Its been a very eventful weekend with a very unfortunate end, I hope to post about everything else that happened soon, but tonight's events seem to take precedence right now.

February 29th 2004

It is 10:30pm right now as I write this, our cat, Lucy, died less than 3 hours ago. I must’ve said this already to Rhiannon a hundred times, but it literally is the weirdest thing ever, it doesn’t seem real. It definitely hasn’t set in yet that she actually died. The house seems like its missing something already.

I woke up from a nap a few hours ago; the whole family was all recovering from a long weekend together upstairs. Rhiannon ad I next to each other in bed, Landon in his bassinet, Dakota under the bed, and Lucy curled up in a ball on my feet. I scratched the dog for a few minutes, and then went over to the computer. A short while later, I watched Lucy, lying on her side at the edge of our bed, lazily start to roll over. She rolled right off the bed and landed on the floor on her back, the drop is maybe three feet long. I must admit that I laughed a little at her fall, it seemed innocently comical initially. She bounced up, flopped around violently under the computer desk for a few seconds and then lay awkwardly on the floor. I scooped her up and gently set her on the bed, Rhiannon at this point was awake from all of the commotion, and Dakota had become quite interested as well. Lying on the bed her rear leg jutted out at a weird angle, she uttered a few pathetic cries, exhaled twice over a tongue that lay halfway out of her mouth, and died. She died there, with Rhiannon and me petting her, thinking maybe she hurt her leg, or was just scared from the fall. The whole sequence of events took no more than 30 seconds. It was awful, I don’t know how else to describe it. I even tried performing CPR on her.

I should preface all of his by stating that when it comes to being a dog or a cat person, I definitely lean far more on the side of the slobbery, tail wagging canines. Lucy was an exception; she was a very unique cat. Lucy was a small grey tabby, without a spot of white on her, she looked a lot like a wild cat might. She was tiny , I doubt she weighed much more than five or six pounds, even though we did jokingly refer to her as gato gordo (fat cat) over the past few months since it looked like she had gained a little extra weight. She was a young cat, she was only five and a half year’s old, I bought her as a present for Rhiannon’s 22nd birthday. To state it clearly, Lucy was the coolest cat ever. I don’t think I’ll want another cat again simply because they won’t be Lucy.

Lucy loved to play fetch. She would chase gum wrappers, wads of paper, plastic rings, and of course her little mouse that would always end up in the strangest places around the house. Every night, Lucy would crawl under the covers, and fall asleep in the crook of my arm. She kept the cricket population way down inside our house. She was an extremely shy cat, most people never saw her and got to experience how much fun she really was. When we went on vacation last year, our neighbor said the only way she new we had a cat was that the food in her bowl would disappear.

I’ve never watched a pet die before my eyes, and never thought something like this could occur so rapidly and unexpectedly. Lucy was a very healthy cat, for all that I can figure she probably had a heart attack when she hit the ground, either that or she broke her neck, although the latter seems unlikely since she was still moving some muscles as she passed. Whatever happened - happened quickly.

I have so many different thoughts right now. I’m sad that Landon will never get to play with her, she would’ve been a great cat for him to snuggle with. I’m upset that she died so unexpectedly and so stupidly – who dies from falling off of a bed?! I’m comforted by the fact that she didn’t die alone, but I wonder what those last few moments must’ve been like for her. Another part of me is frustrated that I had to watch the whole thing; it is a very disturbing final memory to have of such a good friend.

The other thing that this has done is bring into too clear of focus just how fragile life is. I can’t believe that a limber, energetic cat could die in such a manner. It freaks me out to look at Landon and realize how tremendously delicate and defenseless he is. All night I have been holding him a little tighter, listening to his breathing patterns so intently.

Alright, I think that this post pretty much brings things back up the present, now how long I can stay caught up is another question altogether.

