Home Alone

The question of the week is… Who is more vulnerable at the two-week mark? The 14-day old infant, who relies on mommy and daddy for day-to-day survival? Or the 14-day old daddy who is about to be left alone with the baby for the first time? Don’t answer that so quickly, my friends. I know I’m no Mr. Mom, but I have been known to hold my own with infants and toddlers in the past. And we all came out relatively unscathed.

With my whole-hearted approval, Heather made herself a spa day on Saturday. She and her best friend took off for three hours of manicure, pedicure and whatever other secret girl stuff they do at those places. That made it a daddy day. Well, a daddy three-hour tour. And although I may have Gilliganesque tendencies at times, I was not about to let the Skipper down. Besides, I have modern technology on my side. I have a bouncy chair that vibrates and plays music, a play yard that vibrates, plays music and nature sounds and a swing that plays music, nature sounds and has a mobile. Which gets me thinking that these contraptions all have one thing in common… Motion.

Somewhere back in the baby soothing laboratories at these companies, there are rooms of babies in various swings, seats and slingshots being tested for their reaction to movement. I guess the idea is that life in the womb is full of movement and noise and that to replicate that is the way to soothe the savage bambino. It’s a great theory. And it probably works on occasion. I know one of the parent tips of my generation is to go for drives with the papoose in the car seat. It’s usually a sure-fire nap starter. Some folks even strap the kid in to the seat at the home. They don’t need to go for a drive. Junior is strapped in and conks out. As usual, it’s different for each baby and through trial and error, you find out for yourself what works best for your little one.

So, here I am with technology’s best products lined up before me in some sort of testing track of my own. But before we put on the lab coats for our research, baby has to be in the right frame of mind. There’s no point putting our test pilot in the cockpit if they’re not ready. In our two weeks together, my test pilot and I have determined the best pre-test routine consists of daddy’s 14-point oil/diaper change, one four-ounce bottle of breast milk and a thorough burping session. By which time our pilot is either drunk on milk and ready to pass out or eagerly exploring her new universe with wide-open eyes. If the latter occurs, daddy has a prepared slate of songs and other distractions that hopefully get us back to ready-to-pass-out stage. And usually, our failsafe backup known as mommy is around. But we’re performing without a net, today.

With the pre-flight checklist complete, our pilot has decided on a course of wide-eyed exploration with a hint of fussiness. After a round of “She Loves You” backed with “From Me To You,” the nodding-off process kicks in. She’s not quite out, so my first course is the bouncy seat. Although she’s too small to really work the “bouncy” part, the battery-powered vibration is usually calming enough in these situations. Except today. Instead of aiding her trip to slumber, the chair’s position provides a perfect view of daddy standing overhead. Curiosity beats out sleep this time and she spends her vibrating moments watching my every move.

It’s time for the swing. I choose the side-to-side option and power up to level three. In moments, Finley is swinging like an astronaut in a g-force simulator. For a brief second I wonder what level ten looks like. But my wonderment ends as I imagine trying to explain to Heather how our daughter wound up on top of the bookcase. This seems to work for a bit but she’s still looking around and her fussiness level has risen a bit. We move on to the play yard. With vibration on level 2 and one of my better swaddles in place, Finley is set into position and begins to fall asleep. As her eyelids grow heavier, I think “mission accomplished.” But, like the man who most recently uttered those words, I was just fooling myself.

Fussiness explodes into crying as all bets are off and it’s time for a daddy rescue mission. Swooping in, I gather her up and sit back down on the couch, her head on my shoulder, my hand soothing her back. This is where she decides to fall asleep. It turns out that all the technology in the world can’t account for human contact. Her favorite bed isn’t the big ticket item with the bells and whistles. It’s dad. I know that technically, it’s probably because I’m warm and she can hear my heartbeat, which reminds her of the womb. But I like to think it’s because I’m her daddy. And I hope that as she gets older, I can still be her favorite place to find comfort. Even when she’s twenty, I hope it’s not too hard for her to curl up next to her old man when she’s had a rough day. That probably won’t happen, but it’s nice to know that for now, I’m better than a bouncy chair.

March Madness

Sleep deprivation is not fun. It can make you think things you probably shouldn’t. And then it makes you focus on these things until you fall apart. I’ve had sleepless nights as worrisome thoughts enter my brain and make things that aren’t so bad, seem awful. In fact, when we were dating, I went through an episode like this with Heather. I remember worrying about something at work so much that it made me ill and made me feel crazy. I also remember the look on Heather’s face when I was going through this. It was like, “What have I gotten my self into?” Luckily and as usual it all passed. I don’t go through those moments a lot, but they are nasty when they hit. Just this past week it was my turn to comfort as Heather experienced the reality of motherhood.

