Born March 29, at 6:26 p.m. PST.

Both momma and kiddo are great, in good health and ready for a nap.

5:30 p.m.

Things are looking good. Either the anesthesiologist last time missed the nerves, or something was drastically wrong, because for the past three hours Kristin hasn’t felt a darn thing. The pitocin is working well and the contractions are regular and Kristin doesn’t feel them. In-fact she keeps trying to scratch her leg, but can’t feel if she’s hitting the itch.

Were about stage 1-2 and the nurse expects to have him in arms in the next half hour.

Cool thing that we found out is that the hospital recently changed their policy that as soon as the baby is delivered, he’ll go straight on Kristin’s chest for a minimum of an hour before they even clean him up. The last time, mostly because of the trauma from the whol ordeal, she didn’t really want anything to do with Maddy until almost the next day or later that evening.

You’re almost home, buddy! Keep on truckin!

After Kristin originally posted that we’d be live-blogging the birth of our new boy, I think I failed to call out which posts were in-fact live blogs. From now on, look for updates by the heading above and the corresponding update #.

It’s 2:30 on Saturday, and here are the updates.

For the past week, we’ve been putting off induction, even at the suggestion of our OB, mostly because of the fear of everything that happened to Kristin in the last delivery. Neither one of us wanted to “force” our child into the world, and as my father mentioned to me, “fully baked is better than half-baked.”

But, in our reluctance to induce, we’ve been anxiously waiting the signs and symptoms of labor. Finally, a week overdue, we saw the first indications that things might be happening last night. So around 11:30, Kristin came to the hospital to verify what was going on, while I stayed with Maddy until the prognosis.

Around 4 a.m., Kristin was admitted into the Labor and Delivery Ward, and I coordinated for one of our AWESOME friends to come and watch the girl. At 7 this morning, we were sitting around 4cm in dilation, with a probable high tear in the bag of waters.

A few hours later, 5cm, and come 2pm, a solid 6cm of dilation. She was on a dose of Pitocin for a while prior to the epidural, but stopped it when she was screaming in pain. Now that the epidural is in, they’ve re-upped the pitocin to get a steady cycle of the contractions.

Currently the baby is turned a little to the side, so they’ve propped her up with some pillows to encourage the baby to roll over, and she’s holding the elephant condom-like spit-up basin in case she tosses her Jello.

One thing to note.

Last time, I spoke about the need to check the hands of the nurses before they go shoving their fingers inside to check dilation. That’s because we had a nurse, who I affectionately called “man hands” who made my catcher’s mitts look like a child’s mittens.

Well, the same can be said of a nurse with tiny hands. Not only does she have to force her hand further back, she might have to go elbow’s-deep to find her target.

More to come…

I’ve never thought myself to be a patient person, but it’s the one word that my wife most frequently uses to describe me. I really don’t know why, because just like everyone else, I HATE waiting for just about anything.

I am the consummate instant gratification fan, always seeking the fastest meal, source of information (Google), entertainment (Netflix), or even the fastest way to work. I guess that explains my driving record. But, waiting for the birth of a child isn’t just frustrating because we’re impatient, it’s also heart breaking.

For the past two weeks, we’ve been in the “Any day now” mode as we not only approached, but passed our due dates. With every day that passed, we both grew more and more frustrated with our son’s unwillingness to come out. Even our daughter comes up to my wife’s belly and asks, “Why doesn’t my brother want to meet me yet?”

I called my folks to let them know the news last week and my dad tells me, “Better fully baked than half baked.”

I wanted to reply, “Maybe, but I like raw cookie dough and the softer the cookie, the better.” This isn’t like a soufflé not setting, or like having to wait for thanksgiving dinner. And, as much as I want to sit and hold my son, take him out and about with his big sister, I have to wait until he’s good and ready.

When you complicate waiting for anything with physical pain, there seems to be some sort of sympathetic response – driving your fight or flight reaction. However, in the case of pregnancy, there is no flight, no way to dodge the fact that pain or discomfort are truisms in this paradigm. And if you fight it, you’re only going to put yourself, and possibly the baby, at risk. Sure, there are medications, epidurals and Lamaze. But most of those are temporary treatments to the fact that there was pain to begin with.

As a husband father, my instinct is to protect the ones I love. But, how can I protect my wife from pain, when it’s part of the process? As I sit here and watch the contractions come over her body, I’m torn by the helplessness I know she feels, and the fact that there’s nothing I can do. Nothing, except hold her hand, give her a head rub, and wait until he’s here.

Just hurry up already, kid!

For anyone who hasn’t heard, lives under a rock or doesn’t have a Facebook account, this blog has now led to the creation of a new book, called Poop Flies at 35 m.p.h: The Expectant Dude’s Participation Guide.

After I decided to live blog our delivery, my mom suggested that I make a book about our whole first year journey. But, I think that there’s so much more that dad’s need to know.

There is a big gap in the education tools for fathers, especially for those that want to be involved in more than just the baby making. Most of the books I bought or checked out were written by doctors, psychologists or women. Basically, they were too clinical and didn’t relate to me.

Alternatively, the other books talked to the father like he was some kind of buffoon that didn’t have any place in child rearing and all decisions were to be left to the mother. In-fact the bulk of mainstream advice pretty much tells dad to keep his head down and try to stay off of mom’s shit list and how to survive having kids.

This infuriated me, because what I wanted was a real day-in-the life look at what’s to come in the next nine months and how I could help.

I’ve been amazed how the mainstream advice has taken hold in so many dads, and how many of them seem to be “along for the ride” instead of steering the ship. In the years after having my own children, I’ve watched in amazement at the number of dads who have said that they wanted to participate more, but either didn’t feel like they had a place, or knew how to engage.

So, I set out to write this book, not as another “survival guide,” but something that was written as a “participation guide.”

Having a baby is a true undertaking, and you can’t just survive it, you have to embrace it. This is especially true if you’re married or plan on being an active father. If you try to skate by and let momma make the decisions or care for the kiddo, you’re in for an uncomfortable ride. You have to be an active participant, which starts by being part of the decision making process today.

I have two final chapters to write, and a glossary of over 100 terms, but as soon as it’s ready you’ll be able to purchase it on Amazon.

In the mean time, enjoy the reading and be on the lookout for updates on our next delivery!