February 20th – 24th, 2004

Saturday evening my parents and Grandmom drove up from Poway. The visit ended up being unfortunately short since it was bracketed between two feedings for Landon, but it was still great to see my family. Sometimes it seems that all I ever do now is bracketed between Landon’s meals, and typically those meals are only 3 hours apart, so getting things done is quickly becoming a challenge. Its amazing how fast the day disappears on a schedule like that, if we get one thing accomplished right now I consider the day a success, and one thing can encompass things as minute as a doctor’s appointment or a trip to the post office. I am sure that this will improve as the family adjusts to this new schedule. One nice thing though, is that it appears that Landon is already adjusting to sleeping more at night, and in turn letting his parents sleep more as well. Typically I’m walking away with at least six hours of sleep a night, who knows how long that will continue, I probably just jinxed myself pretty good.

So back to Saturday night. This was the first time that my Dad had held his grandson. It was great to see the love in his eyes for the little guy, I’m sure a flood of new poems are on the way. My Grandmom also met Landon for the first time. She is an amazing woman, she is now 92 years old, and firmly resides as the matriarch of our family. She looked so pleased to hold her newest great grandson; I only wish my Grandad was there to share the experience with her.

Rhiannon and I also had our greatest diaper changing calamity to date while my parents were visiting. Landon not only mustered up enough shit to fill a diaper well beyond its carrying capacity, but he also managed to launch a golden shower directly into Rhiannon’s face during the changing process. All the while my Dad looked on with the biggest grin on his face. I guess that karma does exist.

Sunday evening we went over to Rhiannon’s parents and visited with them, as well as with Rhiannon’s sister Andrea and her new husband Rick. We visited for several hours, and I am sure that Landon never touched the ground or any cushions or his bed – he was in somebody’s arms the entire time. I don’t know if a newborn can be held too much, but if that is possible I’m sure we will find out with Landon.

While at the Sharp’s, Landon also launched his first successful projectile vomit. Right after Rhiannon had finished feeding him I decided it would be cool to strike a few poses reminiscent of the scene from the Lion King where little Simba gets held out in the air for all of the animal kingdom to see. In hindsight this was probably a poor choice, for not moments after I handed him back to his mom, I heard a loud splat as his evening dinner came flying back out of his mouth and onto the hard wood floor below. Oops.

Monday was a very mellow day which was nice. Landon continues to sleep well. The big event today was a walk to the lake near our condo. The whole family ventured out and we decided to sit on a bench by the lake for a short rest and to enjoy the view. Dakota used this opportunity to find some fresh duck shit, still moist from the rains the night before, and use it to give her a full-body shit bath. She smelled incredible. Landon didn’t seem to mind at all, I’m sure in a few years he will be rolling around right next to his tail wagging pal.

We took Landon to get his first official portrait taken on Tuesday to celebrate his first week on the planet. He slept through most of the affair, which was nice since he was being poked and prodded this way and that like he was some sort of doll. I know I hate being told to drop my chin 2 inches to the left and to open my eyes up wide, and to smile at the camera… I can only imagine what it must feel like to be physically placed in all of these various positions without any personal control. Like I said, I was glad to see him sleep through most of it, and the pictures did turn out good which I guess in some small way made the torture worth it.

Tuesday evening the big, black, crusty mess that represented the remnants of Landon’s umbilical cord finally fell off. Now I won’t be as scared to tickle his cute little belly. The cord remnants which were about the size of a peach pit fell squarely into Rhiannon’s cleavage while she was feeding the tyke. Lets just say she wasn’t too pleased.

February 25th, 2004

Today we went to see a lactation nurse to make sure that Landon is getting all of the milk and nutrition he needs. Nursing is a black box operation, since breasts aren’t transparent, at least not Rhiannon’s, its hard to know exactly how much food the little guy is pulling out. Rhiannon was nervous that he wasn’t feeding long enough, and therefore wasn’t receiving enough milk. At this point, Landon seems healthy, so more that anything we went for reassurance that all was going well.

The nurse was very impressed with both Landon and Rhiannon. She put Landon on the scale and he now weighs in at 10lbs 2oz – he has now officially joined the double digit weight club, a club whose current members include Emmanuel Lewis and Laura Flynn Boyle to name a few. According to the lactation nurse he feeds, “like a barracuda”, which I enjoyed because of the fish reference, although I would have preferred something more along the likes of, “he sucks like a trout drunk on mayflies.”

