In case you were wondering, no, Ash is not 10 days overdue. I presume this is common knowledge by now, but our beautiful son Oliver Neal Spitzer was born August 16, at 9:53pm! Here are the specs: Weight - 6 lbs 14 oz (a bruiser, by Spitzer standards); length - 19.5 inches; hair - plentiful, dark; disposition - placid. Much has happened in the last 9 days, so I'm afraid I'll just have to gloss the highlights. Labor came on on Monday around 2pm, with mild contractions. Just 2 hours later, they had ramped up considerably, and we were on our way to the hospital (compared to last time, when we labored at home for a good 8 hours before heading out!). When we arrived, we learned that things were well underway.
Then followed about 3 hours of exceedingly hard work, with only incremental progress. To speed things along, our midwife encouraged us to get in the shower. This was awkward at first, but within a few minutes it was wonderful. The hot water relaxed Ashley, made her seem almost serene, and seemed to restore her energy. And wouldn't you know, after about 15 minutes, her water broke and labor kicked into turbo mode. After an absurd interlude of trying to get ourselves out of the shower, with the nurses weirdly insisting on protecting my (Gabe's) modesty, Ash was pushing with a mighty effort. Another 30 minutes, and Oliver Neal was born.
Ash displayed, as I knew she would, incredible strength and determination that day. She was able to reach deep into her reservoirs for each contraction, well after any normal human being would have been reduced to rubble. It is an awesome thing to watch someone you know better than anyone show such a stunning side of herself. Once again, she did it with no drugs, no epidural. I was and am proud and inspired.
Then we hit one minor hiccup: one of Oliver's blood cultures came back positive, meaning he could potentially have a blood infection. These can be, as innumerable doctors and nurses told us, "very serious." So on the day we were to be discharged (Ashley's birthday, no less!) we were sent down to the neonatal intensive care unit for a battery of tests and treatments. It was a frightening moment, after believe that Oliver was healthy and thriving. To make a long and agonizing story short, this turned out to be a false positive -- the result of a contaminated sample, not an infection. Oliver is healthy as a horse, and we finally escaped on Friday.
That meant at last we could stage the long-anticipated meeting of Oliver and his older brother. This went blessedly smoothly. Ezra kissed him on the forehead first thing, and has continued to shower "baby brother" with kisses in the days since. He says "I love Oliver!" (though I suspect it may be as much to solicit our approving reactions as it is an expression of genuine feeling).
It doesn't hurt that we've had a gaggle of relatives (Noni, Mickey, Katy, Uncle Josh, etc.) and friends here, who have been wonderful about doting on Ezra at least as much as the baby ... and plying him with gifts of course. The real test will begin this weekend, when it's just the four of us and competition for scarce attention will begin.
Lots more to say, but not a lot of energy to say it right now. So we'll leave you with these pics and the promise of many more to follow. Thank you all for your good thoughts and warm words.
Love,
Gabe, Ash, Ez and Ollie
