You turned 27 months old on Saturday and to celebrate, your Mom and I took an Infant, Child and Adult CPR class. This months letter will be different from the others. Rather than recap your trials and tribulations from the previous month, I'd like to tell you about the beginning; your entrance into this world.
As I was sitting there in the CPR class, our instructor was telling the group that chances of a person surviving a heart attack, stroke or drowning on CPR alone are slim. As we were learning the realistic truth, all I could do is think of how I never want to be in a position where I would need to administer 2 breaths, 30 chest compressions for 5 cycles on you. Your life and existence in my eyes are precious, and I want you to know how you didn't come into this world kicking and screaming like other kids. Rather, you came into this world with the heart and fight of a true champ.
February 13, 2006 | Personal Journal
A month before your Mom was scheduled to give birth to you, her doctor put her on bed rest because of unexplained high blood pressure and ketones in her urine. The doctor also had her start to go to the hospital twice a week for fetal and blood pressure monitoring.
Things were going well up until Thursday, February 2nd. She went to her 10:30 AM appointment (which I missed because I had to wait for the darn phone company to check our DSL connection....again). At the appointment her blood pressure looked normal and the stress test looked good. Your mom was about to leave when the nurse decided she would do an ultrasound since she was now so close to your due date. The results showed that her amniotic fluid was extremely below average and they told her she needed to go down the hall to Labor and Devliery immediately. Your Mom told the nurse that she had to go home and pick me up. The nurse told her that she was not supposed to leave the hospital and the Head Nurse was waiting for her in L & D. She just smiled at the nurse and said okay. She figured since she wasn't going to be escorted to Labor and Delivery what was the point in arguing and she would just walk toward L & D, hanging a right at the elevator and making a beeline for home. (Your mother has always been very stubborn.) On her way home, she called me to fill me in on the situtation and that she was coming to gather her bags and if I wanted to come along I was more than welcome.
The situation wasn't exactly what I had imagined. The few minutes I had to gather your her bags (before she arrived) and actually get myself mentally prepared, I was overcome with the thought that I was going to be a Father soon. Holy Crap! All that went through my mind was, "Am I really ready to be a Father?" I would even answer my own question with, "It's too late to turn back idiot. Shut up and MAN-UP!"
When we arrived at the hospital we checked in and they set us up in a room. A doctor came in and told us that because your Mom's amniotic fluid was so low, it could cause some complications and that’s why she needed to go to Labor and Delivery ASAP. The doctor then told us that they needed to induce labor if she wanted to do "natural" birth. Soon after the doctor started the process we made calls to our families (your Lola and Lolo were in the Philippines) to let them know that we were at the hospital and that your Mom was doing fine and I hadn't passed out from my uncertainty of becoming a good father.
To make a long story short, your Mom went through 15 hours of labor, back labor to be exact (pain and all); 3 of which she was pushing. Our doctor finally told us that your head was too big for your Mom's narrow pelvis. Plus, you were what they call “sunny side up" (baby's face is pointed towards the belly, rather than facing Moms back), thus the reason for back labor. The doctor gave us two options: 1) suction birth with the posibility of death and mother later having complications, or 2) C-Section, a more common and less medieval birthing method. Hmm, sounds like a no-brainer, huh? We were fortunate and thankful that your Grandma had arrived and was right there by our side when we needed some motherly advice.
So, with the decision made, your Mom, Myself and your Grandma scrubbed up and got ready for the
C-Section. Believe me, that was the scariest moment of my life. And I've been held at gun-point before, where my friends and I were being told we were going to die. Nope, that wasn't as scary as my wife going under the knife, with her safety and my unborn child's safety completely out of my control.
Off to the operating room we went. They put up a drape barrier between the top and bottom half of your Mom's body. Your Grandma and I were on the top half talking to your Mom while the doctors were behind the barrier doing their magic. The doctor asked me if I wanted to peek over and see my son as he pulled you from your Mom. Strange as it may seem, I was all for it and he even let me take pictures. I know, it may sound gross, but I gotta tell you, seeing your head sticking out from your Mom's stomach and also seeing her organs resting neatly to the side of her body was the closest experience I'll ever have to delivering a baby myself.
