7 lbs 5 oz, 18.25" long
9:27 p.m.
My labor story: I pushed 1 1/2 times.
(Hehe...this is a pre-labor picture, but it's so fitting, isn't it?)
The poor boy swallowed some meconium, though, so we were made aware that he'd go straight from the catcher's mitt to the clinical newborn bed (with all the lights and do-hickies) where a NICU team would be ready for him. We were told there probably wouldn't even be enough time to have Tim cut the umbilical cord because the NICU team would need to suction the meconium out ASAP before he got it in his lungs. As soon as Lincoln came out, the doctor still held him up for Tim and instructed him to quickly cut the umbilical cord. And then we waited and watched from the delivery bed as the NICU team worked.
We never doubted that they knew what they were doing, and knew from the beginning that he'd be okay, but after a couple minutes of waiting, worry had started to creep in. We watched the team rub his shoulders, nudge him and encourage him, in the kindest voices, to breathe. And we just sat there and watched, holding our own breaths, as we waited for him to sound like a regular newborn. When he started crying, I immediately went into mommy-of-a-newborn mode and freaked out about him being hungry; but when I asked if I could feed him, they said, "Breathing before eating." So, unlike our first two kiddos, this one didn't get to sit on my chest and meet me right away... He had to catch his breath first!
Our babymoon lasted approximately 48 hours--our stay at the hospital, when the nurses changed most of his diapers hehe, and our first day back home with him when the big kids were with grandma and grandpa. After that, it was like we were living in crazy town! Oh, what a difference one more child can make!
Even with Tim home the first three weeks after Linc was born--and not working from home this time, but actually home to take care of me and the kids--it was still tough. Linc screamed at me all the time during that first week and I was in a lot of pain from nursing. I remember being sleep-deprived, sore and frazzled when he was about two-days-old, making a bottle of formula for Tim to feed him with because I was convinced he wasn't getting enough colostrum, and watching him down a 4-oz bottle and then curling up in Tim's arms, content and quiet. I responded by flying off the handle. After shouting nonsensical words, I finally sobbed, "I've spent the past two days trying to feed him, I'm in a lot of pain, and all he does is scream at me. You give him one bottle and you make him happy!!"
Weeks two and three got progressively better, not without a lot of prayer and effort to try to get our lives and our home back to normal. And Tim certainly deserves a Superman Award for doing everything while he was home with us because I could hardly walk! Recovery was a lot slower this time around... So Tim not only did the housework, but took Linc to his doctor's appointments, the big kids to the park, Aislin to preschool; and he thought ahead for when he'd have to go back to work and I'd be on my own, meaning he bought a ton of precooked foods, paper plates and plasticware :)
Lincoln is three-months-old now, and although my days have never been busier, I believe we've gotten to that point where we feel stable--again--as a family. We're not as stressed out, we haven't been neglecting the big kids and then feeling like horrible parents for not doing more for them, and we've settled back into our life as if Linc had always been a part of it. We all harangue that poor boy until he either smiles at us or speaks to us in his baby babble. We can't help it--we love him oh so much :)
