In the blink of an eye...
One year ago today, I was very pregnant but aside from my large belly and a proclivity to get tired (and hungry) a little more than usual I felt pretty much like my normal self. I was still walking the dog every morning before work, still working (more hours than ever, if I’m honest), still spending an hour or two at the gym each day… it was all just life as usual.
On Saturday night we had our Parisienne friends Salem and Elody over for dinner. Originally we planned to go out, but did a quick-change and instead I made my homemade pizza. It was a fun night, and they left around midnight. Hari and I picked up the house a bit, then went to bed to try and get a few hours sleep.
On Sunday morning Hari (as usual) got up before the crack of dawn to golf. The man can’t drag himself out of bed during the week, but for golf somehow he’s up at 5AM without a complaint. We’d been going through an unusual hot spell (temps in the upper 80s and low 90s) so the A/C was on, and I slept in until about 7:00. My alarm went off so I woke up and took Sydney on a short “poop loop” then went back inside to get ready to head to the gym. I didn’t want to eat a heavy breakfast, since I was headed to Body Combat, so I just grabbed an Odwalla “Super Food” smoothie for a light energy boost.
As I was getting dressed, I realized that I had been very negligent about taking photos where you could tell I was pregnant. I never really go out of my way to get in photos, and think we have maybe two “full body” photos of me during this time. I figured if I didn’t do it soon it wasn’t going to happen, so I stood in my sports bra and workout pants and took a couple of pictures in the bathroom mirror. They didn’t turn out great (there’s a giant flash), but at least you can see it is me, and my silhouette was certainly round! That done I headed off to the gym.
Combat was great, as usual. The instructor Jen is amazing. She’s a tiny ball of muscle, fury and off-beat humor – exactly what you need to get the blood pumping on a Sunday morning! And amazingly I was not the only pregnant woman in the class… there were three of us! Jeanine was due in a few months, and the other woman (can’t recall her name) was due a month or so later. I recall Jen admonishing us that no one was to give birth during class, and we all laughed at the thought. Class began and I threw myself into my workout with reckless abandon. JAB-JAB-PUNCH! UPPERCUTS! ROUNDHOUSE! JUMPKICK-SQUAT! My only concession was my heart-rate monitor… the doctor insisted I wear it and keep my heart rate under 140, which I reluctantly did.
After class I remember stopping and chatting with another member. Talking to her about pregnancy, and how lucky I’d been to not have to slow down. Hearing about her kids. And feeling strange talking about a life that I still really couldn’t imagine.
I left the gym and was driving to the pet store, as we were running low on cat food. I recall my stomach feeling a little odd, so I figured I’d call my friend Laura and ask her what it felt like when she was in labor. She’d had five children, so I figured she would be a good resource. WRONG! Her entire input was “when it starts it feels a little like cramps”. OK, that’s not how I felt, so I guess my stomach is just a little off.
After picking up cat food I headed home and was again amazed at the weather. It must have been 85º already. I decided that it was too hot to take the dog on the hike we had planned, so I texted Hari and told him to just come home after golf. No point in stressing the poor dog out – she hates the heat, and still had her winter coat so a hike was not in her best interest. That done I headed upstairs for a quick shower, then went to lay down for a few minutes until Hari got home from golf.
Around 11:00 or so Hari got home, and I definitely wasn’t feeling right. No cramps, no pain, just felt a little weird. I distinctly remember hearing Hari open a bag of potato chips, and feeling a burning rage – how could he eat potato chips when I felt like crap?!?!??! I had a brief moment of sanity, realizing that my reaction was disproportionate to Hari’s action, and decided that perhaps I shouldn’t rain my fury down upon him. Even though he deserved it. CHIPS. *humph*
I made it downstairs, and was beginning to feel very off. I ran to the bathroom, took care of business, then headed back to the sofa. I laid down, again feeling rather woozy, and Hari suggested that maybe last night’s dinner didn’t agree with me. There was no pain and nothing like cramps, so I figured maybe he was right. Hari went upstairs and grabbed a nice long leisurely shower. Shaved. Dressed in his nice clothes. And finally a few years later came back downstairs.
