Catching up

 

 I'm so behind on blogging and posting photos but there doesn't seem to be enough time in the day. Obviously. But here are some photos from the hospital. So, about three weeks ago! Enjoy.

 

Sam's Birth Story

**John's POV in italics below.  Beware...this is a long and wordy post.**

Well, Sam certainly arrived in a different fashion than Jack.  As you may remember, Jack was over a week overdue when my doctor decided to induce labor.  With this pregnancy, I was CONVINCED that Sam would be late as well. So convinced that I had scheduled a bunch of things that I had to do up until my exact due date.  And then I still had things that following week which I told people I would "almost definitely" be able to attend.  I put off running last minute errands because I figured I had plenty of time.  At exactly 39 weeks (Tuesday the 12th) I wearily put sick Jack to bed as usual and went about my business.  Watched a little TV, browsed the internet, and headed to bed.  

(I want to say for the record that I wasn’t buying into this whole late to the party again prognostication. She was carrying a little lower and then there was Grammy using her West Virginia sixth sense to predict an early birth. However, I wasn’t more prepared because of my hunch. This probably makes me appear as a bit more negligent father-to-be. I thought the baby might be early, but was still phoning in the preparations. Look, fantasy football lineups aren’t going to submit themselves.)

As had been the case the past couple of weeks with our sick toddler, John had to get up a few times early in the night to deal with a restless Jack.  Around 1:00 am when John was climbing back into bed, I woke to a weird sensation.  I figured that maybe I was starting to lose my mucus plug (sorry, gross word) but took comfort in knowing that it can still take days or even more than a week to start labor.  But when I got up to go to the bathroom I realized that my pajama pants were soaked.  I felt the bedsheets in the darkness and realized, hmmm, they were wet too.  But, I thought, it was not possible that my water had broken.  Not this early.  So I went to the bathroom to check it out and realized, damn, my water MUST have broken.  I changed and thought, I'll just go back to bed and wait until morning to tell John because I want him to get some sleep.  I knew for sure that once I told him he'd be wide awake because, duh.  Have you ever seen any movies?  Water breaking!  Excitement!  Craziness!

(Movies don’t cover “mucus plugs.” “Water breaking” absolutely. “Mucus plug” no. Just sounds like something you google, and then go back to sleep. Especially with the amount of sleep Jack had been allowing us to get that week.)

Well, turns out that I once I cleared my head, I realized that of course I had to tell him and that we should probably head to the hospital.  The minute I told John he jolted upright with a "what?!" and it was on.  I decided to take one last shower and pack up my hospital bag.  Once I was almost done, John remembered that maybe he should also pack some things.  "Yes sweetie".  Luckily my sister was staying at our house so with one quick knock on her door, we told her we were headed to the hospital and good luck with our sick toddler.  1:30am and we were on the road!  It seems there is not much traffic to downtown at that time and we did the normally 35 minute drive in 15 minutes.

(I don’t think I’ve properly yelled at Lisa about this internal debate of not telling me that her water had broken. Of course you tell your husband. Standing rule for pregnant ladies out there: If your water breaks, at the very least, text your husband and let him know. Also, I can’t believe we avoided classic LA traffic for both births. We rolled the dice on going with a downtown doctor in a city known for its irrepressible automotive congestion. There are so many worse case scenarios lurking between the valley and downtown LA. I’d say 80% involve being stuck in traffic. Well timed, baby boy.)

Once we arrived I insisted that John not drop me off at the ER entrance and that we both park at the parking garage and walk to the door.  I figured that I wasn't in labor so might as well walk around and try to kickstart it before I got strapped down to a bed.  The parking garage is a bit of a hike but, like I said, it's not like I was impaired in any way.  Well, the night security guard who was driving around doing his rounds disagreed.  He offered us a ride and we took it because who wants a rent-a-cop judging your choices?  Once we were up in Labor and Delivery we were escorted to a triage room where they checked to make sure my water had actually broken.  Yup, positive.  So the nurse checked with my doctor and the doc said she'd like to wait and see if natural labor would start without using drugs.  So around 3am we were taken to our luxurious labor and delivery room and told that we were waiting until 6am to start the pitocin.