Rhiannon also received a number of accolades from the lactation nurse. When she discovered that Rhiannon had given birth to such a large child naturally, she referred to her as a “remarkable woman” and then later, at the end of our visit she called her a “miraculous woman” as well. I am sure that I have never been labeled miraculous in any context. It’s got to feel good, and I have to admit, that I agree with the nurse’s description completely.

Tonight, Landon began to develop an eye infection, although he seems to be pretty unfazed by it, the yellow stalactites that hang across his eyes give me the creeps. A quick call to the doctor and we now have some eye drops to administer 3 times a day for the next 5 days, which is the good news, the more difficult part of this equation is actually administering an eye drop into the eyes of a newborn who more often than not is sleeping or scrunching his eyes closed for various reasons. It’s difficult to do something to your son that you know may inflict some pain, but that in the long run will help him heal or produce other beneficial results. I’m guessing that this is a recurring theme throughout fatherhood, but it doesn’t make holding his eye open and applying the drops any easier.

Please bear with me, I'm still trying to catch up with the events from last week, hopefully one or two more posts, and I'll be back to living in the present.

February 18th, 2004

I woke up this morning to the sound of our nurse coughing in our room; it was unbelievably already 8:30am, meaning that I had spent my first night as a dad raking in at least 5 hours of sleep. I couldn’t believe it. Rhiannon asked if I had heard the baby’s cries from the previous night, I replied that I hadn’t, and how stoked I was about our well behaved boy. Much to my surprise she informed me that Landon had been up for close to an hour wailing away between 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning. She said I didn’t budge the whole time. I asked her why she didn’t wake me up, and she said she didn’t think she could. I quickly jumped to the surfer’s ear defense. I have a pretty bad case of surfer’s ear, especially in my left ear – surfer’s ear is the growth of calcareous nodules in your ear canal as the body responds to cold air and water from the outside world – conditions one would likely find sitting on a surfboard in mid January, something I’ve done since my adolescence. Anyway, if I sleep on my right ear, with only my left ear exposed, I really don’t hear much at all, I don’t hear our dog Dakota bark, I don’t hear the phone ring, and apparently I don’t hear our baby cry. The fact that the previous day had been such a whopper probably didn’t help much either.

Today was a chance for the family to come and see the baby – and they did, here is a list of when and who visited, just to give an idea of the enormity of it all:

10:00 – 2:00 Aunt Andrea
10:30 – 12:30 Cousin Heather
11:00 – 2:00 Great Grandparents Sharp
11:30 – 2:00 Grandma Sharp
12:30 – 1:30 Jenna Schoen
3:00 – 4:00 Carlene Corpus
6:00 – 8:00 Grandparents Sharp
7:00 – 8:30 Grandmom Buhr
7:30 – 8:00 Great Aunt Mary

And chances are good I’ve forgotten somebody. Don’t get me wrong, it was great to share Landon with everybody, but it was a little overwhelming at times. Rhiannon’s grandparents were especially excited; they have no male grandchildren, and all of their grandkids are girls, so the fact that their first great-grandson was a boy increased their elation ten-fold.

During a break in the action in the afternoon, I crawled into the hospital bed with Rhiannon and Landon, and together we read our son his first story. It was entitled “On the Day You Were Born” by Debra Frasier. Up to this point I had kept most of my emotions in check, but for some reason, this event brought on the water works. I had to stop reading several times to wipe the tears off my face, I was glad to look over and see Rhiannon going through the same thing. I think more than anything it was a momentous wave of reality that hit me, realizing that here I was holding my wife, holding our son. The previous day wasn’t a dream after all.

It rained most of the day today. I showed Landon the raindrops and told him they were good for trout streams. He might have smiled.

Our nurse that evening was Comala. She was an incredibly tall Indian woman, with long salt and pepper hair and a thick accent. I think Rhiannon and I were both a little wary of her at first, but she ended up being a tremendous nurse. Landon had a pretty tough evening, so her support was definitely needed. Between the late afternoon and early evening Landon received his first shot (a Hepatitis B vaccination), PKU tests (where they basically bleed the heck out of his little heel to test for several diseases), and got his unit cut on (circumcision). He is a remarkably resilient baby, after each of these potentially traumatizing experiences he rebounded quickly and was back off to dreamland in a matter of minutes. Through it all Comala was there to explain everything, and to reassure us what a perfect little baby boy we had. She also helped Rhiannon with some nursing tips, answered questions we had about the circumcision and its care, and in general really seemed to take great pleasure in assisting us.