First of all, I have to make it clear that Heather is a wonderful person and will be perhaps the greatest mommy ever. But as you moms and most dads know, it takes a little time. What makes this so difficult is the rapid pace at which it all begins. Heather’s contractions really started kicking in Saturday morning. Finley was born early Sunday morning. The friends and relatives swung by Sunday afternoon. By Sunday night, it was just the two of us, alone in the hospital room, looking at this little person we just made. It was like someone handed us this kid, said “Go!” and ran away.

Of course, going into the birth, we thought we were prepared. And really, we were. But there is no amount of planning to get you ready for this… Unless you’ve already been through it. Those of you who know Heather know she is a planner. She likes to do things her way and she likes to have a schedule to get it all done. All the people she works with are nodding in agreement. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s why she is good at what she does. And those of you who know me, know that I’m a little more laid back and I go with the flow. Together, we compliment each other. A baby has no plan. Let me correct that. Our baby has a plan, but it’s nothing of which we are aware. I bet if she could talk, she would share it with us. Or not.

It’s a very overwhelming thing. Especially for Heather. For nine months (ten, if you are paying attention) she carried this kid around and dealt with physical and emotional changes and toward the end got pretty used to it. Then, WHAM! She’s pushing this person out of her body and now has to start nursing and caring with no chance to breathe. I’m not saying she’s any different from any other mom out there, I’m just trying to explain what it’s like.

Babies are good at three things. Crying, eating and pooping. Not necessarily in that order. We are blessed, at this point, that Finley is not a shrieker. That is to say her cries are more fussy sounds than all-out wails. And we are also blessed that she likes us. We can both hold her to calm her and it doesn’t take too much time. But the kid, like her old man, can eat. And eat. And eat. The first few days she was eating more than sleeping, which sent us (Heather especially) into a no-sleep zone. It’s not hitting me as much, since I’m not the nursing type. Don’t get me wrong, I do my part. But when it comes to lactating, I’ve got nothing.

So, Heather is up in the night, feeding and trying to sleep next to Finley. But when you haven’t had much sleep it’s hard to find peace when your mind is racing. She’s worried about being a mama and our relationship and all the things that parents think about. And with sleep deprivation, those thoughts are magnified. Again, I know a lot if not all you mamas out there are nodding in agreement. I also know you mamas will say that it passes. I know that. Heather knows that. It’s just hard to see that far ahead at this point.

But here’s the thing. For all the worrying and crazy thoughts that are going through Heather’s mind, she’s doing it. She’s being a mama. Finley isn’t starving. Her diapers are changed. She’s getting all the love in the world. And she really is a good baby. Sometimes it’s hard to see in a sleepy fog, but Heather is doing what it takes to make it happen. The sleep will come. The schedule that seems so out of reach will slowly reappear. And that’s my job as a daddy. To remind her how good of a job she’s doing. To lend a hand however I can. Whether it’s a diaper change or a rock to sleep or even taking over the cooking and cleaning duties, that’s my job. It occurs to me that the job of daddy is really just an offshoot of the job of husband. To be a good daddy, you need to be a good husband. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my girls. Plus, I know that in just a few years, a little girl will scold me for not following mommy’s schedule.

Being There

It's just over 24 hours since the birth of my daughter and I'm running on a cross between sleep deprivation, caffeinated beverages and pure joy. Mama and baby are sleeping soundly and I find myself a bit hyper, so I'll jot some thoughts down to get me to fall asleep. The past few days' blogs are a bit rushed, and I'm sure you understand why, so I'll try to fill in some gaps.

The curtain rose on our little symphony at about midnight on Thursday. Heather had been having a few Braxton-Hicks or "practice" contractions earlier in the evening and I joked, like I always do, that "THIS IS THE BIG ONE!" Then she'd shoot me that look. The one I know so well. It's how she says "you're and idiot" without opening her mouth. I think most husbands know it. After a few of the practice contractions you don't think much, because, well, they're practice. As we're getting into bed for the evening, she suddenly grabbed the side of the bed and shot me a new look. This one was definitely not "you're an idiot." This one was part terror, part pain and part "THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" Now, if you've been reading the blog, you know I wrote about wondering what it all would be like when it happens. How would I react? What would I say? And I had been hoping to come up with some eloquent or profound statement about the impending arrival of my daughter. So, what did I do? I threw up. Yep. Daddy hurled. It was something about the look Heather gave me. Something about the "this is really happening" vibe in the air. I thought it might have been something about the Mexican dinner we had, but it was just good ol' nerves.

I figured it was because all this time I had been so proud to play the strong one, the knowledgeable one. The daddy. But when it came down to it, I was just as scared as the next person. And that's okay. Besides, as I was about to find out, no person is stronger than my wife was for the next 48 hours.

After my quick trip to the washroom and a giggle between us, Heather and I attempted to get the last rest we would probably get... ever. She had some smaller contractions as the night progressed. Nothing too major.

That morning, we got up and Heather went to her already-scheduled doctor appointment. Doctor Tsang (pronounced "Jung"), is a very small, to-the-point Chinese woman who told Heather that she was 3cm dilated and would be surprised if we didn’t have a baby over the weekend. So, what did Heather do? She went to work. That's right. It was her last day before her leave, anyway, so she needed to tidy things up at work. Contractions and all. I think she's crazy. But then again, she married me.

Friday evening progressed with a few contractions and me finishing packing my bags. Heather, on the other hand, had been packed for almost two weeks. She's VERY organized, as many of you know. She likes to make a schedule and stick to it. So does her daughter, as we were about to find out. That night's sleep was decent. A few contractions here and there, until about 3am. That's when I awoke to the sound of my wife whimpering and the sight of her on all fours, clutching at her back. This was the first of FOUR heartbreaking moments I would experience.

I have had my share of back pain and those of you who know what it's like know that it is excruciating. It's the only pain I have ever had that has driven me to my knees, crying. My wife was now experiencing the exact same thing. And in a few hours she would be experiencing it almost every five minutes.

In the birthing class you learn about "breathing." About cleansing breaths and short, sharp pain-buffering breaths. It's really about focusing. Letting yourself relax around the pain and getting through it. My job was to keep her focused. To remind her to breathe and encourage her. And it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to go through.

So that was Saturday. Every five to ten minutes Heather would get a contraction that would last between a minute and a minute and a half. And I would do my best to help her through it. Unfortunately, she was suffering pain in her back and not really feeling anything in her stomach/uterus area. At first we thought it was because the baby might be facing the wrong way and the back of her head was pressing against Heather's tailbone. But we would find out it was for a different, and in the long run, better reason.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the contractions weren't consistent enough to get us to the hospital. Then her water broke. We zipped to Evergreen and got set up with our Bulgarian nurse, Boriana. She was very attentive and helpful and worked with Heather to try to alleviate the pain. It was just too much. At about 10pm Saturday night Heather leaned to me and said she just couldn't take it, anymore. Then came heartbreaking moment number 2. With tear-filled eyes she said, "I'm sorry." Are you kidding me? What did she have to feel sorry about?

Heather wanted to go as far as she could without medication and I was behind her 100%. But I also wanted her to be as comfortable as possible and what she had been going through for nearly 13 hours was far from that. She had done her time in labor. She deserved some relief.

The epidural came at 10:30pm and she finally began to relax. This also allowed Boriana a better chance to find out how the baby was doing. It turned out that our little girl wasn't facing the wrong way. The reason Heather was in so much back pain was because Finley had actually worked her way down inside the birth canal. In fact, she was ready to be born. We were just waiting on the dilation. It also turns out that her water had probably broke much earlier than when we noticed. It's just that her head was so far in place, that it acted like a cork and didn't let any of the fluid out.

Once they determined that Finley was close, they hooked Heather up to Pitocin. This is a birth-inducing drug that helps speed up dilation. And boy, did it. When Heather got the epidural she was dilated at 5cm. Within an hour of getting Pitocin, she was at 9cm and ready to go.

And that's when the show started. In came the extra nurses, the lights and the machine that goes "bing." And in came Dr. Tsang, the conductor, all dressed and ready to go.

There are many reasons why I was glad to be there, but one I didn't expect was to play translator for Heather. Heather's contractions were now become pushes and it all had to be choreographed. The doctor had to keep track of everything and relay that info to the main nurse who would tell Heather what she needed to do. Not too complicated, right? Remember, the doctor is Chinese and the main nurse is Bulgarian. In a feat of translation not seen since Versailles, I was able to coach Heather through the next thirty minutes and heartbreaking moment number three.

