Marcellus Robert, his story

I did not know how I was going to start this blog, in fact until very recently I had no desire to blog.  When I heard people talk about blogging I wondered what do they have to talk about?  I have read a couple and not very interested in them unfortunately.  It was not until my son passed that I realized maybe I have something to say, not to preach, but to share my experiences in hopes to help maybe one person out there.

back to how I would start,  I did not know if I should start blasting away with my feelings, or with a poem, or a picture.  I then realized that I should start with him.

Marcellus Robert was born 10/28/2011 at 10:01am.  Born 28 weeks 5 days gestation he was considered "very premature" but not a "micro-preemie."  My wife and I were planning a homebirth followed by an extended breastfeeding period, slings and baby wearing, and cloth diapering.  We were going to raise him as close to us as possible following the advice of alternate parenting and people like Dr. Sears.  What we got was a cesarean section and a highly medical journey.

He was breached, and the O.B. said that she would not deliver a breach baby at 28 weeks, and immediately after that she said she would have to do a vertical incision because of the size of the uterus at that point.  That marked the first time we both lost it.  Vertical incision would me no more vaginal births in the future and a limit to future kids.  Our midwife (doula at that point because she held as much power in the hospital as does a stranger) argued for a horizontal incision and we begged and begged for one.  She relented her position and said she would try.  Fast forwarding to the happiest moment of my life.

At 10:01 as I was holding my wifes hand I heard the O.B. say "its a boy!"  and "we did a horizontal incision."  I barely remember much after 'its a boy'  as I kissed my wife and rushed after the baby as the baby was rushed to the exam room where the doctors and nurseres were waiting to clean/asses him.  I stood there as they were assessing him smiling and literally jumping for joy.  I was looking at my son, my crying, screaming son.  I was a daddy, at that moment in life everything changed for me.  The Dr.  turned to me and said "hes really crying, thats a good sign"  and then in a awe he said "you want to touch him?"  I did not know if touching him would cause a deadly infection or anything like that, I mean he looked so fragile and everyone was covered head to toe in surgical gear.  I reached out my hand and touched my son for the very first time in my life.
He grabbed my finger.
It was only for tens of seconds I am sure but time felt like it stopped, I just stared at him and everything around me just melted away, my son was holding my hand forever connected.

The doctors wanted to get him on a ventilator to give him some rest from trying to breathe as his lungs were so premature.  This meant that they could not bring him into the O.R. where my wife was being stitched shut.  I went back for the rest of the surgery and told her about everything that happened.  I felt like I talked for the 20 minutes or so about him when I only saw him for a couple minutes.  I kept saying "he looks so good, he looks so good, hes perfect, hes ok!"  And he was ok.  His apgar scores were 8 and 9!

Being 28 weeks 5 days gestation that meant he had a lot of time to spend in the hospital and the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit).  We quickly succumbed to that fate for him, we wanted a natural birth around Christmas with candles and the tree on and we got a highly medical c-section.  A completely opposite outcome of his birth than what we planned for but we had our son.

She set herself on healing as quick as possible (she already saw him twice the evening of the surgery, being wheeled there by me)  the next day she was walking to the NICU and pumping for breastmilk.  What I saw in my wife was extraordinary, I saw such strengh and determination for our son.  She WAS going to see him and she WAS going to get him breastmilk.  Nurses would say "you should rest" and she would say "were going, get the wheelchair"  and of course I had to listen to my wife.  She was his mother, no one was going to stop her from being with him, not even major surgery.  Of course this was at 3 pm after the surgery.  I saw him earlier with my midwife because she could not get out of bed because of her spinal (which made her essentially paralyzed.)