Meanwhile I kept having to run to the bathroom… and doing nothing. Over and over again. A small light came on in my head, and eventually Hari and I decided that maybe he should be timing my trips to the bathroom. Just in case. I didn’t think it was contractions, but really had no idea what to expect. I also asked him to take my bag (which had been packed and sitting in my closet for a couple of months) out to the car. His response was “What? Your bag?? Do you think it is today???” I wasn’t feeling great and remember sniping back at him that if it wasn’t “the day” we could always take the bag back out of the car.
Every time I had another “weird feeling” I shouted “NOW” as I ran to the bathroom to let Hari know to begin timing. At one point he started debating with me, asking if I was sure that I was feeling something. I managed to refrain from clubbing him with a rolling pin, and said that yes, I was quite sure that this was another one.
At this point I thought that maybe I was in labor. Maybe. Hari wanted to call the doctor, but I said no. The doctor had very clearly told us, every visit, that we were not to call until the contractions were 5 minutes apart for an hour. Hari did, however, very wisely call the hospital. You see, we were supposed to pre-register and hadn’t gotten around to it before.
We hadn’t gotten around to a lot of things. The “nursery” looked more like an explosion in a clothing factory – Hari’s closet had fallen apart a month earlier, and he’d never gotten around to putting anything away again. His work clothes were hanging, but everything else (sweaters, t-shirts, socks, underwear, hats, wire hangers from the drycleaners, shoes, tennis bags) was strewn all over the floor. No cute pictures were hanging on the walls. We hadn’t even ordered a crib. It was a disaster, but I’d decided early on that I could rage at Hari daily about how mad and sad I was that I couldn’t sit in a pretty nursery and think about the child that was coming, or I could give up and instead try to enjoy the husband that was with me now. I chose to give up on the pretty-nursery concept, and just kept the door closed so I wouldn’t have a daily reminder of the disaster that lurked on the other side.
But I digress. Back to “the day”
Hari got off the phone with the hospital, and I looked over to see him, sitting on the ottoman and looking very haggard. Like he’d suddenly realized something very overwhelming. He said he was going to call the doctor, but I again insisted that it was too soon. The contractions hadn’t been 5 minutes apart for an hour. I didn’t know how far apart they were, or how long it had been going on, but surely we weren’t there. And I really didn’t want to get to the hospital to be told I was in false labor. I remember Nora telling me how that happened to her, and how frustrating and humiliating it was to go in and not come out with a baby, and wanted to make sure that didn’t happen to me!
I didn’t realize was that my contractions had gone from 9 minutes apart to less than 5 minutes apart in under than an hour. What I did know was that I wanted to be teleported to the hospital – I didn’t want to have to get in a car, but I didn’t want to be home anymore either.
I knew that we were probably going to have to head out, so I remembered to feed the cat. I made up a dish of wet food, and went to put it on Seamus’ shelf when another one hit. I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees, shouting “NOW” again and waiting for the wave to pass. Poor Hari shouted “where are you?” to which I replied that I was on the dining room floor.
I think that was the last straw, as Hari made the declaration that I was to get in the car because he was not delivering this baby! He called the doctor (in spite of my continued protests) and was told by her answering service that the doctor would call us back within 15 minutes. He also called Camp BowWow, our doggy daycare facility, and left a message on their voicemail. I had spoken with the owners months in advance, and they promised that whenever we needed to drop Sydney off we could call – even if it was outside business hours. If someone was there they’d open for us. And sure enough they called us right back – they were ready and waiting for Miss Sydney!
We got in the car, I leaned the seat waaay back, and were on our way. I don’t remember much of the ride, because the contractions were coming hard and fast. I do recall being on 287 and thinking that it was really good that it was Sunday afternoon and not 5:00 on a weekday. And Hari being frustrated by some idiot who was driving 45 mph in the passing lane. And Hari’s repeated complaints that our doggy daycare returned the call but we still hadn’t heard back from my doctor!
An interminable time later (probably about 10 minutes) we pulled up in front of the doggy day care. Hari (literally) sprinted in with the dog and back out again, and we continued on to the hospital. As we pulled up in front of the ER a tall man was waiting there for me with a wheelchair. Hari ran around to open the door, and they both helped me into the chair. The man wheeled me inside and was handing me off to a nurse. Hari ran back in with my purse, which he handed to me, then sprinted back outside to go park the car. The nurse calmly, as if nothing big was happening, asked if I’d like to wait for my husband, to which I replied that she could take me straight upstairs – he would find me.