(The appearance of the security guard and his chariot did have this guardian angel feel to it. Until we took a quick left, a quick right and we were there. Pretty anti-climactic. I’m still more in awe of the whole dodging traffic thing. Also, the labor and delivery room is grand and lovely. So much space. A nice long couch. I went to sleep almost immediately. Would the noble thing have been to stay up and keep my wife company? Absolutely. But I learned from Jack’s birth when we failed to nap. It’s a mistake. On top of that, I was taking advantage of the long luxurious couch, before we got shipped to the post-partum dungeon that awaited us and that godforsaken cot that proud fathers have to splay out on.)

Guess what happened in those 3 hours?  Yup, nothing.  Well, the sun came up and the view was quite lovely with the sun hitting the mountains and the Hollywood sign.  After a failed IV attempt which left my hand pretty damn swollen and bruised, they started an IV in my arm and I was like "let's get this party started".  The nurse kept checking on me every hour to ask if I was feeling anything.  They always refer to a pain chart hung on the wall with funny little pained faces and descriptions 1 through 10.  For so long I remember thinking I was at about a 2 ("pain can be ignored").  I told her, well, I feel something but not enough to make me stop texting.  (I think I was texting my mom.  Nothing too frivolous.)  

(That failed IV attempt was not pretty. It’s no fun when the universal pain scale is being used for incidents outside of the world of labor. Knowing how much Lisa hates blood and needles, she really toughed that one out.)

Well, slowly they jacked up the pitocin drip.  They started at 1 ml and by the end we were at 14 ml.  Somehow between 6am and 4pm I went from a pain level of 2 to an 8 or 9.  It was a gradual build and then all of a sudden my contractions were about 90 seconds apart and painful as hell (duh).  I had learned my lesson with Jack and knew that it wasn't best to just lie on my back in bed waiting for pain.  So I alternated between standing, leaning over the bed, sitting in an upright chair, and sort of leaning on John.  My husband was amazing as usual.  Just as he was while I was delivering Jack, he was my rock.  Sure, he started off sleeping all morning on the couch while I played on my phone, but once the pain kicked in he was right with me, supporting me, massaging my back.  You know. All the stuff you'd expect from my awesome husband.  

(I do not regret that nap. At all.)

Around 4pm I decided to throw in the towel and ask for an epidural.  I figured I was already dilated to 7 and the pain was just too much for me.  I figured if I didn't get it then, there would be no way I'd have the strength or energy to push later.  So in came the super-friendly anesthesiologist who literally said three words to me the entire time.  After I tried to explain that the last epidural I had made me super super nauseous, caused vomiting, and made my blood pressure plummet, I think he tried to go a tad lighter.  Which was great because I didn't feel nauseous at all.  Slowly my lower half became numb and I was excited about the possibility of sweet relief.  And then the contractions kept coming and, damn, there was one isolated place where I felt every bit of pain that I had before.  My legs were fairly heavy and tingly but this one little spot around my uterus about the size of a baseball was in excruciating pain.  The nurse explained to me that sometimes people had "windows of pain" in spots that just couldn't be explained.  Or as John said in his delirium "window pains".  Haha.  The nurse asked me if I wanted to get rid of the pain by completely numbing my entire half.  I said, "heck yeah!"  I endured getting a giant needle in my spine to get rid of the pain so why would I want to be in the same amount of pain but stuck in a bed?  She warned me that the only downside would be that I might not be able to feel any progress at all.  I thought, who cares, and asked them to bring it on.  So they gave me another shot and...YES, amazing relief.  

(Window PANES. That’s what I was thinking when I said that. So yes, I was a little bit confused. And that window pane was a pain. Like taking a trip to Hawaii where you’re constantly on a conference call with some annoying dipshit from work. And by the way, our anesthesiologist who administered the epidural had such remarkable bedside manner. In that he made no remarks about anything. You couldn’t have made it up. When he checked in on us the next day, he said exactly 5 words to us: “Congratulations” twice and “How is your back?” And then he was gone. He was the Clint Eastwood of epidurals.)

Of course, with such a strong dose, I was completely paralyzed from the waist down.  Couldn't move my feet or legs.  So when they wanted me to turn and lay on my side to try to move the baby (who they thought was sunny side-up) it was quite a procedure.  I likened it to moving a whale which I think the nurse appreciated.  And so, then, there I was.  Lying on my side, one leg propped up on a table, with droopy eyelids that I could barely keep open.  I decided to rest/half-sleep (or the drugs decided that for me).  So as the sun set around 4 and 5pm I just laid in silence.  After the first hour, John and I wondered what our next step was.  What was going on?  We saw that my contractions were still coming fast and furious so I knew I must be making progress.  

(She slept through contractions. That was some serious shit Clint Eastwood gave her to close the window pane.)

After almost two hours with the epidural, when the nurse finally came in we were like "sooo...what's happening?"  I wanted her to check me because I knew I must be dilated close to 10.  She asked me if I felt like pushing.  I told her I couldn't feel a damn thing really but that I thought I had felt something.  She asked me if it was constant or just fleeting.  I told her it wasn't constant so she seemed to think it wasn't urgent and that it wasn't time yet.  The nurse (who, by the way, was just amazing and awesome), told me that the doctor didn't like to "check" this far along because it may cause infection.  But, she said, if I really wanted to be checked she could because she needed time to call the doctor to the hospital from her neighboring office building.  I had this gut feeling and I said, "yes, let's check it."  

So the nurse lifted up my gown and all I heard was "whoa! there's his head!"  She immediately shouted out into the hallway to get a nurse to help her.  Then she yelled, someone call Dr. Park!  Or get her partner who was just in the hospital!  She quickly asked me if I could push and I said "I can't push, I literally can't feel my legs or know when I'm pushing."  She said "It doesn't matter, here he is" as he squirmed his way out and she picked him up and placed little Sam on my chest.  Some nurse had run in and grabbed a towel and was trying to towel off Sam while she turned on the little warmer and newborn scale and everything.  

(Just like Jack’s delivery, I had been given instructions not to look below Lisa’s belt. I did pretty good when Jack was born, right up until the end, and then there’s really no where else to look, so I looked. This time there was no time to avert my gaze. I was getting in position to help Lisa push, and I saw the top of Sam’s head. That seems premature, I thought to myself. I think I switched sides, because the nurse wanted to be on the other side, and as I was trying to get as out of the way as I could get, I watched Sam just pull himself into the world. I’d say the nurse was mostly there to spot his dismount. In so many ways, all good, this kid has just snuck up on us.)

Three minutes later my doctor (and her partner actually) rushed in and said "what happened?!!"  I think she was absolutely shocked that it all went down so fast.  She didn't really have to do anything besides fix me up and tell me congratulations.  John and I were sort of in shock.  Suddenly we had a baby and I got to meet Sam without any pushing or effort whatsoever at the end.  It was awesome.  And he was adorable just resting on my chest.  I'll never forget that moment.

(I had gotten first contact with Jack when he was born, because the NICU nurses had snatched and grabbed him to clear him of any of the meconium that had been seeping into the amniotic fluid. Sam’s first resting spot was right on Lisa. Frankly, I think they were so unprepared, that it was the only spot he could have gone. But it worked out so perfectly. Everything did. Except for that pesky window pane.)

Introducing...

...Samuel Mathias Dietrick

Here he is.  Little Sammy decided to burst onto the scene a week early because he was so eager to meet us all.  As a reminder, here's Jack when he was born.  They look pretty darn similar.

Sam arrived on 11/13/13 at 6:06pm.  He weighed 7 pounds, 6 ounces and 20.25 inches.  Also almost identical to Jack's size.  He is adorable and perfect with a thick head of hair and 10 wrinkly fingers and 10 old man toes.  

The birth story is pretty funny so I'll have to type it up and post it soon.  In the mean time, here are some pics! 

literally about 30 seconds after giving birth...not a great picture of me but that's okay.  :)

daddy and son

The Birth Story (Part 2)

We left off with me writhing in pain from the cervidil and the pitocin, the labor-inducing drugs that had given me contractions for the past 8 hours....

But at 5:30 am, I decided to call the nurse and ask for an epidural. I didn’t want one but I slowly began to realize that, even if I suffered through and did it all “drug-free”, I wasn’t going to get a plaque on the wall congratulating me or anything. No nurse was going to applaud my efforts. So I caved and in came the anesthesiologist. Previously I had been scared to death at the idea of an epidural, but in the midst of all that contraction pain, I didn’t bat an eye. I remember the needle hurting but nothing like the contractions. Within minutes I was getting numb and thanking the doctor for being the “angel” of the hospital.

