2 years ago at 10:52pm, Theodore Xavier Zurheide made his appearance outside of my womb.
The day started out pretty nondescript. I was with Logan for the first half while Paul went to his class at Hunter College in Manhattan. I started having minor contractions, but I didn't really think anything of it because I had had out-of-control Braxton-hicks for the entire last trimester. We had already gone to the hospital twice thinking he was trying to make his appearance. That day I clearly remember that Logan had just figured out how to climb onto the coffee table, and he would dance around while I fretted he would fall, but he was having so much fun and was so adorable I just rode that wave. But the contractions persisted and kept getting stronger. Paul came home and had his evening writing class online in the study. I remember being on the couch with painful contractions to the point I couldn't talk through them, which I knew from the baby books was when it was probably time to head to the hospital.
So we called Paul's father so he and his partner could come stay with Logan. It took them a while to get to our place in Bay Ridge from their condo in Rockaway, and when they finally made it we were really ready to go. It had started pouring rain (a lot like today in New York) and a beautiful, intense lightning storm was taking place. Paul hates to drive at night and in the rain, and he had to contend with both that night to get us safely to NYU Langone, which was thankfully only about 10 minutes from our place. I refused to get out of the car without him, so we parked and headed down the stairs, out of the garage, and into the hospital. When you are 38 weeks pregnant, no one asks you any questions, you just get to go right on up to the L&D floor. Luckily we knew our way around by then and didn't waste any time.
The whole time I was worried this was just another false alarm and they would send us home for a THIRD time, heads hung low and embarrassed. And it almost happened! They checked me in to triage and hooked me up to the monitors to see where I was at. The PA gave me a physical and told us they would most likely send us home. The whole time I was definitely having contractions, but I think I must have a really high tolerance for pain, because the on-call OB came in and asked, "Can you feel your contractions?" "Yes" I replied. She gave me a quick physical (ugh) and asked "Do they hurt?" I took a moment and tentatively answered, "Kind of? They hurt more than my normal Braxton-hicks." She swiftly told us, "Well they should, because you are definitely in labor and we need to get this baby out now."
Then the whirlwind started. Everything happened so fast, I didn't even have time to call my parents or brother, and Paul barely had time to let his dad know we wouldn't be coming home that night. They whirled me into the OR and put in my epidural. You see, Teddy's position was fine until about 2 weeks prior, when he turned transverse, or sideways. This is definitely not a safe birthing position, and I had been hoping against hope to have a VBAC, but it was simply not in the cards, for this little guy. Every step of the way during the pregnancy, Teddy made his own path, and this was no different.
They tied me down to the gurney and pumped me full of meds. They put on all sorts of monitors and put up the sheet across my chest so I couldn't see them rummaging around in my innards. Paul came to my side all dressed up in the required OR blue suit and hair cap, and I felt excited and scared. It doesn't take long for them to slice in to where they need to go and within a few minutes they pulled him out. I heard his little cry while the pediatrician took him to get checked out, like they usually do. I could feel them tugging me around, doing whatever it is surgeons do, and asked after several minutes "What's going on? Where is he? Is he okay?" Paul looked worried, and asked if everything was okay. The PA who almost sent us home replied, "Yes, everything is okay!" But the doctor immediately shook his head and said, "No. No it's not."
Teddy was struggling to breathe - to push his diaphragm out and expand his lungs. Paul went over while they were giving him chest compressions, trying to get the rhythm of his diaphragm moving. During this time, the surgeons were tugging and pulling and felt like they were playing hockey with my abdomen. I actually got sick and had to vomit. Right at that moment the pediatrician brought him over to me so I could meet him. He was so beautiful- perfect and tiny. 7lbs, 6oz, 19 inches long. A light fringe of brown hair circling his head like an old man who has gone bald but just has the last remnants from ear to ear. Then they took him away. Away to the NICU where he would spend the next 2 days.
The doctors took a very long time to sew me back up. Long enough that another nurse came in and said they really needed the OR for the next mother. Paul and I were worried, but had faith that things were going to be okay. No one ever said that anything had gone wrong. They wheeled me into the recovery bay until I was cleared to go to my room. While in recovery, Paul got to go see Teddy in the NICU. It was terrifying. The tubes, the bandages over his eyes, his poor little arm encased in a splint so they could put a tiny IV in his tiny vein. A feeding tube down his mouth, a ventilator-type contraption wrapped around his head, helping push oxygen into his nose. Fucking terrifying. But alive. Our Teddy Bear.
I did not sleep a wink that night. Paul went in again before we got to the room at 3am. This time they had taken off the eye bandages and only the feeding tube remained. THANK GOD. But I didn't sleep. I just wanted to see him and hold him. Tell him that I was here and that I love him. I waited until 7am and finally begged the nurse to let me see him. It took like 20 minutes but they got a wheelchair over. When I transferred to the wheelchair I almost passed out. My head was swimming and I was very unsteady. They asked me if I had eaten and I looked at them and said, "No one offered anything!" They said there was a little kitchen with sandwiches, yogurt, and other bits to eat. Thanks, night nurse, for not telling us any of that! So I had to wait and eat a bit until I felt well enough (and shift exchange was over) to go see him.
And it was beautiful. Perfect. My Teddy. Another 24 hours and they wheeled him to our room where he stayed. The next day, 9/26, we were cleared to go home. Watching Logan meet his little brother was my favorite moment of my entire life. I felt complete. I felt like I was home - exactly where I was supposed to be. It was wonderful.
Today, exactly 2 years later, is another story. Where did my happy life go? Why am I still waking up without my little boy? How could this have happened to him? I think I will never, ever stop asking those questions. I know there's no reason. No why. No going back to change anything or warn our previous selves. We should have stayed up late last night, building and wrapping whatever toys we had bought for him; had trouble sleeping due to the excitement of such a wonderful gift of a day. We should be pissed that the rain ruined the party we had planned, and scrambled to figure something else out.
Instead it's too quiet. There's no joy today. Although we spent the morning looking at all the photos and videos of last year, remembering our favorite moments and laughing together. Paul and I did a brutal leg workout together. Then some beautiful friends of ours came over to return Teddy's crib, that another wonderful loss mom had converted into a bench. We wanted them to bring it today, to bring in a little happiness. It feels good to have it back here, where it belongs. Teddy's teeth marks are on each side, a reminder that he was here, that he made his mark.
The best part about today was that people all across this country were eating chocolate cupcakes, smashing them into their faces the way Teddy loved to do. We received so many pictures, texts, and phone calls. We played with Logan. We lit a candle on our own cupcakes and sang to him. I cried. I cried and cried. I'm crying right now. I miss him. He should be here eating his own cupcake.
Thank you to everyone who has reached out, or even just spared a thought for us today. Thank you for the smashed chocolate cupcakes. I am glad it is rainy and stormy. I would have been furious if it had been a beautiful fall day!
I love you, my precious egg. I miss you. I want to cuddle you and swing you around and make you laugh. I treasure every single moment I got to have with you, right from the time I knew I was pregnant (and I knew before the test even told me). You are, and will always be, my precious baby. My Teddy Bear. Our son. Happy birthday, my angel. Mommy loves you.
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