Woreed about Jackson

This is Finley on her invisible phone, calling someone to help her with her cousin, Jackson. She looks very worried that something is wrong with him.

The funny faces of Finley

Finley vs. Cat-Cat

Finally, Finley!

(This was originally posted in dad's blog here.)

Despite sending signs to the contrary, my recalcitrant daughter Finley chose to sleep through her due date of July 23, temporarily thwarting our deep desire to finally meet her. On Wednesday morning, the doctor called and said that we should make our way to the hospital. No hurry, but Nicole’s blood work from the day before turned-up a platelet count found to be a little low.

We checked-in to St. David’s Women’s Center. Even though the facility, room, and staff were all tip-top, Wednesday just ended-up being a parade of frustration and disappointing news. Sure enough, Nicole’s platelets were even lower than the day before. So, she was put on a steroid cycle that was to last 72 hours, after which they would induce labor. This was not going to plan at all. We didn’t want to induce labor in the first place, much less have to spend three days in the hospital before even starting. Nicole also got some bad IV sticks that made her hand swell-up so badly, she looked like she was wearing a catcher’s mitt. It was gross.

Thursday morning brought some good news – Nicole’s platelets had rebounded and were above a safe level. Unfortunately, she was still only at 1 cm, so they used something called Cervidil to help out. It would take 12 hours and even then maybe it would work and maybe not. Nicole had contractions all day Thursday, but they were so easy and irregular, that she hardly took any notice. She spent the day visiting with my mother and so little was going on that I went to work! When I got back to the hospital Thursday evening, the contractions were better than ever. They were still easy, but at least they were becoming more regular. I enjoyed watching the contraction monitor, because it made a graph that looked like the old Atari Lunar Lander game.

Late that evening, Nicole’s contractions finally started to become more pronounced and they were causing Nicole some discomfort. For the first time, we began to put our birth plan into practice. We used a natural-birth technique called hypnobirthing, which used hypnosis, meditation, breathing, and massage to control the pain and allow the body to easily do what it is already built to do. Nicole was breathing through the contractions (called surges in hypnobirthing), while I gave her soft-touch skin massage. This went on for about an hour. The on-call doctor came in and measured Nicole. She was 7 cm and at -1 station. But since she was checked, she no longer had the Cervidil. The doctor made a face as if to say, sorry hon, you still have a ways to go. The doctor and nurse left us to our breathing. My mother settled into the sofa with her journal. I set my mind for a long night. I looked at the clock. 10:30 pm. I wondered where I could get some coffee.

Not even a minute later, Nicole grabbed the front of my shirt and balled it into her fist as if she were threatening me. Maybe she was. She was clearly in more pain than she had been in just a few minutes before. After the surge passed, she looked at me. Something had changed. Her eyes looked wild, like those of a caged animal. She looked at me and said, “I want to push this baby out.”

I hadn’t expected or planned for that. One of the fundamentals of hypnobirthing is that there is no pushing. I froze.

“Call the nurse”, she said.

“Uh, should I call her direct number or should I push the red button on your remote control?”

“CALL THE NURSE!!!”

I pushed the red button. “Can you send Lisa in here? She wants to push the baby out,” I said.

My expectation was that a nurse would come to the room and check us again, but apparently Nicole had stumbled upon a very substantial code phrase. The door opened and no less than six nurses came into the room. They quickly began rearranging the room, moving IV stands, and tearing open bags of God-knows-what. A rolling mirror appeared. Like a Transformer, the bed began to move and tilt, while foot rests extended from the side. The doctor walked-in while pulling on her wetworks gear. The room had exploded in activity. A nurse we had never even met before began to help Nicole with her breathing.

The doctor walked to the foot of the bed. A nurse said, “She’s blown away – 10 cm, +3.”

Nicole looked down at the doctor. “I want to push,” she said.

The doctor smiled. “Then push.”

Nicole pushed hard while I continued to stroke her arm and reassure her. That’s when I looked down and saw that the doctor was already holding the baby’s head in her hand! The doctor was smiling and shaking her head. The doctor had me hold one of Nicole’s legs back, while a nurse did the same on the other side. Nicole pushed again. The doctor gave a little tug, but the baby didn’t budge. Finley’s face was contorted into an unhappy grimace. Everyone encouraged Nicole to do one more push. She reared-back, cried-out and our little girl was here.

Nicole called out, “My baby, my baby!”

She’s purple, I thought. Nobody tells you they are going to be purple. They set her on mum’s tummy and I cut the cord. Then we took her over to a heated bed, while the doctor tended to Nicole.



Just minutes old and very, very cross.



Getting measured and printed. 7 lbs. and 4 oz., 20″ long.



Mom, dad, and Finley.



Serious lungs.



I took her down to the nursery where they cleaned her up a little and inoculated her against this and that. She didn’t mind getting checked out at all. She got a shot right in the bottom of her foot and she just looked vaguely perturbed.



Beautiful mother and daughter.

Everyone came home on Saturday (not before Finley’s first trip to Taco Deli) and we have been enjoying getting to know one another. Most importantly, everyone is happy and healthy and we are in love with our daughter.

If you would like see more photos of Finley, you might want to follow her on Twitter here.

The Baby Whisperer

Finley missed her due date, so Coen tries to telepathically communicate with her and encourage her to come on out.

Birthday Swim

Finley's last day in her submersible. Good chance she will be born later tonight or tomorrow.

Finley's first official photo

This is Finley thumbing her nose at us. Is this a good predictor of future behavior? We shall see.