This is when my wife became my hero. Finley's middle name is Ella, which is in honor of my Grandmother who was really the only grandparent I ever knew. Once, when I was little, I asked her what it was like to have a baby. She said it was "like crapping a watermelon." Now you know where I get my sense of humor. I don't pretend to guess what it was like for Heather in that thirty minute time frame. I don't want to know. But after all the back pain and all the mental and physical stress, she somehow found a way to push that baby out. Grandma Ella would be proud.

At 12:22am, on March 11, 2007, Finley Ella Dickey entered our world. Technically, she was ready to go a few minutes before midnight, which means, like her mama, she stuck to her schedule. My friends, this was heartbreaking moment number four. And you dads out there know what I mean. I saw my daughter being born. I watched as she took her first breath. And I held her as her little cloudy eyes looked up at me. What was that first thought that I had been waiting for? One word: Beautiful. I think I had been wondering so much about what it was going to be like and what it was going to feel like, that I didn't realize what she would look like. She looks like every dream I ever had that I wanted to come true. She looks like the greatest story I've ever written. She looks like perfection.

And now, 24 hours later, as I hear her gurgles and whimpers I wonder some new things. I wonder what she's going to be when she grows up. I wonder how I could ever love anything or anyone more than my wife and my baby. And without being too political, I wonder how we could get the world leaders to watch a birth every once in awhile. I can't see how you could go through this and want to ever hurt another soul. I guess from my point of view, we all need a few heartbreaking moments now and then, to keep us human.

Right on Time!

Please welcome Finley Ella Dickey! The punctual pint-sized peanut made her arrival at 12:22 am on Sunday, March 11th. The day she was due! And I'm here to tell you, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!

To follow the last blog, the Pitocin kicked in and made things roll pretty quickly. Heather, who is a true champ, pushed for maybe half an hour before our little girl took her first gasps. Baby and mama are both in great shape. No complications, no problems, just a healthy baby girl.

Stats: 7 pounds, 6 ounces and 19 1/4 inches long. Lots of dark brown hair, like dad and mama's nose and lips. She looks a LOT like her mama, thank God!

Big thanks to EVERYONE who wished us well, helped us out and just plain made this whole experience the best moment of our lives. Now we can sleep! Well, for one night anyway. More tomorrow!

Showtime!

A lot can happen in a span of a few hours when you're waiting for an angel to show up! I'm writing to you from room Blue 2-172 at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland. Heather is resting, finally, and hopefully about to get a bit of sleep before the big push to come. The nurses and staff are absolutely fantastic and we have our own little room at the end of the hallway, right next to the waiting area and "nourishment room." The soft sounds of a newborn boy can be heard from down the hall, but other than that, all is quiet. And all is well. So, how did we get here? Well, I'll tell you.

Around 5pm, Heather had one of the worst contractions of the day. The back labor she was experiencing was getting more painful, yet the contractions were too far apart to get us to the hospital. So, we were in a real rough place. I didn't want her to keep suffering, but there was not much we could do. Then her water broke. It was literally the break we needed.

We called the hospital and they told us to come in to make sure that was the case. Within the hour we were checked in and meeting the staff. Boriana, our Bulgarian nurse is fantastic and helped Heather through a couple of contractions. Unfortunately, the pain was just too intense for her to cope with, so around 10:30pm she got an epidural. It's a spinal block that numbs her from the waist down.

Now she can rest and I was about to say maybe get some sleep... But less than an hour ago, they gave her Pitocin, which speeds up dialtion and she is at 9cm of dialation.... Birth is at 10cm. Needless to say, it's time to go! Here's hoping Finley joins me for the next blog!

...and waiting...

Saturday afternoon. I’d like to say things are getting better, but they’re not. Not that they’re getting worse. Heather may argue that point, though. We thought things were on the fast track around 1pm, when we went for a walk. This seemed to alleviate some pain for her and the contractions began to start coming at a more regular rate, averaging every five minutes. The key, from the hospital point of view, is to have consistent contractions. That means five minutes apart and lasting for one minute for a whole hour.

We were real close to that at 2pm, so Heather called the hospital. After speaking with a nurse, it was decided to wait a bit more to where they are much more consistent. Unfortunately, after the call, the contractions have become more spread out… about ten minutes apart. The duration stays between one minute and one-fifteen, but the intensity of the pain has not lessened.

Needless to say, Heather is my hero. She’s being a real trooper and has a good handle on some of the coping techniques. But it is very difficult to watch her go through the pain. So, now we’re just waiting for the contractions to be a little more consistent. Hopefully things will get moving and we can get this over with. Otherwise we’re in for a long night.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Saturday morning and we're just playing the waiting game. The contractions are definitely more intense, but are inconsistent, time-wise. We had long night… the first of many, of course… as Heather averaged 2-3 per hour.

