October 22, 2009 my first born, a daughter, entered this world. Alaise Noelle Vanderwater was greeted by her parents and grand parents (on both sides). She's a big baby, 20 inches, with a 14+ inch head, 8 lbs 13 ounces. Ju's labor went pretty well. The epidural did wonders for her. The delivery, on the other hand, was quite difficult, and the size of the baby required the doctor to make a bit of room for her to come down the canal via an episiotomy.
From dad's perspective, I'm actually doing pretty good at this point. I knew all of this was likely... did I mention the vacuum to get her out? no? well there was that too. But all seemed to go pretty well. Baby was healthy, I cut the cord, the doctors began the work of sewing Ju back up. I flitted back and forth from Alaise to Ju and back again, checking on both of my girls. Once she was sewn all back up, mom and daughter were introduced, grandparents came to join the fray and meet their new grand daughter. After a while of this we shooed everyone away, so that mom and baby could get some feeding in. It was at this point that my world started to shift yet again.
When you go to witness a child being born, you walk in expecting to see a miracle, what you don't expect is to find yourself in a situation asking for more miracles in that same night...