Embarrassed as I am to admit it, we ended the night falling asleep watching the O.C.

February 19th, 2004

This morning Rhiannon received a visit from Dr. Fiorentino, and Landon received a visit from one of the pediatricians in his doctor’s practice. Both patients received clean bills of health. We got our walking papers, and after probably the most eventful 48 hours of our lives, we were discharged from the hospital and free to go home.

I was definitely pumped at the idea of getting back to the comfortable and quiet walls of our home, but I must acknowledge that I did leave the hospital with some trepidation. At St. Joseph’s we had a fully trained staff of medical professionals to assist us, if the baby wasn’t eating – push the magic button, if the baby hiccupped for what seemed like forever – push the magic button, if something that suddenly appeared in the baby’s diapers looked a little strange – push the magic button. I left the hospital feeling pretty sure that we hadn’t gotten around to installing a magic button at home. It made this whole parenting experience take on a far more responsibility laden slant. Rhiannon and I were now completely responsible for our son’s health and well being, it seemed like such an ominous burden.

Once home, we had Rhiannon’s Mom bring back over our dog, we were pretty nervous figuring that Dakota's response to our family’s new addition was a completely unknown variable. Her response was unexpected. Dakota came through the door, tail wagging, briefly she said hello to Rhiannon and I, gave one quick lick to Landon’s face, and then went about her normal routine, eventually crawling under our bed upstairs.

Rhiannon's sister Andrea ordered an eight foot high stork to be delivered to the outside of our house that would announce Landon's arrival. I wasn't exactly sure how gawky or obnoxious it might be, but it turned out to be pretty cool. Not only did it help delivery men find where to take the cookie bouquets and baby presents, but it also served as a sign, a large, impossible to miss sign, that the Buhr's had a new addition to their family.

It felt great to sleep in our room that night, listening to Landon’s little gurgles floating out of the bassinette at the side of the bed.

On February 17th, 2004 I became a father for the first time. In the following journal I will attempt to describe some of the feelings and experiences I encounter during this new float called fatherhood. The first few posts may be a little long winded, but its been a long week. I'm just trying to keep my head above water.

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February 17th, 2004

Rhiannon and I were scheduled to check in at the hospital at 5:45am for her induction, that didn't leave a lot of time for sleeping the night before, but as it turned out we didn't get much sleep anyway. Nerves and anticipation kept us awake more than anything. I think that Rhiannon being induced made things more uncomfortably nerve wracking than they needed to be. Over the last day or so anyway, patience was hard to come by, this probably had something to do with the fact that throughout the last 9 months you have a rough due date on when your little bundle of joy is coming, but nothing is set in stone, there is no official deadline. Maybe its too many over-dramatized TV and movie representations of what going into labor is supposed to be like, but I was prepared to be caught off guard and be swept up in a mad tornado dash to the hospital; not to spend the night prior to going to the hospital staring awake at the ceiling, knowing that if all went well, by this time tomorrow I would be a father. That anticipation seemed to be far worse than the tornado - too many slow minutes spent thinking, "am I really ready to be a father?"

We got to the hospital on time and checked into our delivery room, we were a little bummed to be placed in one of the older rooms at St. Joseph's, most of this wing of the hospital had been remodeled, just not our room, but plenty of happy babies had already been delivered in this room, so we figured it was as good as any. Our first nurse was Connie. Connie was a Filipino woman with a heavy accent and not enough sleep the night before. She was working the 7pm to 7am shift, so we caught her with just under an hour left in her shift. She was difficult to have a conversation with, and kept asking us to repeat things again and again. We were relieved when her shift ended an hour later. Before she left, Connie attached an I.V. to Rhiannon, and began her induction. The induction involved the slow administration of a drug called Pitosin. Pitosin is a chemical analog for the hormone Oxytocin which naturally starts labor in women. The drawback to induction is that Pitosin brings on contractions much quicker and more intense than in natural labor, so we were both a little apprehensive (Rhiannon more than me) about what this was going to be like.