She directed my chair through an endless maze. Down one corridor, through some doors, another corridor, another turn, elevator, turn, corridor… I swear it felt like miles. I had another contraction along the way, but she didn’t act like it was a big deal so I just went with it. As we got into the Labor and Delivery department they asked me for my insurance card and ID, so I dug my wallet out of my purse and handed over my documentation. They made a copy, brought it back and I was introduced to Nurse Kathy who wheeled me into my room. She told me to get undressed and give her a “sample” (when you’re pregnant they want you to pee in a cup every 30 seconds – I have no idea why).
I went into the bathroom, and had another contraction. The nurse called from the room – forget the sample honey, let’s get you in here now! I managed to get out of my shorts and t-shirt and into the gown, and she helped me lay down on the bed. She went to examine me when my water broke and she informed me “You’re fully dilated. Don’t push. The doctor is on her way and will be here any moment.”
Now I know I’m in labor – no doubt any more! The contractions are coming every 90 seconds or so, Hari magically appeared at my right side, and the doctor flew in looking a bit frantic. Nurse Kathy is reminding me to just stay calm, she’s done this before and everything is fine. Then another nurse appeared at my side, and between contractions had me sign paperwork. I don’t know what I signed and frankly don’t know whose name I signed, but I made some sort of mark with a pen on a piece of paper.
My labor was incredibly fast, but I remember a few things distinctly:
Suddenly after one big push… it was over. Just like that. I looked over and saw that a crowd of people had magically appeared near the doorway, and they were all huddled around what I assumed was my baby. But I couldn’t see or hear anything. I was a little worried, then they brought him to me.
He was so tiny, with a cleft lip, and lots of dark brown hair, and as they brought him over and laid him on my stomach he opened his tiny pink lips, stuck his tongue out at me, and grasped my finger with his perfect little fingers. The emotion was so overwhelming I’ll never be able to describe it, but I felt a tear dripping down my cheek and one word came into my mind obliterating all else: Colin.
They finally explained to me that during delivery the cord had become wrapped around his neck, and while the baby was OK they’d have to keep him under observation for a while in the NICU. I knew it had to be done, and so reluctantly I let them take him.
Hari turned to me and asked, very gently, if I had any thoughts about a name. We’d discussed so many of them but none had ever sounded right. Our top five up until that day were: Noah (my pick), Sebastian (suggested by John Paul Peralta), Aidan (which Hari liked but I felt was too trendy), Liam (which we both liked), and Colin (coming in at a lagging #5). I looked at him, and calmly told him that our boy’s name was Colin. There really was no other option to me – the moment I saw him that was the only word in my head. Hari then sealed the deal by suggesting my maiden name, Mode, as a middle name. And so Colin Mode Sharma came into the world, arriving in a rush at 3:11PM on Sunday April 26, 2009.
To keep ourselves occupied we began calling and texting friends and family, telling them the news of our son’s arrival. I kept asking Hari over, and over, and over… are you sure he’s OK? It was killing me to not be able to see and hold our little guy. I so desperately wanted to just touch him, look at him… it was so hard. Hari went to go check on him, and came back with a report. Colin was the smallest baby in the nursery, and was also the most active. He was all wired up, but was wiggling around in spite of all that, garnering comments from passers-by. I smiled, thinking ‘that’s my little wiggle-worm.’
Finally around 7:00 they brought him back to me, and I couldn’t get enough of him. Colin. My son. Me… a mother. I don’t know exactly when or how it happened, but all my fears and doubts were gone, replaced by a calm certainty. There was nothing in the world that could separate me from this boy. Nothing that I wouldn’t do for him. And I could see the same in Hari’s eyes. The dawning realization for us both, that we were now so much more than a couple… we had a son. We were parents. In the blink of an eye, we had become a deeper, larger and more complete family than I could have ever imagined, and I don’t think either of us could possibly have been happier.
So now, on the first anniversary of his birth, I would like to thank Colin for bringing the most beautiful, rewarding, sleepless chaos into my life. Life BC (Before Colin) is a shadowy memory now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, little guy!
