Sunday afternoon

It looks like I will get to go home Tuesday afternoon, but unfortunately Sofie's numbers dipped again slightly last night, so we have to reset the clock to another three days. That would mean she can go home Wednesday morning at the earliest. She's healthy, happy, and wonderful, though, so we're thankful for beyond belief for that. We spend all day every day with her in the neo natal clinic, just hanging out and taking it easy. Now all we can do is keep our fingers crossed that she can join us at home as soon as possible. Think good thoughts for us!

I am Sofie, hear me roar!

Changing baby clothes. Ben looks like he's performing surgery every time it's his turn, making sure not to miss a single button!

Sofie's reaction to Dad's clothing choice for the day. I don't think she's digging the outfit.

Check out my beautiful blue eyes! 

Sofie update and Gina's version of the birth

First of all, before I start in on the gory details of August 14, I just want to say that Sofie is absolutely perfect in every way. We just spend the morning with her and she's the cutest, cuddliest, squirmiest blob in the whole world. She's eating well, pooping well, and all in all is wonderful. Unfortunately, she has to stay in the ICU for at least another three days. Occasionally (we're talking only once per day, and just for an instant, so barely detectable) her blood oxygen levels drop below 85%, which is the no-no zone. When this happens, they start the countdown to three days of perfect numbers over again. Every time they drop they come back up again soon, and on her own. So basically, they are just being suuuuuuuper careful. I want to snatch her and take her with me now, but I don't think they would respond to that very well here.

So I guess before I go on and on about her every squirm, I'll tell you about what REALLY happened on the 14th. Now, if you don't have kids but are planning to, maybe you want to skim over this. Or if you are very squirmish, just skip down to the pictures. What you are about to read is frightening but true. Ok, it's not that bad, but it still doesn't hurt to be safe.

So let's start the evening of the 13th. The night before the planned C-section, we went to the hospital and met with the whole team that would be doing the next day's surgery. The midwives were there, going over the procedure, checking me and the baby out to make sure all systems were go. We met with the actual doctors who would do the C-section, going over how Sofie was positioned and how they would make the perfect cut, etc. The anethisiolgist came in and went over the spinal tap procedure in great detail, assuring us that nothing would go wrong, Ben could be there the whole time, and the baby would not be affected at all. At the last second the anethesiologist asked me: "Do you have all your teeth?"

"Why yes, I replied, I do. Why?"

"Can I look at them briefly?"

"Sure, Why?"

"Oh, that's nothing. That's just in case we have to do general anesthesia. That will never happen. That is only in real cases of emergency. I just have to ask that by law. Just forget about it."

He told me the whole teeth reason, but I didn't really listen since it didn't concern me. I did what he said and just forgot about it.

In any case, the whole thing went without a hitch. We signed forms, asked questions, shook hands, and planned to return to the delivery wing at 10am the next morning. That would give us time to sleep in, take a nice refreshing shower, answer some morning emails, and make our way slowly to the big day.

Or so we thought.

As Ben so eloquently described, I was not too happy when I discovered I had wet the bed. I assumed that's what it was since it was clear and there really wasn't that much of it. I sat on the toilet for a while, since that was the cleanest place for a leaking lady to be, while Ben called the hotline. He said we should go to the hospital to be safe. I, on the other hand, a) wanted to go back to bed, I mean, what's the big deal about a little leaking? b) didn't want to pay for a taxi (the morning tram ride would be free, so let's just wait for that!), and c) I HATE having my plans changed at the last minute. I mean, we were already going over in a few hours, what was the worst that could happen if we waited?

After debating for a while, I decided to call the hotline myself and get a second opinion. The midwife on the other end (that's what they call nurses here, they do pretty much everything and more that a doctor can do as far as I'm concerned), finally convinced me to come in, so I reluctantly grabbed my bag, and within three minutes we were in a taxi heading to the hospital. All I kept thinking what that this was a big waste of time and I wish I was still in bed. I was still 50% sure I just peed the bed, I really wasn't sure about the whole water breaking thing.

So once we arrived, things started off pretty slow. A nice girl about my age introduced herself as the on-call midwife (she is the hero of the story and I can't even remember her name) and went on to check my stats, then checked the pH of my leaking liquid to find out for sure if it was amniotic fluid or pee. As it turns out, my water did indeed break. So then it was time for a little chat. Apparently we had options. Even though my water broke, I wasn't having contractions, so there was still time to wait until the scheduled C-section, that was the best option and we went for that. She went to get the medicine which they give women to stop the contractions from starting so they can safely wait a few hours for a C-section. While she went to get the medicine, the contractions started. Hard and fast with very little time in between.

I was officially in labor.

The midwife, upon seeing me panting like a dog and Ben pleading with me to wait a little bit, had to politely ask if she could see how dialated I was. This requires the nice lady to basically stick her whole hand up there to check the opening of the cervix. It's usually a very fast procedure, 10 seconds maximum. In this case, however, she placed her plastic-gloved hand up there, cheerfully telling me everything was still quite standard and fine, and then instantaneously her tone changed. With her free hand she grabbed her cell phone and started yelling at someone in German. 3 or 4 people ran into the room immediately, two people put compression stalkings on me while one pulled off my clothes. The midwife, and the midwife's hand, remained in place.