Rhiannon was pretty nervous at this time anyway, I think the eminent prospect of labor, and the unknown quantity that it comprised was becoming very real for her at this point. I found it very interesting that during Rhiannon's pregnancy, she again and again had complete strangers approach her, and then quickly share their personal horror stories involving labor. "My labor was 40 hours long, my cousin had her baby in the hospital elevator, I tore from hole to hole, etc". No stranger approached with stories of how easy labor was, although I'm sure these events do exist. All of this didn't help Rhiannon's nerves when the big day finally did arrive. Luckily she does have several friends at her school that have recently had children, so they were able to counteract some of this pre labor negativity with positive stories of their own.

Rhiannon was scheduled to be induced only 3 days after her due date because she was measuring excessively large for her stage of pregnancy. The doctor couldn't rule out that this was due to excess amniotic fluid, but the possibility that she could be growing some sort of monster in her belly caused the scheduling of this early induction (women are routinely induced 10 - 14 days after their due date). Basically the concern was that if the baby got much bigger, Rhiannon wouldn't be able to pass the infant naturally and would require a C-section. As we would find out later, it was a good thing the doctor acted when he did.

At 7am our new nurse Marsha arrived. Marsha was wonderful, and honestly I couldn't imagine a better nurse for the two (three) of us. She was an older nurse, but she had a very young spirit. She seemed to be full of experience, she had a great sense of humor with plenty of sarcasm, and more than anything else, she seemed to possess a genuine care for her patients. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and set both of us at ease. Marsha was a bit flighty at times; she would often ask us what she had just said, or what she had come into the room to do, but if anything this made me feel a little more valuable during the day, reminding her what Rhiannon's temperature was, or that she had come into the room to change the I.V. bag. Perhaps all of this was just a bedside trick of Marsha's to relax fathers to be, whether it was or not, it certainly worked for me.

After being checked in, and the induction process started, basically we began playing the waiting game. Rhiannon wore a monitor that recorded the baby's heartbeat, as well as a monitor that charted her contractions. Every hour the amount of Pitosin delivered was increased, with the goal of getting her contractions to becoming stronger and more frequent. I should mention at this point, that for the past several weeks Rhiannon had been experiencing mild contractions regularly throughout the day - so when Marsha came in check on Rhiannon and mentioned that she was, "really banging out the contractions," Rhiannon's response was that her contractions and pain were no different now than they had been for the past few weeks. At this point Rhiannon was having mild contractions every 2 minutes, and was dilated 2cm.

Sometime between 8:30am and 9:00am both of our parents, and Andrea, Rhiannon's sister showed up. They entered the delivery room unannounced, which was a little disconcerting since we had asked them to wait and be invited in, but luckily Rhiannon was dressed and comfortable at the time. I could sympathize with their excitement, and curiosity, and we were both glad to see their smiling supportive faces. This after all was not only our first child, but also a first grandchild as well. Both of out mothers had faces wet with tears. After some warm hugs and words of encouragement I escorted the family to the waiting room, where they awaited updates (sometimes patiently) throughout the day.

Our doctor, Dr. Randy Fiorentino, arrived sometime in the next hour to check on Rhiannon, and to break her water. Dr. Fiorentino is a great doctor, he is young, humorous, and has two young kids of his own. He is also a big man at probably close to 6' 4" and 200 some pounds. He checked Rhiannon's progress, at this stage she was now between 3 and 4cm dilated. To break her water, the doctor inserted a long plastic hook into Rhiannon that would rupture her amniotic fluid. Up to this point, this was definitely the most pain that Rhiannon has experienced. I sat on the side lines, holding her clenched hand and watching the grimaces ebb and flow across her face. The water itself literally sounded like a bucket of water being dumped down the end of the bed. I'll admit, I wanted to make a trout stream joke, I wisely decided that now was not he time.

