So Josiah Levi Foster was born today, at 1:38pm, weighing in at 7 pounds 7 ounces, and measuring 19 1/2 inches, at Mercy Hospital in downtown Des Moines. Very exciting, very exhausting, very memorable day!
Tomorrow we will be starting the series of tests and check-ups to see if there is a problem with his kidneys, and whether or not surgery will be needed. Besides that, Kasey had to go through another c-section; neither of us wanted one in the first place as they seem to add a flavor of "NASCAR pit crew doing business as usual" to what should be a time of rejoicing and praise, welcoming new life into the world. But, with Kasey's first delivery experience being less than pleasurable, we went with the tried-and-true this time around. So far things are going great; Kasey is doing well and recovering, and baby Josiah is healthy and strong, eyes wide open and taking it all in.
It feels weird being at home with just me and Ben here, and Kasey and Josiah in the hospital. Hopefully, we will be able to come home Thursday night instead of Friday morning, so we might be able to start our new lives with two boys that much sooner!
Ice cream tastes great. Movies and television can be entertaining. A good book can invigorate and educate. Friends and family can support you and make you laugh. But when you hear your son cry out for the first time, and see him for the first time, and hold him for the first time, all else fades away and becomes sheer nonsense.
I wish I had more and better words to help describe the feeling; you're in this room filled with bright lights, expensive medical tools, nurses running all around holding stuff or getting ready to hold stuff, and doctors doing who-knows-what on the other side of the curtain separating you and your wife from all the "action." You're holding your wife's hand, wondering if you should try to convince her to let you take a picture of her in this emotional and traumatic state because everyone wants to remember this part. You can hear the doctors discussing the game plan on the other side of the curtain: "With a snip snip here, and a cut cut there..." "Don't touch that." "Where's the manual?" All of a sudden, the banter stops, the nurses stop running around, and you hear it: the first cry. Your heart stops, your eyes water up, you try and catch a glimpse of him as he comes forth into the world. Next thing you know, he's taken over to a table where he's poked and examined and cleaned for what seems like eternity, before being wrapped up and taken over to see Mommy. And the whole time this is going on, the doctors are high-fiving each other; you're trying to keep from getting steam-rolled by the delivery nurses while trying to wrestle them out of the way for the best camera angle; and you still haven't taken a breath or seen through clear eyes.
There, maybe those words will help.
But I doubt it.
"Come, thou Fount of every blessing,
tune my heart to sing thy grace;
streams of mercy, never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,
mount of thy redeeming love."
-Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing