Over this last weekend, I was reminded of the birth of my son almost 14 years ago. It was one of those stories that I still have a chuckle over, largely because like nearly all stories of children coming into this world, this one didn’t go according to plan.
We had big plans, too. We were going to enjoy the brand new birthing rooms at Harrison Hospital in Bremerton. Parker’s mommy, Sharon, was going to indulge in the restaurant-quality menu they had in place. We were going to welcome our baby into this world in complete harmony and relaxation.
Ah, the best laid plans. We had visited the doctor’s office at the beginning of the week so we knew that the whole ball had begun rolling. Mommy to be had dilated three centimeters, but that was it. The minutes turned into hours turned into days.
On May 9 I got a rude awakening. My wife had gone missing. It was 5 a.m. I finally found her in the bathroom. She had been in there since 3 a.m. with a “potty problem.” As we were discussing the problem, her water broke. The reluctant turd turned out to be our son. It seems he wanted to come out NOW!
I had promised my daughter that she could come along with us so I ran two flights down to her room to roust her out of bed. Within five minutes we were in the car. Parker, of course, didn’t want really want to wait until we got our act together. We tried to count the contractions but there weren’t any. It was just Peak, Peak, Valley, Peak, Peak Valley.
We sped off in the Grand Am. I broke every law in the book, shaving a full 8 minutes off the 20 minute trip. There was no way I was going to pull off the road in Gorst and have my son born there. It would have dogged him throughout his life and he would have cursed me for his meager success as a Radio Shack clerk, the best one could hope for being born in Gorst, Washington.
On the way, I called the hospital. They asked how far apart the contractions were. I told them they were constant. They thought I was joking, even though the kid was crowning in the seat next to me.
Finally, the Emergency Department. I ran in and said I was the one who had called about my wife being in labor. I think they still thought I was a typical overreacting first time dad. They pointed to a wheelchair that I could used to bring her in. Once I brought her in, they immediately knew this was the real deal. Suddenly, I wasn’t a crazy dad to be anymore. An orderly and nurse swooped Sharon up and she disappeared into the corridors of the hospital.
I had Becca park the car as I wheeled Sharon in, so she finally joined me in the Emergency Room. We were given zig-zag directions to the Birthing Center and off we dashed.
When I arrived, I saw the guy in the Nurse’s Station chatting on the phone casually. I was in a bit of a rush here, so I made it obvious that I wanted to be helped now! He finally cupped his hand over the phone and said, “I’m on the phone with your doctor. How can I help you.”
I asked which room my wife was in. He didn’t have time to answer. Behind me, I heard an ear piercing scream that was in a pretty familiar key. Even in labor, Sharon had perfect pitch.
It was now 5:39 a.m. I opened the door and stepped in. Becca followed. The nurse already had a leg up on Sharon, helping her with her pushes. She barked at Becca to have a seat. Becca dutifully sat down at the end of the bed, with a front row view of all hell breaking loose. As I stood there for a moment, time stood still and I wondered if she would ever want to have sex… they should really let all teenagers have that vantage point.
The nurse barked her next order at me. “Grab her leg and pull her knee up to her face.” That hardly seemed like a natural thing to do. And I wasn’t quite sure she would bend like a Gumby. But she did.
Everything happened very quickly after that. Three big pushes, two more ear piercing screams and not a single cuss word or curse. With the last push Parker Ryan Zerr came into this world. It was 5:43 a.m.
I have heard since that the first kid can take a while to arrive and that labor can be quite long. Not in our case. There was no time for a anesthesia, a delivery room or even a doctor. We didn’t get to put on scrubs. The doctor didn’t arrive for another 30 minutes and he took care of all the, well, after effects of birth with Sharon while I took Parker off to the nursery.
On the way to the hospital, even driving at 85 mph, I had found time to call Sharon’s parents who wanted to be present for the birth of their grandchild. I felt really bad for them. They arrived at 7 a.m., her mom with book in hand, ready for a long day. Becca and I met them in the lobby as we were getting something to eat. They asked how it was going and I said we were all done.
Parker was a little worse for wear. Being mistaken for a bowel movement, he was a little pointy headed from his time in the waiting room (re: birth canal). He was pretty red, too. The nurse compared his arrival to a long airplane flight. Most kids have a smooth easy approach and landing and have time to adjust to everything. Parker crashed and burned when he arrived. That’s why he had a little problem initially with residual amniotic fluid and other junk in his lungs.
We were out of the hospital by 5 p.m. that day. Yes, you red right. The hospital had assigned Sharon a breastfeeding diet even though we were bottle feeding. She wanted a hamburger. So we looked at each other about 2 p.m. and decided we should blow this popstand and head home. The doctor thought that was just fine, so we weren’t even in the hospital for 12 hours. Typical Zerrs, never doing anything typical.
And that is the story behind the story of my little bouncing boy, who soon will be taller than I am, at the age of 14.
Out on the Treasure Coast, a super proud daddy of two great children,
– Robb