John’s POV: I didn’t have to do much insisting by 5:30am, so I guess I could have played my insistence card at the parking garage. I knew this was going to be the tough part for me: pain management. Because you’re watching your best friend, your closest ally, the love of your life go through the worst pain nature intends for a human being to endure, and pretty much all you can do is rub her back? It’s like bringing a squirt gun to a forest fire. I expected to feel helpless, and I did. I could get her a breakfast burrito when she was nauseous, grab the Maalox from the fridge when she had heartburn, soak a washcloth with cold water when she had a headache, but I’m pretty sure those tried and true techniques were going to come up a little short here. The epidural was as big a relief to me as it was to Lisa. Psychologically, that is. I’m sure physically it meant a lot more to her than it did to me.

Of course, what I had forgotten is that I have a history of bad reactions to pain meds like codeine and vicodin. I didn’t make the correlation but very soon after the epidural, it made me sick. My blood pressure dropped to a level that made the nurses very nervous. And I began to get nauseous. Nausea is one thing I am very familiar with so I knew it was real. I kept telling the nurse and John I felt super nauseous but no one was springing into action. Finally I was just like, “John, get me something to barf in.” He did and I vomited. And then vomited. And then took a break, and vomited some more. This went on for a few hours. I remember thinking though, I’ll take vomiting over the contraction pain any day. I will say that I wasn’t prepared for how “drugged out” I felt. I could barely keep my eyes open. I remember saying, how in the hell am I supposed to push a baby out? I can barely lift my head. In the middle of this time, my water broke while the nurse was checking me and I saw her hesitate. I asked her if there was meconium in the fluid and she looked surprised and said, “you’ve been doing your homework.” But, yes, there was meconium which meant that a NICU unit would be in the room when I delivered so they could clean out little Jack’s lungs with anything he could have swallowed.

John’s POV: This was the only time Lisa got some sleep from checking in at the hospital on. Maybe 10 minutes of snoring between vomiting. And by now, she had checked off a lot of items from the “how you know you’re giving birth” list. Mucus plug, gone. Water breaking, yup. Intense physical pain, hell yes. The meconium in the fluid was a little unsettling, but it was one of the main reasons they wanted us to come in Friday instead of after the weekend. So it wasn’t a curve ball. It was a threat we were well aware of. Also, by now, I think if the doctor had come in and said “C-section”, we would have handed her the scalpel and asked which number blade. Up until that point, if we had actually had a “birth plan”, it would have been a poster board with “NO C-SECTION” in giant red letters. But as we got closer, we just wanted him out and breathing and screaming and alive. Everything else, surgery-free, drug-free, hospital-free, seemed more about ego and pride. Our birth plan was a healthy baby. That’s it. Oh, but with a stealth bomber fly-by at the moment of his birth. Flown by Hannibal from the A-Team. After he single-handedly captured Osama Bin Laden. That’s it.

Eventually I felt like pushing. And I say that sort of blithely but, damn, I felt like PUSHING. And in breezed the doctor who calmly said, ‘yes, let’s push.’ So John grabbed a knee, the nurse grabbed the other knee, and I bared down. The doctor kept telling me to push as hard as I could and I wanted to scream “Look lady, I AM pushing as hard as I can!” I finally got the word that he was crowning and that was encouraging. Up until then John had maintained his very strict “eyes above the waist” rule but the thought of seeing his son born made him cheat I think. He didn’t tell me until afterwards but he watched little Jack be born. Once Jack was out he immediately let out a cry. It was music to my ears but I remember that it did sound super liquid-y. He was put on my chest, all slippery, for a minute and then he was whisked away to the corner to clean out his throat and lungs. John was immediately the perfect doting dad and stayed with him over in the corner. He bounced back to me to make sure I was doing okay as I delivered the placenta and got stitched up. It was all so super surreal, probably partly because I had so many drugs pumping through my system. The nurses finished their work on Jack and I remember John being tentative about touching him. I think I called out across the room, “it’s okay to touch him John, he’s ours.”

