Your birthday

Dear Cash,

You turn 6 weeks old tomorrow.  I can't believe that it has been that long since I became your father.  This time has flown by like nothing I've ever known.  With learning how to be a father, working, and trying to spend time with you, your mom, and your nana, I haven't had time to write anything in here for quite sometime.

I want to tell you about the day you were born.

You were overdue.  Not too late, but you were getting too big.  We were worried that your head was going to be too big for your mom to be able to deliver you naturally.  Papa and Nana flew all the way over to Korea to be able to see you in person as soon as possible.  On Monday, May 21st (your cousin Cooper's birthday) we packed 엄마's bag, got in the car and I drove to the birthing center.  We were so ready to have you join us.  The doctor put your mom on an iv drip that helped her start her labor.  Pretty soon, the labor started.  We were so excited the first time the labor started.  We were ready to spend hours waiting for you to come and the pain wasn't nearly as bad as we thought it would be.  When the doctor gave his first examination, she was already beginning dilating.  She was only at 1cm but it was something!  However, as the hours wore on and on, the contractions didn't seem to change.  The doctor came back and said you hadn't moved down at all and that your mom was still at 1 cm.  After 12 hours of contractions, there was no change.  But, that can happen sometimes.  So, 엄마 tried to send me home, but I refused.  Instead, I laid down on a tiny little mattress that was about 1.5 feet too short for me and I let my legs dangle off the end and slept with one eye open.  I was so ready for your mom to tell me that the contractions had changed and that she thought she was ready to push.  However, the next morning at 6am, the nurses came in and checked on your mom.  Nothing had changed.  We had now been in the hospital for 19 hours and she was still only at 1cm.  When the doctor came at around 10am, he told us the possibility of your head being too big to move down was pretty high and we could keep waiting if we wanted to.  However, we were tired of waiting and if your head was too big, we would eventually have to have surgery.  So, we decided to go in and get you out via c-section.

At 11:30, Uncle Nick took Nana and Papa out for lunch with a promise of bringing me something to eat.  We had scheduled the surgery for 12:30.  However, at 12:10 the nurses started preparing your mother for surgery saying that they were going to operate at 12:15 instead, Nana and Papa hadn't come back yet!  So, when your mom was in getting ready, I was left outside pacing back and forth.  Finally, at 12:12 they showed up and I told them that your mom was getting ready for a 12:15 operation.  I sat on the sofa waiting with Nana and Papa and at 12:18 Nana's eyes got really big and she waved at me to stand up.  With heart in my throat I jumped up and looked through the doors and watched as the nurse brought out a bundle of blankets so thick that it looked like a sleeping bag, but I knew what that meant.  I can never forget how I felt as I watched her come and hold you out so that I could hold you in my arms and look down at your wrinkly, waxy, orange face.  You were screaming so hard.  I couldn't say anything, I could just look at you and get my heart back into my chest.  With my arms around you, and your lungs developing VERY well, I finally found my voice.  "Cameron" I said.  "Cameron, it's me, your daddy."  Instantly, you stopped crying.  It was magical.  You knew my voice from the times I talked to you when you were inside your mommy.  I wanted to keep holding you, but you needed a shot so that you could breastfeed and they needed to weigh you and measure you.

Now, I was lost.  I wanted to storm into that back room and hold you more, I wanted to go see your mommy, I could do neither.  So, instead I sat back down on the sofa, looked at Nana and Papa as Uncle Nick put some KFC into my hand and I began to eat my lunch.  I don't remember what it tasted like, it didn't matter, I still had the sharp, sour, beautiful smell of my son in my mouth, I could hear you wailing in discomfort as you dealt with the fact that you were ripped away from everything you knew, taken from the only two people you ever had a connection with and then poked and scrubbed and who knows what else.  After pacing in and out of the labor rooms and trying to get a glimpse of your mom through the operating room doors, I finally got to see your mom.  The doctor and three other guys carried your mom on a sheet through the swinging doors and into the recovery room.  They seemed surprised to see me but told me I can see her.

As soon as they laid her down, I was at her side.  She was put under complete anesthesia instead of a local, so she was still asleep.  However, after about a minute she began waking up.  I grabbed her hand and the first thing I could say was "he's beautiful.  Baby, he's beautiful."  When your mom could get some words together, she asked me, "did you get to hold him?" "yes," I said.  "Is he pretty?" she queried, "He's beautiful, he has a low voice and he's gorgeous."  Because of the anesthesia, she asked me several questions over and over again but the most important question was "did you get to hold him?"  I was so happy that I was able to hold you, even if it was just a little bit. About 30 minutes later your mom was awake enough that they could bring you in so she could see you for the first time.  The look on her face was another thing I'm never going to forget.  She was still drugged, her breath smelled like anesthesia, and her smile and eyes were trying to fight against that numbness left in her.  But she was delighted to see you.  If you don't know, your mother has so much love in her.  All that love was throwing itself at you through that drugged visage. She kept repeating the same thing over and over again.

"he's beautiful, so beautiful, our son is so beautiful"