And so the journey REALLY begins. . . . .

Family, friends. If you are reading this and are thinking, "Wait. She has time to write a blog entry, but not call me/email me/text me/facebook me back?", please consider this as my gift to you - a one stop shop to get up to speed on my life, so that when I DO call/email/text/facebook you back in between feedings and diaper changes, no time will be wasted and we can talk about all that is fabulous with YOU. See what I did there?

Welp, there you have it. Max Samuel Kaplan has made his entrance into this world a healthy, pink little human being. It was quite the journey getting him here safe and sound, and since this is a place for you to check in on us, allow me to tell the story of how little MSK got here . . . .

If you have been keeping up with the blog, you know that about a month and a half ago, I began struggling with severe nosebleeds. A couple frantic trips to the ER led me to an ear-nose-throat doctor, who cauterized an area he believed to be the source of my problems. All returned to normal, until I hit 39 weeks.
In the middle of the night, I was awoken to the taste of my own blood (oh right, now would be a good time to put down your fork). After a few gulps and realizing what was happening, I jolted out of bed and ran to the sink to pinch to sh*t out of my nose. And it worked.... for about two hours, when the gusher would start again out of absolutely nowhere. After a sleepless night of staying up at the sink pinching, Josh had an all-day work meeting in town, and I had my 39 week OB appointment. Since I couldn't drive out of fear that another bleed would start as I hit 75 mph on the freeway, I spent my morning with my Mom, who accompanied me to the appointment.

Four gushers later, I was in the middle of describing these insatiable bleeds to my OB nurse, who stared at me with what appeared to be a look of confusion, perhaps doubt, maybe pity. It was during my nervous explanation to her about my bleeds that somebody up there took the reigns and prompted a bleed to start right then and there, in front of her. I bolted to the sink and pinched. The nurse hurriedly grabbed my OB and started to talk to her in that hush-hush way that makes you feel like somewhat of a sideshow. The OB Dr. and nurse came into the room and urged me to make an emergency appointment with my ENT to recauterize the area of concern, and have the ENT contact the office to let them know when would be the optimal time for me to push. Yes, PUSH.

 "....hhh...uh?"

"We'd like to deliver your baby tonight."

WHHHHAAAAATT?

Adrenaline and heaping dose of fear flushed throughout my entire body. I was not me. I was somebody else; a machine trying to acclamate to this information that I was absolutely NOT prepared for.

Numb, I met my mom in the lobby and told her we had to get to the ENT right away. Within 30 minutes, I was being seen by him, who, after draining out all the blood, recauterized me and ended up needing to pack my nose to prevent further chaos. About 10 minutes passed before I mustered up the courage to look in the mirror. Staring at the tube coming out of my left nostril and taped to my face, sinus goo dripping out of my eye, it was not quite the image I had dreamed about the past 9 months. After I informed my ENT that he had to get in touch with my OB, he left the room, took a seat at a desk about a yard away, and phoned my doctor. I listened.

"Yes, Dr., I just treated your patient Heidi Kaplan for her nosebleeds, and based on the severity of her bleeding, I do not recommend her bearing down. If she were to start to bleed during a birth of this type, well . . . . it'd be bad".

I closed my eyes and prayed for the room to stop spinning.

Straight back to my OB to commence and figure out the plan of action. My nurse brought me back into a room and informed me of the following:

Due to your nosebleeds, the fact that you have some excess amniotic fluid, and that the baby took a pooie inside of you, we're going to deliver you tonight. By C-section. You are scheduled for 5:30pm, and need to be there at 3:30 for prep.

I look at my watch. It is 2:45pm.

"Um, um um um. OK. I need to call my husband. Is this seriously happening? Tonight. Are you sure? It's hot in here. What kind of blood pressure medication can you prescribe me?"

"What?"

"Blood pressure. I've never felt it so high in my life. Can you give me something. It's hot. Oh my Jesus."

I walked out of the office once again, gave my Mom a very telling glance, and phoned my husband.

 "Baby? We're gonna have this baby."

Within 45 minutes, I had gone back to my Mom's house, took a few deep breaths with her, gained some semblance of composure, turned around and went to the hospital. Josh met me there within the hour, as did our families (Andy left for Arizona from California right away), and our good friend Shannon.

I was in a complete state of shock at the turn of events of the afternoon. Wasn't I supposed to go to my 39 week appointment, then get some fro-yo with Mom and swing by Walgreens for that new mascara that quadruples each lash? Wasn't that the plan? Ha, plans!

At 7:45pm, I was taken into the OR and given the epidural, after which Josh was allowed into the room and kept his face right up next to mine the entire time. My body was completely numb, but I could feel myself rocking side to side, up and down, with each maneauver of my OB to 'get on in there'. And at 8:19 pm, the staff urged Josh to look over the tarp at our son, emerging into the world. Our boy. His cry was like a drug, sending me into a state of pure euphoria, and to be perfectly honest, feeling extremely proud of him. Of me. Of it all.

"Is he ok? What's he like? Is he alright? Is everything good?"

"Honey, he's beautiful! He's perfect! He's BLONDE!"

Josh brought him over to my face, and it happened: I kissed his cheek, smelled his baby breath, and fell madly, hopelessly, overwhelmingly in LOVE.

And there you have it. Max Kaplan. Real human being. Nice to meet ya.

We spent the next four days at the hospital, wrapping our heads around our new roles as parents, learning to feed him and experiencing our first bouts of sleeplessness and petrification. I spent those four days staring at him, at each little finger and toe, all his little blood vessels, hair follicles, ears, nose, butt. And I couldn't believe it; any of it. I wanted to stop time and breathe him in so as to never lose this moment and the feeling of holding my newborn baby. He would never again be this small and I already felt him growing up too fast. Thank you, hormones.

Since we arrived home last Saturday, Josh and I have had to learn so much, so fast, and implement it immediately. Preparing for this baby has been akin to learning a foreign language by purchasing the Rosetta Stone, but leaving it in the saran wrap on the coffee table in that room of your house that you never go into. It is only when the baby is born that you need to dive into the program and exercise every brain cell you've collected over the span of your life, throw it all together, all at once, and switch to speaking this new language exclusively.

I'd like to take the time to thank all of our family and friends. You have been so unconditionally supportive of and excited for us, and you each show your love in your own, beautifully unique way. We have SO much gratitude for everything each of you has given us and it has surely shaped our experience of pregnancy and the journey into parenthood.

We are so happy, so busy, and so, so tired. Within the course of one week, the pleasure one might experience during a hot stone massage on the beaches of Maui is now reserved for brushing my teeth. This has been the most surreal experience of our lives. We are infused with such love and infatuation for Max, and run on that love like it's fuel.





Meeting Max

 

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Max's first burp in his whole life

                                    





Max loves bath time!