John’s POV: Hell yeah, I peeked. I tried at first to be respectful of Lisa’s wishes, but there wasn’t a curtain or anything. So avoiding the view was more effort than holding back Lisa’s leg. So I just watched the whole damn thing. There was the ‘Knocked Up’ moment where he crowned, and I started getting a little freaked out that I didn’t hear him crying. I thought I would have heard him cry at that point. But no one else seemed concerned. So I got un-concerned. Then after the next push, it seemed like he just spilled out onto the bed. I watch him get handed to Lisa, then whisked to the corner where the NICU nurses go to work. I don’t know where I’m supposed to be, stay with my crying wife? Go after my crying son? So I just kind of bounced back and forth. He’s ok, she’s ok, he’s ok, she’s ok, over and over. I’m sure I’m crying cause our OB asks me if I want to cut the umbilical cord, but takes a beat to make sure I’m ok. Of course I’m ok, it’s just kind of a big moment, you know? Cut the cord, tell Lisa the baby’s fine, go back over and see the NICU nurse hold up a little brown vial proudly to show how much poop they sucked out of Jack’s stomach. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be relieved by the reveal or more freaked out. I remember that. I remember Lisa suffering through the placenta extraction. And then I remember the warmer being on and Jack just sort of wobbling around in there in this wonderful soothing heat. I think then I got to hold him and take him to Lisa. But to be honest, I’m not 100% sure about any of that. Looking back, video documentation would have helped. However, it wouldn’t have been forgiven by the new mom. A peek, yes. A gawk, yes. Blatant staring, mouth agape, yes. But a video camera would have gotten me in trouble.

And that was it. 26 hours after checking into the hospital we had little Jack, a healthy and cute little boy. More adorable than we could have ever imagined.

The Birth Story (Part 1)

I figured it is about time to tell the story of Jack's birth. John has also chimed in here to tell his side of the story which varies a little bit from what I remember. Turns out we're both pretty...verbose...so I split it up into two parts. Enjoy!


It all started Friday, February 18th, exactly 41 weeks into my pregnancy. I had a doctor’s appointment that morning where my doctor wanted to check my amniotic fluid levels which had been slightly low earlier in the week. Knowing this, I had really taken it easy the previous few days and drank gallons of water every day. I was bummed that my tons of natural induction methods had all failed. I had walked for miles, eaten spicy foods, taken herbs, acupuncture, and a lot of other things. Nonetheless, for some reason I was confident that the doctor would send me home on Friday and that John and I would spend a great last weekend together. We had dinner reservations and plans. But, one look at my ultrasound and the doctor said that my fluid level was low and that my placenta looked “old”. Nothing like stating the obvious. So she said that we’d have to go check into the hospital. What? At that point it still didn’t seem real. She called the hospital and she came back and told us that they were a little busy so we should go get a bite to eat and come back in a few hours and check-in at noon.

John’s POV: We tried every natural inducement ol’ wives tale: THE salad from Caoti Café (an LA-specific inducement legend), eggplant parm, orange soda (Thanks, Anita), pickled cactus tacos. If Lisa had read about walking backwards with a bucket between her knees, I would have walked into the house to find her debating between plastic or metal. Pregnant women do not want to be induced medically. But it wouldn’t be the last time today where what we theoretically wanted got pushed aside to make way for the only thing we actually wanted, which was our healthy baby boy.

So off we went. We decided to head home to get the house in order and eat our last meal. Not surprisingly, my last meal at home was scrambled eggs. Seemed fitting. Then, with our bags packed, pillows in the trunk, we headed off to become parents. We parked in the parking lot (no pulling right up to the door in labor) and slowly walked into the hospital. It was sort of like checking into a hotel which was not what I had imagined. But things never turn out as planned.

John’s POV: TV fails us again. No rushing to the hospital while Lisa performs outdated Lamaze exercises to keep the baby from shooting out onto the floor of our Hyundai Santa Fe. No male orderly shoving Lisa into a wheelchair and racing her down the hall to the O.R. Our biggest drama was that the 5 got a little backed up where we didn’t expect it (Sigalert failing me when I needed it most), and we had to use the Glendale Freeway instead of the 110. Too bad. Lisa had stashed garbage bags and an old beach towel under the driver’s seat to save the upholstery of our still-kind-of-new car, and I thought such foresight should have been rewarded with actually being necessary. Oh, and for the record, Lisa refused to allow me to drop her off at the front door of the hospital. I picked my battle there, as I was saving up my insisting for the epidural.

