Benjamin Robert Sherron’s entrance into the world was an eventful one. It all started with denial…
On Tuesday, Jen had been to her OB-GYN for a checkup and it was looking like she’d be having the baby soon. Her doctor “scraped the membranes” in order to kickstart the process, which led to contractions that evening. As the night wore on, Jen tried to convince herself that what she was feeling was not contractions. For my part, I downloaded an app to time the contractions on my phone. When it became clear that it was time to go to the hospital (around 12:30 in the morning), I started running around like a sitcom caricature of a dad to be. I mean, I forgot my wallet, for chrissakes.
Anyway, we got to the hospital around 1:00 a.m. and Jen’s contractions were 3 minutes apart, about a minute in duration and were escalating in intensity. She was 2 cm dialated, but she was cleared to get the epidural. 3:00 rolls around and the epidural is in effect, so we were advised to get some sleep and they’d be back around 5:00 to check in and break her water if it hadn’t broken already.
At 3:30, I awake to a swarm of doctors, nurses and residents tending to Jen. The baby’s heart rate had dropped and they were trying to see if they could bring it up. After a few minutes of intervention and assessment, they call a “code white,” gather her up (bed and all), and we head off to the operating room for a C-Section. Now, at this point, I’m all “OK, they seem concerned, but we’re in good hands here.” Then, we turn the corner and head to the straight-away and the people pushing the bed start running (yes, literally running, like a Grey’s Anatomy episode) and then I’m running and then I’m starting to freak out a little bit. We get to the OR and a nurse is getting me gowned up, but then I get stopped at the door. Turns out that the epidural wasn’t enough to keep her awake, so they had to put her under general anesthesia and I wasn’t allowed into the room.
So, I’m sitting outside the door, and I hear them putting her under and then I’m just waiting and worrying. And it wasn’t even 90 seconds later that I heard Benjamin’s first cry. And I’m thinking “That’s a good sign.” A nurse comes to me and says that I can see my son. I go in there, Jen is still asleep and being attended to, and right there is my son. So I’m thrilled to meet my baby and worried about my wife at the same time. Thankfully, the other nurse assures me that Jen is doing well. They are stitching her up when yet another nurse brings me my camera, which was left in the other room with all the commotion.
And just like that it hits me: I’m a dad. Before I can get too maudlin, Jen starts coming out of her medically induced nap. After asking several times to make sure that Ben was OK and that he had all ten fingers and toes, she gets to the important questions: “Is he ugly?” and “Does he look Asian?” The answers: Not ugly and sometimes more Asian than others:
After a stint in the recovery room and some frequently hilarious post-sedation conversation, we make our way up to our room and have our first moment with the new mom and baby.
An eventful entrance, to be sure, but both Jen and Benjamin are doing well. We took lots of pictures and will have even more to come. Until then: Hello, Benjamin!
