A Door with a View: Nico's Birth

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April 19, 2012

I lay here on this mattress and just stared at the door. I refocus on it; the memories it brought are in the past now, but the memories are coming into view. This is my present with an unknown future. I concentrate harder. Looking at the yellow stained glass window, now amber in the low light. So many good things walked through that door. I can only hope to shut out the bad that has just recently occurred. And the agony it brings me when I think of the sadness it ushered out.

I use the time we brought our first child home to revive the good memories I have seen, the only thing that has slumbered in my mind tonight.

I remember looking back every second I could at the baby carrier that held our firstborn son as we drove home from the hospital.

My wife had to remind me, "Will you look forward. Please, we are driving, you know." Oh, I knew, alright. I wasn't going over 40mph or on the highway.

Finally, we had cargo in the mini-van we had bought to carry our twin daughters. That dream quickly scuttled in the few moments of our arrival at that same hospital where Nico was born. Now, we had something to celebrate. The homecoming of our first child after 8 long days. You see, Nico was premature. Born in the Leap Year of 2008 due to early complications Mimie was experiencing. Nico himself was scheduled for a c-section on March 5.

Before that day, Mimie had a scheduled stress test to be conducted on February 29. A stress test is where the doctor hooks mommy and baby up to a heart monitor. Mimie would sit in a lounge chair and count the baby's kicks. This lasted about a half hour.

Something that her previous specialist in charge of overseeing the twins never did.

This is good for early detection in case the baby is in distress. I had just gotten off from working the night shift that morning of the 29th, or usually, I would have gone with her to the appointment. I went to all her doctor's appointments. But I had to work later in the day, so I stayed behind to get some sleep. We talked about how we couldn't wait until March 5 and how worried we were in the days leading up to it right before I went to bed. After our talk, I kissed her goodbye and lay in bed.

I lay there and couldn't wait due to the excitement of seeing my newborn child. The possibilities. I thought about how I wish we were giving birth to him today, but then thought, "Well, it's Leap Year. How weird would it be to give birth today? Thankfully, we won't have a Leap year baby."

With that, I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

At around 2:30pm, Mimie came bursting through the bedroom door.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," almost singing in her voice. "What's going on? What's wrong?" I questioned, still groggy from my deep sleep.

They're taking the baby! They're taking the baby," she said with elation. "Who's taking the baby, aliens?" I said half-jokingly.

"No! The doctor," She exclaimed.

She went on to say that after the stress test, the doctor told Nico's amniotic fluid (that all babies float in before birth) was very low, and we had to go.

"He has to come out!" she said with glee. I leaped to my feet.

We weren't ready, and we hadn't planned. I ran around the house to get what we needed for the 3-4 night hospital stay. Suite case. Clothes. Baby clothes. Dogs. Wait, no, scratch that. Dogs stay home.

"I think I have everything!" I shout to Mimie."Wow," I think to myself," this is really happening. I'm gonna be a dad. We are going to be parents!"

As we checked into the hospital, we couldn't help but worry. The last time we were at this hospital, just a short one-and-a-half years ago, we lost the girls. This time, they placed us in a private room after check-in. We were so excited. But they haven't yet hooked up the baby's heart monitor to Mimie's very large pregnant stomach to hear and monitor the baby's heartbeat. This is how we discovered we lost our twins.

Finally, the nurse came into our room. "Are we ready to have a baby," she said happily. Mimie looked at her and smiled.

The nervousness was all over her face. "Let's do it," Mimie said.

The nurse pulls a machine over to Mimie's side of the bed. She's already in her hospital gown. All her IVs are connected. Contacts out glasses on. The nurse asks Mimie to sit forward as she pulls her hospital gown up and attaches the heartbeat indicator around her. As Mimie sat up, the nurse reached around her waist, forming a C with her arms, almost like a slow dance. The nurse fed one side of the belt from left to right behind Mimie's back. I held my breath. This was the exact moment in 2006 when we discovered our twin girls had died. This was a deja vu moment for me, and I was in anxiety hell. I stared intently at the monitor. I sucked in my cheeks. The anticipation was killing me.

I hear a sound," Is that the heartbeat?" I ask the nurse, taking my first breath as I talk. "Yes, that's your son," she said.

My emotions went up, and tears formed in my eyes. God, it is so hard to hold my composure. I excused myself and walked to our private restroom, where I broke down. The realization that we would soon have a baby in hand was overwhelming. Later that evening, at 8:45pm, Nico was born. Kinda fitting that 8:45pm was the same time we gave our girls back after spending our final moments with them in our hospital room.

Nico stayed in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for over a week. But he later came home healthy and crossed the threshold of our home through the front door. A welcome site to any family yearning for their child and a memory worth savoring in a time that seems so bleak now.

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Click here for Part III » A Door With a View


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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

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