We checked in and got settled in our big delivery room. I got into my hospital gown and plopped down in the bed. They strapped a fetal heartbeat monitor on my belly as well as a contraction monitor. Then they put in an IV which didn’t feel that good. Next up? A drug called “cervidil” which would be used to get my cervix all ready for delivering a baby. My cervix was no where close to going so the doctor thought this drug would be helpful before giving me the labor inducing drugs. So they put the cervidil in (a strip of paper that is placed against the cervix) and I was told to chill out for 12 hours. Oh, fun. 12 hours in a bed where I can’t really move that easily. I think I first felt what could be described as menstrual cramps and then things got painful. From around 9:30 pm to 2:00 am I was having contractions. And they didn’t feel good. And kept getting worse. At 2:00 am, they started the induction drug, pitocin, through my IV drip. Immediately the contractions got even worse. I guess no one can describe what it will feel like but, damn, it was as bad as I had thought. I wanted to stave off an epidural as long as possible so that left me writhing in bed for hours. Because I was so hooked up to so many things, it was hard to get in different positions to manage the pain. But John was there and he helped me immensely. He massaged my back and watched the monitor to tell me when a contraction was coming and when it was almost over.

John’s POV: We got a little cocky. 6 hours of pretty much no discomfort, we decided it would be cool to have visitors, so Lisa’s mom and sis stopped by with dinner. We ate, and talked and hung out like the heavy lifting was days away. Then we decided we should get some rest to prepare for the real deal, the pitocin, at 2 am. And of course, as soon as we lay down, the contractions began. And then we realized that we should have done the sleep thing a while ago, because that ship had sailed. Columbus-style. Like to the other side of the planet.

A few hours after checking into the hospital and before the real contractions started.

To be continued...

About the name...

So a funny thing happened when John and I got pregnant. We started talking about names (of course, the best part of having a baby) and we came to one conclusion. We both only liked one boy name. And, miraculously, we both liked the same one boy name. Boy names tend to be pretty pedestrian unless you're planning on giving birth to the next great NBA or NFL star. Dhani? Plaxico? D'Brickashaw? Seeing as how neither of us are purebred athletes, we thought we'd stay away from those. Although Donovan (a la McNabb) made a big push. So if we weren't going sporty we could go Hollywood. Would be appropriate since both of us live such a glamorous LA lifestyle. Pilot? Zuma? Bronx? No, that just would not do.

But, like I said, it wasn't really an issue because the one name both John and I liked was Jack. It's a strong simple name. A main character's name. A hero's name. That's why they use it for a lot of fictional TV and film characters. Jack Bauer. Jack Ryan. Jack Sparrow. Jack Dawson. Jack Shephard. Jack Kelly. (if you get that last one, you're awesome.) Plus Jack was John's grandfather's name and "Jack Dutch" is also John's nickname. So it was always Jack. From about week 5. Took some of the fun out of playing the name game for 9 months, but oh well. The one thing that gave me pause about Jack was that it was so popular. But I figured we didn't know any kids with that name so we were in the clear.

As for girls' names, we did have an awesome girl's name. One we really liked with a perfect middle name too. But I never thought we'd use it. We'll keep it though, just in case.

And about Jack's middle name... Nunzio. We had a couple more traditional middle names in the mix but, in the end, we decided they all made him sound like a blueblood Kennedy or something. So we wanted something different. On kind of a whim I suggested Nunzio. Now, it's a well known joke in my family that Nunzio is my grandpa's middle name and he HATES it. A lot. Which is of course why his kids call him Nunz. But while Grandpa hates it, we started to say "Jack Nunzio" out loud and thought it sounded kind of cool. I liked the idea of doing an Italian name because our last name is so German. And of course we could pay tribute to one of the greatest grandpas around. Also, loosely translated, Nunzio means God's messenger or the announcer which is pretty damn cool.

So, there it is. Jack Nunzio. We kept it a secret all those months but we told you not to build it up because it wouldn't be something groundbreaking. Hope you like it.

Introducing...

... Jack Nunzio Dietrick.

Born Saturday 2/19/11 and measuring 7 pounds, 9 ounces, and 19.75 inches. He is perfect in every way. Beautiful skin, good color, great hair. His dad's good looks and his mom's big ears, long fingers and toes.

There's the whole birth labor and delivery story to tell you but I'll save that for a time when I actually have two hands free. And, don't worry, I'll be sure to include John's POV on the experience. In the meantime, here's some snapshots. Excuse the quality...most of them were just on our iphones in a dark hospital room.