Unfortunately, as the intensity grows the pain has actually moved from being focused in the stomach/uterus area to her lower back area. After consulting our library of baby books, there could be a couple of reasons for such intense back pain. The most obvious reason is that as the baby moves lower in the pelvis, there is pressure as she begins to squeeze through that area. The other reason (And according to Heather’s doctor, this may be the case) is that the baby has not yet rotated to face the correct direction. Basically, it is ideal for the baby to be born face-down. Most babies start the other way then turn during the birthing process, but if they don’t turn right away, the hard part of the back of the head presses on mama’s lower back straining the joints and causing pain in the entire lower back area. Here’s a diagram. It’ called the occiput posterior or OP position.

Heather has had a bunch of these "back labor" pains throughout the night and into this morning and it breaks my heart to see her in such pain. BUT, even as I’m writing this, the contractions are less intense, especially on her back. This may be due to the fact that we have been trying some coping positions and she’s been up and walking to try to help the baby along. It seems to be working.

What’s next? Well, all we can do is help her cope with our balance ball and other positions our birthing class and books have taught us. At this point, there are really only two things that get us to the hospital. One is if and when her water breaks and the other is when the contractions become five or less minutes apart and last at least a minute in duration. Unless Finley decides to kick it into high gear, we could be in for a long day. Stay tuned for more!

It's a Contraction

It's Friday morning and we had a real interesting night, last night. Around midnight Heather had her first "real" contraction which raised the alert level from yellow to muave. She had probably about 1-2 per hour, which is not much at this point, but we are definitely in the pre-labor stage.

Fortunately, she had a appointment with her doctor already scheduled for this morning. The doc says baby and mama are in great shape and that Finley has moved into -1 station (see the first blog) and dialation is at 3cm. The doctor also said she would be surprised if we didn't come in this weekend and have a baby.

So, our little girl is on schedule and on time... a trait she gets from her mother. I'll be trying to keep this blog up to date as much as I can with as much information as I can.

My guess is that Finley will make her appearance either Saturday night or Sunday morning.

Keep checking back!

The Advice Column

Less than a week till the due date and it’s hard not to think about how much our lives will change after Finley arrives. Everyone we know who has kids, has relatives with kids or once saw a kid gives us lots of advice. Advice and stories. Most of them deal with how much sleep we’re not going to get. THAT part is pretty understandable. But I also know there are other things that are difficult, if not impossible to describe. Things for which there really is no advice.

What will it be like when I first see her? How am I supposed to react? What I’m going to say? I have all these thoughts in my head, like I’m about to go on a first date (Not that I go on dates, dear). I find myself thinking about these things. It’s not like I’m going to shake her hand and introduce myself, “Hi. I’m Randy, but you can call me Daddy.” My wife is certain I will cry, which is probably what will happen. But how will I FEEL? What will it be like to know there is someone so small and so fragile depending on me? What will it be like to hold this little person that we made, together? And what will go through my mind when her eyes meet mine for the first time?

Then I remember that this is the beauty of the whole process. I absolutely don’t know. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. Whatever it is that I am about to feel, I know that love will be biggest part of it. Love for my new baby and love for my wife who will be going through this entire life-changing experience from a whole different point of view. Sure, this is going to be quite an amazing event for me. That’s pretty obvious. But I can only begin to imagine what Heather is about to go through.

As wonderful as the whole pregnancy process has been, it sure is unfair in many ways. And I’m not just talking about the pain of birth, here. I’m talking about pregnancy as a whole. It’s interesting that how, in our society, we place so much emphasis on all the discomfort in pregnancy; Morning sickness, stretch marks, rearranged organs and many things that most women don’t want to discuss. But what about the good stuff? Well, good from my point of view, anyway.

My wife calls me over, from time to time, to feel the baby move. This little, crouched gymnast likes to work on her floor routine, particularly in the evenings. Tiny elbows and feet glide under my wife’s belly and I wonder what that must feel like. What is it like to not only create a life, but keep it in inside you as it grows? I have to think the pure amazement must outweigh the discomfort. Of course, I don’t pretend to speak for my wife in these matters.