So the waiting for the C-section deal was clearly no longer an option, but we still weren't sure what was going on. Once the action was in gear, the widwife explained hurriedly that I wasn't dilated, but that when she went to check on the cervix situation, she noticed that Sofie was sitting on the umbilical cord. If I happened to become dilated, which I hear is what women do in labor, Sofie could push down on it on the way out and cut off her oxygen supply, basically killing herself in a short period of time. The midwife's hand was up there, holding Sofie's butt off of her own umbilical cord, and there it stayed for the ENTIRE TIME.

In the shuffle to the operating table, they throw Ben a pair of scrubs and tell him to suit up. At this point there was still time to do the spinal tap (about a three minute procedure) and get a crew in for the C-section. At this point I'm laying on my back, midwife still firmly attached to me and Sofie, and people are rushing back and forth and yelling in German across my line of vision. The operating room is big, empty, and there's a bright light coming from the ceiling. The only thing I can clearly see is the baby heart rate monitor, so I focus on that. 133 beats per minute, good, strong heart rate. Things are fine, I tell myself.

Next, I hear a voice telling me they are the anesthesiologist and that he would like me to move from the bed to the operating table. This means that both me and Ms. Midwife, who I can't see but can definitely feel, have to make a crab-walk together from the bed to the table as in-sync as possible. As best we can, we shimmy to the operating table, all ready to go.

That's when shit hit the fan.

The midwife screamed something in German, the heart rate monitor went from 133 to ??????. Yep, no flat line, just flashing question marks. So that's when we went into the emergency, emergency C-section. The anesthesiologist yelled, "we're putting you under, sorry," and a giant mask went over my face. Next, another lady yelled, "I'm sorry, normally we do this when you're unconscious, but I have to put your catheter in." Poke. Next, someone was rubbing my entire body with iodone to sterilize the cut. This all happened in a matter of seconds. I yelled, "Wait, I'm not asleep yet!" at the top of my lungs, and someone said, "Yes, we know. . ." and then I was out.

My next memory is coming to in another room, with a lady looking at me and asking how I was doing. Then Ben showed up, and someone brought Sofie to me briefly. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but then they took her away and told me to go back to sleep. Ben went with her to make sure she was alright, and I dozed off and on again for a while.

Apparently during the crabwalk from the bed to the operating table I had gone from non-dilated to 8cm dilated, meaning labor was in full swing and Sofie was trying to get out. Now, if Sofie was facing the right way and this was a normal labor, it would have been the world's fastest and easiest labor. However, the fast labor in this case meant Sofie pushed down hard on the umbilical cord, cutting off the oxygen supply despite Ms. Midwife's hand holding her up. At that point they had to act instantaneously for it to be a good outcome.They said they were able to cut Sofie out of there in 45 seconds.

So yeah, it was a pretty crazy day. But in the end, the best day of our lives. Sofie joined us at 5:17 am on August 14, 2013, weighing in at 7.06 lbs and stretching 18.5 in (3.21 kg and 47 cm as it will say on her birth certificate). She just couldn't wait for that 10 am scheduled appointment I guess. But I like to think Sofie goes by her own schedule, not confirming to some know-it-all doctor's plans. Yep, maybe she's my daughter after all.

A few things I learned from that night: 1) we owe Ms. Midwife a fruit basket or something. Not only did she save Sofie's life, I bet she had the world's worst finger cramps from holding up a 7lb bowling ball from inside a birth canal for an extensive time period without so much as blinking. She's the real hero of this story. As soon as I can walk I'm going to track her down. 2) if you're water breaks, or even if you just wet the bed, go to the hospital immediately. It's worth the cab fare. And finally, 3) it is indeed possible for one person to have a scheduled C-section, natural birth, and emergency C-section all within a 12 hr. period. Why choose just one when you can do all three?

So that about wraps up the birth experience. Sorry about all the gory details, but again, I warned you!! Now here are some pictures from earlier today. We'll try to add more tomorrow, as we forgot the camera for most of the day. But all in all, she's doing great. Her days consist of breast feeding until she passes out, pooping on Daddy during her first Daddy-diaper change, and being the cutest thing ever. Ah, life is tough!

Sofia's Arrival

Ben's version:

Oh fuck.

Those were the words that woke me up at 2:55 am on August the 14, 2013. Most of you are aware that Gina is a peculiarly poor sleeper and under normal circumstances she has to work pretty hard to bring me to a fully conscious state. These were not normal circumstances. Within seconds of hearing the phrase I was out of bed, trying to determine the exact cause of the early morning profanity. Although the trail of fluid I happened to step in as I left the bedroom was an excellent clue, playing detective proved unnecessary when Gina yelled from our bathroom that her water had broken. Strangely, surprisingly, things immediately calmed down immediately after that. 