On Saturday night we had our Parisienne friends Salem and Elody over for dinner. Originally we planned to go out, but did a quick-change and instead I made my homemade pizza. It was a fun night, and they left around midnight. Hari and I picked up the house a bit, then went to bed to try and get a few hours sleep.
On Sunday morning Hari (as usual) got up before the crack of dawn to golf. The man can’t drag himself out of bed during the week, but for golf somehow he’s up at 5AM without a complaint. We’d been going through an unusual hot spell (temps in the upper 80s and low 90s) so the A/C was on, and I slept in until about 7:00. My alarm went off so I woke up and took Sydney on a short “poop loop” then went back inside to get ready to head to the gym. I didn’t want to eat a heavy breakfast, since I was headed to Body Combat, so I just grabbed an Odwalla “Super Food” smoothie for a light energy boost.
As I was getting dressed, I realized that I had been very negligent about taking photos where you could tell I was pregnant. I never really go out of my way to get in photos, and think we have maybe two “full body” photos of me during this time. I figured if I didn’t do it soon it wasn’t going to happen, so I stood in my sports bra and workout pants and took a couple of pictures in the bathroom mirror. They didn’t turn out great (there’s a giant flash), but at least you can see it is me, and my silhouette was certainly round! That done I headed off to the gym.
Combat was great, as usual. The instructor Jen is amazing. She’s a tiny ball of muscle, fury and off-beat humor – exactly what you need to get the blood pumping on a Sunday morning! And amazingly I was not the only pregnant woman in the class… there were three of us! Jeanine was due in a few months, and the other woman (can’t recall her name) was due a month or so later. I recall Jen admonishing us that no one was to give birth during class, and we all laughed at the thought. Class began and I threw myself into my workout with reckless abandon. JAB-JAB-PUNCH! UPPERCUTS! ROUNDHOUSE! JUMPKICK-SQUAT! My only concession was my heart-rate monitor… the doctor insisted I wear it and keep my heart rate under 140, which I reluctantly did.
After class I remember stopping and chatting with another member. Talking to her about pregnancy, and how lucky I’d been to not have to slow down. Hearing about her kids. And feeling strange talking about a life that I still really couldn’t imagine.
I left the gym and was driving to the pet store, as we were running low on cat food. I recall my stomach feeling a little odd, so I figured I’d call my friend Laura and ask her what it felt like when she was in labor. She’d had five children, so I figured she would be a good resource. WRONG! Her entire input was “when it starts it feels a little like cramps”. OK, that’s not how I felt, so I guess my stomach is just a little off.
After picking up cat food I headed home and was again amazed at the weather. It must have been 85º already. I decided that it was too hot to take the dog on the hike we had planned, so I texted Hari and told him to just come home after golf. No point in stressing the poor dog out – she hates the heat, and still had her winter coat so a hike was not in her best interest. That done I headed upstairs for a quick shower, then went to lay down for a few minutes until Hari got home from golf.
Around 11:00 or so Hari got home, and I definitely wasn’t feeling right. No cramps, no pain, just felt a little weird. I distinctly remember hearing Hari open a bag of potato chips, and feeling a burning rage – how could he eat potato chips when I felt like crap?!?!??! I had a brief moment of sanity, realizing that my reaction was disproportionate to Hari’s action, and decided that perhaps I shouldn’t rain my fury down upon him. Even though he deserved it. CHIPS. *humph*
I made it downstairs, and was beginning to feel very off. I ran to the bathroom, took care of business, then headed back to the sofa. I laid down, again feeling rather woozy, and Hari suggested that maybe last night’s dinner didn’t agree with me. There was no pain and nothing like cramps, so I figured maybe he was right. Hari went upstairs and grabbed a nice long leisurely shower. Shaved. Dressed in his nice clothes. And finally a few years later came back downstairs.
Meanwhile I kept having to run to the bathroom… and doing nothing. Over and over again. A small light came on in my head, and eventually Hari and I decided that maybe he should be timing my trips to the bathroom. Just in case. I didn’t think it was contractions, but really had no idea what to expect. I also asked him to take my bag (which had been packed and sitting in my closet for a couple of months) out to the car. His response was “What? Your bag?? Do you think it is today???” I wasn’t feeling great and remember sniping back at him that if it wasn’t “the day” we could always take the bag back out of the car.
