Unto Us A Child Is Born

On the morning of Thursday April 26th, Nicole and I (along with her mother Debi and cousin Becky) trekked to Glendale Memorial Hospital.

Nicole got all strapped into her bed (there was actually a seatbelt!), had an IV put in, and we listened to the baby's heartbeat, while they prepped the room next door.





I put on my elfboots, as well as a full chubby bodysuit. I felt it was very important to make the toes as pointy as possible. (There was a dance that accompanied this suit, and I think there is video footage of this...but that's for another time.)


Becky and Debi helped keep Nicole all calm, in all kinds of ways...like talking in depth about hermaphrodites, and what life must be like for them. And this was a very serious conversation. I'm not sure why.

After a while, they wheeled Nicole into the next room to prep her. I wanted to be there for that; I wanted to know what they were doing to my lady.

About ten minutes later, they escorted me into the operating room, where I knew I had to be selective about what I saw. I'm a "stay behind the sheet" kind of guy. I don't want to see my sweet lady's innards...at all. I like them to stay tucked inside.

She was very groggy, but quite chatty. Her talking was making her cough. They surgeons were appealing to me to stop the talking. I petted her head and she fell asleep.

A few minutes later, still in the middle of surgery, she woke up, turned to me and sleepily said, "You have to feel this contraction." She grabbed my hand, to put it on her tummy, and I held it firmly. She repeated "You have to feel this contraction."

I said, "Honey, no." She was really adamant, but a little more head petting and she fell asleep again.

A few more minutes later, I heard a tiny cry. Not a shriek, like I was expecting. More like a "well, this is mildly unpleasant." They took our new little boy over to the plastic bassinet to clean him up, put all sorts of tubes in his nose and mouth, and there he sat.

Our bruised little angel: Noah Quest. A hefty 9 lbs and 20 inches. The sweetest little thing I've ever seen. He couldn't open his eyes. And even that was cute.

I couldn't believe how violently they cleaned him. I'm sure it was all okay...just surprising.

Then we all took a trip in the elevator down to the room. His first elevator ride. There are going to be a lot of firsts.







They put a cute little elfin hat on his head to keep him warm.

I was taking pictures left and right, and I noticed that he looks much chubbier in photos than he does in real life. And I thought, "he takes after his parents...He doesn't photograph well."












Two hours later,
they brought Nicole down.

She was very drugged and groggy, but so happy to see him. Becky and Debi were very helpful to have around, as Nicole and Noah both needed care after going through their respective procedures.


Noah is such a sweet baby. He doesn't cry much, only when something's really bothering him. And he likes to give us lots of warning. Once the problem is taken care of, the crying stops instantly. He doesn't need to wind down or anything.

He loves his pacifier. He loves to snuggle. He hates being naked. Changing diapers is tricky, because the second the open air hits his skin, the "No Clothes Alarm" goes off. It's a very special cry, and it stops the moment his clothes are back on.

Also, he likes to open his left eye, his Scouting Eye, to see if it's worth opening the other eye. If there's nothing interesting, he closes them both.




















We're very happy to finally be home. Still getting used to the new schedule, where we don't sleep anymore. But it's the most wonderful, rewarding, beautiful experience I can imagine.









For more pictures, visit picasaweb.google.com/mikedschmid/NoahQuest