Then there is the birth, itself. For the sake of my wonderment, let’s forget about the pain and think about what is actually happening. A life is being born. A very small person is leaving a perfectly warm and comfortable water bubble, is pushed out into a cold, bright world and has to start using these things called lungs. Sounds kind of scary, but humans have been doing this for a few years, so I think we’ll be okay. And I can’t help to feel that the fact that Heather is literally giving life makes me just a bit jealous. Not that I would trade places, but what a great gift to have. Probably the greatest gift of all. No wonder the dad on all those Learning Channel shows looks so helpless. There’s not much he can do, except be there for her. And from what I’ve seen, heard and read, that’s a pretty important role.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the first person to ever go through this. And no matter how much advice I get or how many Learning Channel shows we watch, it feels like I’m charting some undiscovered country. In many ways I am. This is new stuff for me. This is new stuff for Heather. And that’s what all the advice is about. It’s about all the friends and family we have, who have gone through this, sharing their experiences and letting us know that we’re not alone. That it doesn’t have to be so scary. That we have support. In the long run, I guess we just have soak up every moment for what it is. That way, when it’s our turn, we’ll be the ones to give the advice.

The Test Run

So, now that we’re awaiting the arrival of our little girl, something else decided to show up. Something that we weren’t exactly expecting or wanting. It was Saturday evening when Heather started feeling a bit nauseous and by Sunday she was in the throes of a full on late-winter cold. Colds are never any fun no matter when you get them, but when you’re nine-and-a-half months pregnant, it is downright unfair. It’s not just that the mommy is coughing and sneezing with a nose full of gunk, but she can’t take any medicine. Well, not much, anyway. Tylenol isn’t going to do much for a fit of coughing that hurts ribs already sore from a small human growing inside of her. So mommy has to just suck it up and blow it out. We need more Kleenex.

Being the stubborn… scratch that… Being the strong woman Heather is, she cowgirled up and went to work on Monday, promising me she would only work half a day. Three-quarters of a day later, in slumps my sick wife. Now, here is where I step in as the man of the house and put my foot down. “You’re not going in to work tomorrow,” I say, practicing my dad voice. “Ya think?” she answers, in a perfectly formed 13-year old daughter’s tone, obviously preparing me for the years to come.

Somewhere around 3:00 am, between cough number 1,542 and cough number 1,543 I realize that this whole sickness is a test run. We wake up every two hours. One of us gets up. There is Kleenex everywhere. We both try to go back to sleep. The following day is a sleep-deprived walk through a fog. Practice. Except for my wife’s stuffed noggin and aching throat, we’re doing a dry run for Finley. But something tells me this is only the tip of the iceberg. Actually, EVERYBODY tells me this is only the tip of the iceberg.

Heather goes back for three-quarters of a day on Wednesday, because she “has to.” Wednesday night is another rehearsal and Heather hits the peak of the cold. Although she wisely stays home Thursday and gets a doctor’s okay to take Tussin, it is then I discover the danger of The Learning Channel. Midway through my work day, I get an email. “We are going to be hopeless.” These words of encouragement come from my rock, my anchor, my medicine-headed wife who has been watching a pair of shows called “A Baby Story” and “Bringing Home Baby.” Needless to say, when I get home, I can’t tell if the tissues are for her cold or from all the crying she’s done. We need more Kleenex.

If you’ve never seen these programs, they are as real as reality gets. They’re basically video diaries, following couples as they go through the process of birth and the first few days back home. On the bright side, you get to see what it’s going to be like. On the other hand, you get to see what it’s going to be like. It all kind of blends together for me into eight distinct phases:

1. Mom goes into labor, spends a lot of time making groaning noises and holding onto doorways while dad either lightly rubs her back or keeps a fist-swinging distance while asking if she needs anything.
2. Mom is in the hospital, taking instructions from a nurse or midwife, while dad either lightly rubs her back or keeps a fist-swinging distance while asking if she needs anything.
3. Mom and dad cry as they see their child for the first time.
4. Dad struggles to get the infant into the car’s baby seat, while mom looks at him like “I just passed a person through my body and you can’t even work a safety belt.”
5. Mom and dad sit in awe looking at their baby.
6. Mom and dad sit in awe looking at their baby’s poop.
7. Mom and dad don’t get any sleep.
8. Mom and dad couldn’t be happier.

All of which turns Heather into a wreck. Between the frightening scenes of labor and the amazing cuteness of newborns, I find myself lightly rubbing her back and keeping a fist-swinging distance while asking if she needs anything. Sure, it’s scary. She’s about to go through something incredibly traumatic. But there is a light at the end of that tunnel of pain. It’s a little girl who will bring us more joy than we could ever imagine. Besides, between all the colds and tears of joy to come, all we need is more Kleenex.