Every time I had another “weird feeling” I shouted “NOW” as I ran to the bathroom to let Hari know to begin timing. At one point he started debating with me, asking if I was sure that I was feeling something. I managed to refrain from clubbing him with a rolling pin, and said that yes, I was quite sure that this was another one.
At this point I thought that maybe I was in labor. Maybe. Hari wanted to call the doctor, but I said no. The doctor had very clearly told us, every visit, that we were not to call until the contractions were 5 minutes apart for an hour. Hari did, however, very wisely call the hospital. You see, we were supposed to pre-register and hadn’t gotten around to it before.
We hadn’t gotten around to a lot of things. The “nursery” looked more like an explosion in a clothing factory – Hari’s closet had fallen apart a month earlier, and he’d never gotten around to putting anything away again. His work clothes were hanging, but everything else (sweaters, t-shirts, socks, underwear, hats, wire hangers from the drycleaners, shoes, tennis bags) was strewn all over the floor. No cute pictures were hanging on the walls. We hadn’t even ordered a crib. It was a disaster, but I’d decided early on that I could rage at Hari daily about how mad and sad I was that I couldn’t sit in a pretty nursery and think about the child that was coming, or I could give up and instead try to enjoy the husband that was with me now. I chose to give up on the pretty-nursery concept, and just kept the door closed so I wouldn’t have a daily reminder of the disaster that lurked on the other side.
But I digress. Back to “the day”
Hari got off the phone with the hospital, and I looked over to see him, sitting on the ottoman and looking very haggard. Like he’d suddenly realized something very overwhelming. He said he was going to call the doctor, but I again insisted that it was too soon. The contractions hadn’t been 5 minutes apart for an hour. I didn’t know how far apart they were, or how long it had been going on, but surely we weren’t there. And I really didn’t want to get to the hospital to be told I was in false labor. I remember Nora telling me how that happened to her, and how frustrating and humiliating it was to go in and not come out with a baby, and wanted to make sure that didn’t happen to me!
I didn’t realize was that my contractions had gone from 9 minutes apart to less than 5 minutes apart in under than an hour. What I did know was that I wanted to be teleported to the hospital – I didn’t want to have to get in a car, but I didn’t want to be home anymore either.
I knew that we were probably going to have to head out, so I remembered to feed the cat. I made up a dish of wet food, and went to put it on Seamus’ shelf when another one hit. I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees, shouting “NOW” again and waiting for the wave to pass. Poor Hari shouted “where are you?” to which I replied that I was on the dining room floor.
I think that was the last straw, as Hari made the declaration that I was to get in the car because he was not delivering this baby! He called the doctor (in spite of my continued protests) and was told by her answering service that the doctor would call us back within 15 minutes. He also called Camp BowWow, our doggy daycare facility, and left a message on their voicemail. I had spoken with the owners months in advance, and they promised that whenever we needed to drop Sydney off we could call – even if it was outside business hours. If someone was there they’d open for us. And sure enough they called us right back – they were ready and waiting for Miss Sydney!
We got in the car, I leaned the seat waaay back, and were on our way. I don’t remember much of the ride, because the contractions were coming hard and fast. I do recall being on 287 and thinking that it was really good that it was Sunday afternoon and not 5:00 on a weekday. And Hari being frustrated by some idiot who was driving 45 mph in the passing lane. And Hari’s repeated complaints that our doggy daycare returned the call but we still hadn’t heard back from my doctor!
An interminable time later (probably about 10 minutes) we pulled up in front of the doggy day care. Hari (literally) sprinted in with the dog and back out again, and we continued on to the hospital. As we pulled up in front of the ER a tall man was waiting there for me with a wheelchair. Hari ran around to open the door, and they both helped me into the chair. The man wheeled me inside and was handing me off to a nurse. Hari ran back in with my purse, which he handed to me, then sprinted back outside to go park the car. The nurse calmly, as if nothing big was happening, asked if I’d like to wait for my husband, to which I replied that she could take me straight upstairs – he would find me.
She directed my chair through an endless maze. Down one corridor, through some doors, another corridor, another turn, elevator, turn, corridor… I swear it felt like miles. I had another contraction along the way, but she didn’t act like it was a big deal so I just went with it. As we got into the Labor and Delivery department they asked me for my insurance card and ID, so I dug my wallet out of my purse and handed over my documentation. They made a copy, brought it back and I was introduced to Nurse Kathy who wheeled me into my room. She told me to get undressed and give her a “sample” (when you’re pregnant they want you to pee in a cup every 30 seconds – I have no idea why).
