Our biggest concern now is whether or not we should be nervous about how soon our son could take over the world if he had a superpower like that.
We were getting closer and closer to the due date. The doctors decided it would be best to induce my wife instead of waiting for her water to break. We settled on exactly one week early, 39 weeks, for the induction. I started prepping myself mentally...but not my wife. She had been ready since she was 3. We went back to the doctor for one last checkup the week before her scheduled induction date to make sure everything was still on track. The ultrasound showed that our little boy, despite his superpowers, was indeed a little boy. He was in the 5th percentile for his size, which means 95% of babies at his age (38 weeks) are bigger than him.
Huh? Have you seen his father? How is this kid in the 5th percentile? Oh yeah...have you seen his mother? Makes sense now. Anyways the doctor says "alright, let's get you upstairs and get started with the delivery". Remember, this is one week BEFORE the scheduled induction.
What? Go upstairs? What's upstairs? Delivery? Is there a package for us there or something?
"The baby is coming out today. He's too small to stay in the womb, he might be stillborn if we leave him another week, especially with his omphalocele situation."
Well, there goes our grocery shopping date tonight. I was really looking forward to getting a new gallon of milk...
So we make our way upstairs...checking once again to make sure it's not April Fools Day. The baby was coming tonight, two weeks early, whether we liked it or not. We get settled in our room for the night.
What? The father doesn't get a remote controlled bed too?
There was a lot of crying and screaming. Then the nurse finally got a pillow for me and I was able to settle down and get some sleep. Kind of. The couch was specifically designed to make any individual as uncomfortable as possible. I applaud the designers for doing such a great job.
My wife, on the other hand, was drugged and out cold the whole night. Lucky her.
Then the next morning, after around 3 hours of very interrupted sleep, I wake up and see my wife on her side, facing away from me, sleeping comfortably.
The baby came?! They didn't wake me up for the birth?!
I stumble over and ask my wife where the baby is. She points to her tummy. Oh.
Right on cue, the nurse comes in and beams at us. "Are you ready?!" It's 6:00 in the morning. No I'm not ready.
I'd like my turn in the bed, please.
We wheel my wife into the delivery room and 3 hours later...
this happens.
We had been warned the omphalocele would look pretty gross when the baby first came out. So we were prepared for that. It was gross. His liver just hanging out on his stomach in an ugly green membrane. I'll spare you the picture. (You can email me if you really want to see it...)
But giving birth is gross anyways. We were just happy to see our boy screaming and crying and alive. The nurses did a quick look over. His lungs were great, his heart was beating great, he had 20 digits and the right amount of body parts. Just that...monstrosity...on his stomach...I still can't get over it.
My wife got to hold him for a few minutes, while I stood over in the corner trying to process what had just happened and debating with myself if I should fake passing out just so I could get a nice nap in that super comfortable remote controlled bed...
Then, he was whisked away to the NICU for more evaluation and to determine a plan of action with surgery and stuff. We had done everything we could up to this point, but now everything was out of our hands. Like it was ever in our hands... Time to hand him over to the professionals.
Probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do...trust a bunch of people I've never met to take care of my firstborn...
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