby crowned. Big baby. The doctor told Jean to stop pushing, and slowly the head was born. The doctor told us to watch as her shoulders would come next, when suddenly an arm popped out. The other shoulder followed, and finally the rest of my daughter was born.

Colette Tolan Creamer, named for my younger sister, made her entrance to this world at 7:10 PM Eastern time on Wednesday, February 10. I cut the umbilical cord, which was kind of a purple and white looking spiral phone cord. I stayed with Jean while the hospital staff quickly assessed our little girl. Nine on the one-minute APGAR, nine on the five minute APGAR. She fussed at the nurses as they fussed with her. Once Jean seemed stable I went to look at my daughter.

The nurses were just finishing their inspections. Julia swaddled Colette and handed her to me. As soon as I began talking Colette stopped crying. Just as when she was in the womb, my voice calmed her. I took her to a rocker, where I sat while I chatted away. The nurses had just dropped the eye gel in her eyes, but she strained to open them to look at me.

While I began to discuss life, the universe and everything to my newfound audience, Jean was going through the final stages of birth. I managed to get a peek at the amniotic sac, but did not see the placenta (fine by me). After some additional clean up, the doctor and nurses left the three of us alone in the room for an hour.

I won't bore you with how cute she is. I plan to get some scanned photos on-line by Monday, so you'll be able to see for yourself. Until then, just accept the fact that we got the best baby.

After an hour in the dimmed Labor & Delivery room, the nurse came to take Colette upstairs for her first official tests. Jean was doing fine, and we agreed that I would go with my daughter. As we left the secure area with Colette in an incubator, we ran into a pre-natal hospital tour of about twenty people. Last September Jean and I had encountered a baby on its way to the nursery while we toured the hospital.

Once Colette was in the nursery they began checking her out. Five minutes later, the nurse who escorted us upstairs came out to tell me that my daughter weighed nine pounds, seven and a half ounces. BIG baby!


I'll catch up with more later. These first few days are disjointed and are moving quickly.