I went into the bathroom, and had another contraction. The nurse called from the room – forget the sample honey, let’s get you in here now! I managed to get out of my shorts and t-shirt and into the gown, and she helped me lay down on the bed. She went to examine me when my water broke and she informed me “You’re fully dilated. Don’t push. The doctor is on her way and will be here any moment.”
Now I know I’m in labor – no doubt any more! The contractions are coming every 90 seconds or so, Hari magically appeared at my right side, and the doctor flew in looking a bit frantic. Nurse Kathy is reminding me to just stay calm, she’s done this before and everything is fine. Then another nurse appeared at my side, and between contractions had me sign paperwork. I don’t know what I signed and frankly don’t know whose name I signed, but I made some sort of mark with a pen on a piece of paper.
My labor was incredibly fast, but I remember a few things distinctly:
- Hari turned on the TV and put on a golf tournament. I was horrified and told him to change the channel. He asked what I wanted to watch, and I told him to put on the NFL draft. It was day 2, so no big deal, but MUCH better than golf!!!
- As an intesnse contraction hit I told everyone “I don’t think this was a very good idea” although I knew it was too late to go back!
- Hari was trying to soothe me by patting my brow. But it was really, really annoying and I snapped at him to “stop petting me!”
- Hari, Nurse Kathy and Dr. H all started shouting at me to push-push-PUSH. But they were all shouting at once, and it was overwhelming so I yelled back “WOULD YOU ALL STOP YELLING AT ME?!?!” There was a momentary pause, after which I got calm, clear coaching. (Sometimes a girl’s just gotta take charge!)
- Hari putting an oxygen mask over my face. I couldn’t stand the feeling, and shook my head and told him to get it off. (I didn’t know, but the baby was in distress and they needed extra oxygen in me for the baby’s sake.) Hari removed the mask and then got in trouble with Nurse Kathy, so next thing I knew the mask was back on.
Suddenly after one big push… it was over. Just like that. I looked over and saw that a crowd of people had magically appeared near the doorway, and they were all huddled around what I assumed was my baby. But I couldn’t see or hear anything. I was a little worried, then they brought him to me.
He was so tiny, with a cleft lip, and lots of dark brown hair, and as they brought him over and laid him on my stomach he opened his tiny pink lips, stuck his tongue out at me, and grasped my finger with his perfect little fingers. The emotion was so overwhelming I’ll never be able to describe it, but I felt a tear dripping down my cheek and one word came into my mind obliterating all else: Colin.
They finally explained to me that during delivery the cord had become wrapped around his neck, and while the baby was OK they’d have to keep him under observation for a while in the NICU. I knew it had to be done, and so reluctantly I let them take him.
Hari turned to me and asked, very gently, if I had any thoughts about a name. We’d discussed so many of them but none had ever sounded right. Our top five up until that day were: Noah (my pick), Sebastian (suggested by John Paul Peralta), Aidan (which Hari liked but I felt was too trendy), Liam (which we both liked), and Colin (coming in at a lagging #5). I looked at him, and calmly told him that our boy’s name was Colin. There really was no other option to me – the moment I saw him that was the only word in my head. Hari then sealed the deal by suggesting my maiden name, Mode, as a middle name. And so Colin Mode Sharma came into the world, arriving in a rush at 3:11PM on Sunday April 26, 2009.
To keep ourselves occupied we began calling and texting friends and family, telling them the news of our son’s arrival. I kept asking Hari over, and over, and over… are you sure he’s OK? It was killing me to not be able to see and hold our little guy. I so desperately wanted to just touch him, look at him… it was so hard. Hari went to go check on him, and came back with a report. Colin was the smallest baby in the nursery, and was also the most active. He was all wired up, but was wiggling around in spite of all that, garnering comments from passers-by. I smiled, thinking ‘that’s my little wiggle-worm.’
So now, on the first anniversary of his birth, I would like to thank Colin for bringing the most beautiful, rewarding, sleepless chaos into my life. Life BC (Before Colin) is a shadowy memory now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, little guy!
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