Leviathan Odysseus Harty
This post will not follow my standard genre format. Still, it will be dedicated to my experience with my son, Leviathan Odysseus Harty's birth, and the incredible strength of my excellent wife. On June 22nd at 5:41 am, my son was born after my wife was in early labor from 9:30 am on June 21st and fifteen minutes of active labor on June 22nd. By far, this was the most incredible experience of my life! I was able to see the immense emotional and physical strength of my wife and be part of the magnificent experience that is childbirth. Everyone involved was terrific, from the nurses, midwife, doctors, and our doula. The quantity of information I've learned in the short period has been more than eye-opening; in fact, it has been genuinely life-changing. In this post, I'm going to go over the process of the first days, from his birth until we went home.
His birth was swift, pain-filled, and incredibly bloody. Once my wife began pushing, there was only a fifteen-minute period where my son remained in the womb. In her pushing, she remained in control, deeply breathing, without screaming, shedding no tears, and treating everyone with respect, maintaining the level of patience I admire and desire to have. However, I know she was in immense pain, a pain that I shall never feel, and am beyond thankful for that reality. On that day, I was able to witness two beautiful things seared into my memory and shall be until I perish. Witnessing my wife's strength and witnessing my son being brought into this world.
It began with driving to the hospital, which was a quick fifteen minutes from our home. Hearing my wife's deep breaths, her soft whimpers during contractions, and her fully returning to a normal state between the pain. There was no echo in the car, no music, no fans from the air conditioning. There was silence, save for her strength and endurance through it all. I know I spoke words of encouragement, but I also know that regardless of my words, she was the one with the strength and resilience. We had been up since 8:00 am, and it was 2:00 am the next morning during the drive. Neither of us had slept or even rested during that time, yet I was on the highest alert I have ever been in my life. The thought of meeting my son for the first time was so prevalent that my thoughts were overwhelmed, the thought of my wife being in pain competing with the thought of meeting my baby boy, and clamoring to reach the forefront. At the same time, I consciously attempted to violently shove both of them down in order to be present for her.
Arriving at the hospital was the first time I've seen my wife express sincere emotions regarding her pain. She was all but incapable of stepping out of the passenger side of our car. Thankfully, our doula, one of the most amazing women in the world, was there with us, arriving literally at the same time. I rushed to retrieve a wheelchair, deeply inhaling the mildly chilled early morning air, which smelled of the combination of exhaust from the nearby freeway and the sanitized air once the automatic doors opened to the hospital. I had the intense desire to shed tears and cry in both excitement and emotional agony, excitement to meet my son and agony from seeing the love of my life in such pain. When I returned to the car, the sound of the creaking metal of the wheelchair bouncing along the asphalt fled from my ears when I saw our doula holding my wife up, pulling her in close and earnestly praying to God. That was the first moment I finally understood the phrase "sucking the tears back." It was a beautiful moment and a glorious reminder of how my wife and I got to this point.
Assisting my wife into the wheelchair, we rushed into the hospital, ironically enough, my wife and I had no clue as to where we were supposed to go. We had to look at the map of the hospital, and once again, ironically enough, it was our doula who led the way since I remained overwhelmed and focused on my wife. We rode the elevator up to the third floor. The sensation of our innards slightly sinking as we were mechanically lifted. The doors slowly opened, and we walked down the hallway to the left, the hallway that, in that moment, felt longer than any other. Once within the room, I handed over my driver's license to gain access, realizing that all our possessions remained in our vehicle. So, we had to share my wife's birth date in order to get in, only for me to realize I have a copy of her medical card in my wallet. Before she went in, I tenderly kissed her on the forehead, told her I loved her, and that she was amazing. Once these events took place, I rushed back to our car.
The Wednesday before our son's birth, I had injured my knee at work and hadn't lifted anything over fifteen pounds since then, but this was irrelevant once I got to our car. The bags' combined weight was roughly thirty pounds, and I all but ran in my slides back to the waiting room in the delivery area. After what felt like a painfully long wait, our doula and I were led back toward my wife. What I experienced and what actually happened were so far removed from each other, the shock was stronger than chugging a handful of energy drinks and being plunged into an ice bath. My wife was lying there, looking at me and smiling between her contractions. However, this would be one of the last times she would have her eyes open for the remainder of the process.
After signing a myriad of paperwork, accepting and denying certain aspects of the post-birth, and sharing that we had no desire for any pain killers, the process began. Our doula and I assisted in attempting to calm my wife and prepare her for the immense pushing that would take place. The following process triggered a series of emotions and sensations that I was unprepared for.
With each consecutive push, my heart sank as my wife's pain grew, but to look and see my son's head slowly appear was almost enough to alleviate my heart. However, looking back upon her, while she squeezed my hand, her hand being so much smaller than mine, all I saw was my beautiful and powerful wife in utter agony. There was a moment, between pushes, that my wife made a joke, which I was simultaneously thinking about. We watch and enjoy an Anime called Naruto, and in the second portion, called Naruto Shippuden, there is an antagonist called Pain, who uses a move called the Almighty Push. During her pregnancy, we would joke that I would say that as she pushed and during the delivery, she brought it up in sarcasm. Her comment alleviated much of my emotions, reminding me of who she is and how amazing God has made her.
The next moments made my heart sink, my stomach shrivel, and my mind race. She began shedding blood, or instead leaking it, like a hose which, in my youth, during the hottest of summer days, my siblings and I would drink from. The faucet was turned on halfway, and the fluid was flowing, being caught in a bag, a container with measuring lines on it, in order to see the quantity of fluid left in her body. In the end, the total volume was 910 milliliters.
As my son's head left her body, our midwife told me to reach down for his chest and swiftly pull him out. I was the one to deliver our baby boy and bring him to my wife, his mother's chest. His cries were less of a cry and more of a shout, proclaiming his introduction into the world. It was not one of those ear-piercing sounds, the ones that I've heard with other newborns, but more of a howl until his mother held him close. The smell was that oddly fresh but also sour and sweet smell. My hands were covered in the same thick white fluid that coated his body. The only words I was able to say, while holding back more tears, were "Hey there. It's nice to meet you." My voice quivering, hands and body, like a slowly decaying stone statue frozen in place as if having been there for thousands of years. My wife held him close, and I leaned down, simply listening to his voice and looking at him.
What happened next is what truly instilled in me a fear that I had never felt before. There was immense tearing within my wife, and blood began leaking at a pace which was as if the faucet went from half turned to fully turned. However, the midwife was swift with her stitching and use of lidocaine. It only took about ten minutes, but it felt as though an eternity had passed. Thankfully, my wife was fine, and the sight of the immense blood and the container catching the blood went unseen by her.
Over the next two days, we remained in the hospital, she was monitored due to the blood loss, and I took care of our baby as my wife learned how to feed him. I also took care of her, bringing her food, helping her to the bathroom, and assisting in her pain relief as much as I possibly could.
There is much more to be said, but I admit that those moments are the ones I will keep in my heart and only share with my wife. They were a type of intimate that went beyond anything physical we had shared before. We spent two sleepless days taking care of our baby while tenderly speaking with each other, softly kissing each other's hands, and learning about taking care of our newborn baby.
This was how Leviathan Odysseus Harty was brought into this world. Praise the Lord.
