Such was my state of mind 30 minutes before midnight as Natalia and I finally rushed off to the hospital. It was time. After nine months of anticipation, we were on the brink of expanding our family once more. The empty crib in the empty room on the second floor would soon be filled.
For me, anticipation does not walk hand in hand with preparedness. So when it became clear that it was time to leave the house, I panicked. I needed one more day to get ready. The question "What the hell am I getting myself into?" momentarily hijacked my mind, chased out by the unempowering realization that now was not the time to be asking this question.
I fumbled around to grab everything that we would need. Phone chargers, camera gear, extra clothes, laptop--bags were thrown into the back of the car. Phone, wallet, Natalia's purse. All check. A quick leap upstairs to give Celia and Andres pecks on the forehead, another look around to make sure I hadn't left anything essential, and a wave to Natalia's parents who would serve as the evening garrison at home. (I don't think my level of composure inspired much confidence.) Then I fell into the car with the person who should have been occupying all of my attention, my very pregnant wife, before driving off to Newton-Wellesley Hospital, three carseats in the back.
The previous two trips we had made to the hospital with unfilled carseats had been during the day. A night drive felt more urgent, more movie-like. Outside my window the moon was resplendent and unobscured by any clouds. Sagging, enormous, it was an ethereal vision for what was on my mind. I will always remember the way it looked.
Perhaps it distracted me too much. I parked the car and then ushered Natalia up to the main hospital entrance--only to find it closed (a very useful fact that I had once learned in our labor and delivery classes, 5.5 years ago). Well, that was unexpected. And not very convenient.
So we began a seemingly interminable walk around the hospital to the always-open Emergency entrance, pausing every 3 minutes to accomodate Natalia's oncoming contractions. Walk, pause, panic (me). Repeat. Repeat. My mind was running through contingency plans in case Natalia delivered that child right in that parking lot. (None of the plans was very good.)
But we did make it. The ER waiting area was sparsely populated, random visitors joined together at the bridge betwen Monday and Tuesday. A small group of students wearing Brandeis sweatshirts huddled together. Two women sat talking about a common friend, half-eyeing the TVs around the room. Aside from a woman laying underneath a giant white medical blanket, it was unclear who around the room was waiting for news about a friend and who was waiting to be admitted.
When we walked through the doors the reason for our visit was clear. Natalia attracted some looks, and I couldn't stop pacing as we waited to be seen. Contractions seemed to be coming faster now. The admitting nurse didn't share my sense of urgency and took her time with paperwork. Finally we were admitted and Natalia was wheeled through the halls, and an elevator ride later we were in the maternity ward.
Details from our time in labor and delivery are a matter of spousal privilege. But here's the timeline: admitted around midnight, into labor and delivery around 12:30, and then at 2:13 A.M. on October 23, Lucia Maya Granofsky was born.
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Life is a miracle. Another daughter! We were overjoyed. Celia would be so happy. And Andres too; another sister for him to dote on. I couldn't wait to hear their reactions in the morning. They had been looking forward to meeting their new sibling for so long.
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| Mama and daughter meet. |
We took some time to meet Lucia before making some celebratory phone calls. Lucia, Lucia, Lucia…smallest of the three, she had her brother's furrowed brow and her sister's serious mouth when crying. But when relaxed, she had the same serene look as her siblings. She was beautiful. Dark hair ringed her head but was sparse at the top, making her look like an old man--more a Saul or an Ernest than a Lucia. Natalia held her for a long while before the nurses took her, and soon she was tightly wrapped up in blankets and delivered back to us. Lucia. Lucia Maya, sister to Celia Micaela and Andres Hernan. Our family of four was now a family of five.
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We switched rooms around 3:00 and spent the rest of the night on a series of firsts: her first feeding, her first diaper change, her first burp, her first few hours with us. Dawn turned into morning. We settled back into a familiar routine: feed, burp, diaper, sleep, sometimes interrupting that cycle to deal with a perceived, rather than actual, need. Does this cry mean she is hungry? Maybe she needs a diaper change? Hmm that didn't work...maybe she's just tired. I was reminded that the process of soothing a crying baby is more process of elimination than scientific method. Time ticked by. Natalia slept, then I slept. I took some pictures.
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| Taking an early morning nap. |
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| Lucia gets her first bath. |
And that afternoon, the greatest moment yet--Celia and Andres arrive to see their new sister.
Giants compared to their new sister, Andres and Celia jockeyed for prime viewing position on the hospital bed while I wheeled Lucia's bassinette towards them. But once she was in place, they forgot all about each other (for a few moments) and focused on her, the tiny, sleeping baby who would soon join them at home; co-conspirator, a third playmate, another ally to support them in their pitched battle for What's Fair against two enemy parents. They were all smiles. They said her name a few times, and then gave her some new toys and a stuffed animal as gifts. Welcome to the family, Lucia.
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| An adoring brother meets his new sister. |
Soon they were serenading her. Celia began the concert by singing a long, made-up song about being a baby. Then she and Andres joined in a duet of ABC and Itsy Bitsy Spider. To her credit, Lucia did not cry through much of this.
I managed to get some pictures of the three siblings, and Natalia's mom even snapped one of the FIVE of us--a true family photo, and a rare treat. But eventually interest in their new sister began to wane, replaced by concerns about what show was on the room's TV and who was getting preferential seating next to Natalia. Each gave Lucia a farewell kiss before heading home.
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| Pure love. |
One more night until Lucia, Natalia, and I leave the hospital too. And then it's back to all the routines we used to follow with Andres and Celia: feed, burp, diaper, sleep. It will no doubt be tiring. But it will be fun too, as it will stir up memories of how the other two kids used to be during their first few months with us. All the beds will be full. We'll be home.
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