Nothing else happened. Gina was leaking; that's it. The fluid was clear and unadorned, no accompanying contractions, pain, screaming, or other panic inducing elements immediately followed my wake up. Frankly we were puzzled. Hollywood embellishes for the sake of entertainment. We discussed this in earnest, almost feeling cheated, lied to, led on. After several minutes Gina suggested we might as well call our hospital, which I did. They told us to come to the hospital immediately. Would that really be necessary Frau Nurse, we wondered. A midnight drive through the streets of Zurich seemed like such a hassle when all we were dealing with was a little leakage. Politely but firmly the calm voice on the other end of the line told us no, that we should come as soon as possible. Thankfully we listened. We ordered a taxi and within minutes one appeared, the driver clearly worried about preserving the cleanliness of his seats as we boarded. "Triemlispital bitte." The words said, we were off.

After arriving at the hospital, everything was still calm, everyone totally unaware of what was to come. Initial examinations were done, discussion revolved around whether to hold off contractions or to have the operation earlier than scheduled. And then our midwife checked to see if Gina was dilating. Immediately the language switched from English to German, voices were raised, people began to move very quickly, and lots of people in various colors made their appearances. We were told the baby was pushing down on the umbilical cord, reducing her supply of oxygen and endangering her life. We were told an immediate, emergency C-section had to be done, but that there was still time to insert a spinal so that Gina and I, both alert and in a relatively sane state of mind could be present for the birth of our daughter. Within minutes Gina was rolled out of the examination room and I was thrown a pair of scrubs and told to wait a few minutes until a nurse came to get me. Several minutes later- although it felt like hours- a clearly agitated junior doctor ran into the room and in broken English stated that "we had to intubate her."And left.

The next ten minutes or so were frightening, truly and horribly frightening. Helplessness is an awful feeling and sitting in that room with only my own horrible fear for company, that is what I was. If I wanted to I could probably do a fair job sharing the experience but I don't feel like it; it's not important. The outcome is however.

As I write this my wife is sitting next to me reading Sippy Cups Are not for Chardonnay. My infant, who only yesterday was unable to breath without assistance now has the most powerful lungs in the neonatal ward. Things worked out for us in the early morning of August 14, 2013. For that I am, and will always be, thankful.

Gina's version:

To be continued. Gone for a late-night Sofie-visit, will add my version here. In the meantime, here are some pictures! Yay!

So no other babies in the neo-natal center take her spot!

Sofie with Daddy!

Sofie's first day blues!

Mommy checking out the goods.

This is one happy Dad!

Check out what I made!

That's right, she's with me.

Why does Mom keep getting so close to me? Some people have no sense of personal space!

Waiting for the big day

Well, we are only a few days away from Sofia's arrival. I can't wait. Months of preparation, planning, anticipation, thinking, dreaming, and waiting will soon be over. It's exciting and frightening. Gina and I have spent so much time wondering what she will look like, act like, be like, and now we start to begin to find out. Important issues, meaningful thoughts are more difficult to ignore I've found. But basically we are ready to have our little baby. It should be quite an adventure.

To kill time until Sofia gets here we've been going to the lake, going hiking, working, etc. Nothing special. But yesterday we went to the orange theater to celebrate my birthday. Apparently orange, a major telecommunications company, is famous for installing temporary, summertime movie theaters all over the world. They installed one in Zurich this past June. Set right against the lake, the 350 m sq. screen folds down to allow for uninhibited views of the alps until it's time to play the movie. Built around the theater is a large amphitheater and eating areas. Gina and I took a water ferry from our side of the lake to the theater and arrived several hours early. We then proceeded to eat dinner and then went for a walk around the park just outside the lake, which somehow came to house an enormous Chinese inspired garden and what I can only describe as a traditional imperial Chinese castle. (I know nothing about Chinese architecture so maybe it was just some dudes house a while ago, I'm not certain,)

As cool as the theater and park were, the most amazing thing about these entire evening was the method employed to reserve seating. My biggest concern arriving so early was how we were going to lay claim to excellent seats, and then wander around to eat and drink and marvel. It turns out the Swiss provide name cards which everyone fills out and then dutifully places on their seats. This works here. Not only is there universal respect for the name cards, but people leave cameras, backpacks, clothing, etc. on the seats. I don't think theft has been invented here yet. Going in I figured Gina and I would get seats, and then one of us would hold down the fort, aggressively repelling any and all parties seeking to claim the unoccupied seat until the other returned with sustenance. It's a technique virtually every American has perfected. Apparently it's an unnecessary skill here. I'm still in shock. Name cards...

Anyways, the movie wasn't bad. I don't remember so many of the crew almost getting eaten by giant white sharks in the book, but I guess that makes for better entertainment than getting whacked in the face by flying fish all the time, which was apparently a problem during the real thing. Here are a few pictures of the yesterday.

our ride to the theater

view of the theater from the ferry

not a bad view