They pulled you out and rushed you to a table where they were going to perform the typical tests. Something was very wrong. The nurses then rushed you out of the operating room and into the hallway. I was in a bind. My wife's body was turned inside-out in one room and our newborn was rushed out of the operating room. This was the first time in my life that I felt completely helpless. Thankfully, your Grandma was there to look after your Mom and I rushed out to be with you. You were placed under a heating lamp. You were unable to breathe on your own and you were fairly unresponsive. The test that nurses/doctors give babies is called APGAR. I don’t remember what it stands for, but the highest score is a 9. Let's just say, you only scored a 1 (that was for at least having a heartbeat). So after 5 minutes of the nurses doing what they could do (and totally ignoring my 132 questions) you started showing signs of breathing on your own and your skin color and reflexes started to come around. Apparently, you had gone through some serious stress while your Mom courageously pushed during labor, and that was one of the big reasons why they wanted to go with a C-Section. So, after a 10, maybe 15 minutes; minutes that felt like a lifetime, the nurse turned to me and asked me if I wanted to hold my son. I looked her dead in the eye and said "more than life, and I'm not giving him back." I could see her smiling under her mask. At 5:25 PM, they rang the little tune anouncing to the entire hospital that a nameless baby boy (soon to be called Koen Joseph Pilapil) had arrived.
"Hi, it's Daddy. I don't know your name yet, but we'll come up with something good. You gave me a good scare. Can you believe it, I'm your Father." I chuckled to myself and thought, "Luke, I am your Father." After a quick Star Wars geek moment, the nurse told me that she wanted to take you to see your Mom in the recovery room. I told her, "Not a problem, as long as I am right there with him. I AM NOT LETTING HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT." So off we went to find your Mom. When we arrived at the recovery room, your Mom couldn't hold back her tears as they placed you on her chest and she gave you the most gentle kiss on your alien-like head. Man, your head looked like a peanut with vines speratically reaching from one side to the other.
You and your Mom were supposed to be in the recovery room bonding, while I was in the waiting room with your Aunties, shoveling a burger down my throat. Just when I thought it was over... along came your Grandpa who grabbed me and told me to go see the nurse in the recovery room. You had to be rushed to the Intensive Care Unit because your blood sugar level was below borderline. The stress from the pushing and C-Section had taken a toll on you and caused dehydration. The doctors said that if you didn’t improve in 30 minutes, they would have to keep you over night in the ICU. Not if I had anything to do about it. I ran down to the ICU, held your hand and personally fed you fluids. 30 minutes of fluid had finally proven to the doctors that you were well enough to stay your first night in this huge world with your frantic father and car wrecked mother. Holy Crap, we were parents!
And...just when we thought it was all over.... That night, while you were sleeping, your Mom and I watched you and mumbled broken phrases like, "He okay?" "Me tired." "Sleep good." ...ALL OF A SUDDEN, YOU WEREN'T BREATHING!... I rushed out to the nurses station and calmly told them that my baby wasn’t breathing and that they needed to do something NOW! The nurses scrambled like scared dogs because a frantic-looking father with Red Firey Death-Eyes needed someone to help his child, who had a not-so-perfect welcome into this world. After the nurses told your Mother that everything was going to be alright, they took the chains off my wrists and ankles, and brought you into the nursery and cleared your sinuses and mouth. Apparently, C-Section babies retain fluid in their lungs unlike "natural" birth babys. During "natural" birth, the fluid in the baby's lungs gets squeezed out. So, we decided that you should stay the rest of the night in the nursery where the nurses could look after you and we could get some sleep.
A few days later and lots of visits from family and friends, the doctor finally told us that you and your Mom were allowed to go home. Before we left, they asked us what your name is and we decided on Koen. Koen means Brave and Gallant. With the drama you went through declaring your arrival, we found the name fitting and deserving.
So, I'm writing to you about your birth experience because I want you to understand the value of life. It's 2008, our country is at war, we are about to go through a huge shift in power, and we live in a society where some people are quick at the tongue to tell you that they will "shoot" or "kill you" over nothing at all. The value of life seems to have gone down in the last 40 years. Having the ability to help save a life is one way we can all help someone in their time of need. Everyday is special, charish every moment, good or bad. Always remember that you came into this world fighting for your life, so you deserve to be here along with everyone else.