Once her water was broken, the progress of labor accelerated very quickly; and with it came more intense and frequent contractions. This was the stuff you see on TV, contractions so painful that sitting, standing, breathing, even blinking becomes painful. It was also the first time I felt really integral in this whole process, sure I did some menial things previously, but at this stage of labor I felt like Rhiannon actually needed me their to help her through each contraction. She practiced what little breathing techniques we came away with from our birthing class, she chewed up a million ice chips, and she watched the door longingly, every time it opened, hoping that the anesthesiologist would be the next one through the door. I should probably also mention the fact that the woman in the delivery room next to us was experiencing uncontrollable and explosive diarrhea throughout her labor, this kept Marsha fairly occupied, but it also gave me the chance to point out to Rhiannon that things could be worse. The anesthesiologist did eventually come, about an hour and a half after her water was broken. He too was excellent, he cracked a few quick jokes, and before we knew it Rhiannon was well on her way to a medicated bliss. The epidural itself is simply a large needle that is inserted into the outer sheath of the spinal column, and slowly releases an anesthetic that keeps her body numb from the chest south to her feet.

Within about 20 minutes Rhiannon could hardly feel the contractions at all, and we decided that this would be a good time for the family to come in and visit one last time. It was now around noon, although the day already seemed about 3 times as long. I went to get the family in the waiting room and to catch them up to speed on what had happened in the last few hours. They listened intently to every word I had to say, I can think of few such attentive audiences I have ever had regardless of the topic of conversation. By now Rhiannon's Grandparents Alonzo were also on hand, her abuela became extremely upset as I described what Rhiannon had been through so far, and walked out of the waiting room crying, she felt she was unable to go see Rhiannon in this condition. The rest of the family flocked back to the delivery room and assailed Rhiannon with questions about her condition and her experiences so far. I snuck out, with both of our mothers, and hauled down to the cafeteria to get song long awaited sustenance. I don't know how pregnant women do it, going through this entire labor process without food or water save for a few lousy ice chips, it was barely past noon and I was starving. I got a cheese burger and fries, and charged back up to the delivery room. I was a little apprehensive about bringing food into a room where someone had been working as hard as Rhiannon had, but being the selfless girl that she is, she said that it didn't bother her at all, and that she was glad I was getting something to eat. It was hands down one of the top ten cheese burgers of my life.

After eating I walked the family back to the waiting room, with the promise that I would keep them informed with any changes as they progressed. Since she was now pretty numb they could increase the amount of Pitosin Rhiannon received, this would move the labor along more rapidly. And it did, within the next two hours Rhiannon zipped from 4 to 8 to 10cm fully dilated; even Marsha was shocked when she did her final assessment and found that Rhiannon was 10cm dilated and fully effaced. Basically this meant it was go time. What was nice about these afternoon hours was that Rhiannon was completely oblivious to any pain. After seeing what she went through after having her water broken, I can't even imagine what those hours would have been like without the epidural. It was now about 3:30pm, and I went to update the family one last time. They mobbed me at the door, expecting me to tell them that our new addition had safely arrived. To say that they were let down by the news that basically I had no news would be an understatement, I explained to them that we were getting close, and vowed not to return until Rhiannon had given birth.

Things proceeded slowly for the next hour; we basically waited while the baby dropped further into the birth canal, this took longer than anticipated. I phoned my Dad to let him know of our progress, I figured he was the least excitable of the bunch, and as I said earlier I had vowed not return to that waiting room without news of a baby. He said that the room went silent and everybody was hanging on his every word, this definitely reaffirmed my decision not to return to that room, I let him pass along the not so eventful update.

Rhiannon officially started pushing around 4:30pm with Marsha and me at either side to help her out. She now lay on her back (something she hadn't done in over nine months), with her legs in stirrups, and her head pinned to her chest. Every contraction she took a deep breath, held it, and pushed, while we held her legs even closer to her chest, and I counted out a ten count. We repeated this three times for every contraction, once in awhile taking a break to rest. By 5:00pm Dr. Fiorentino arrived, and the real show started from there. At this point the baby's head was visible, and the pushing became that much more intense. A few quick thoughts on the whole pushing experience. First off, Rhiannon was anesthetized, and so she described pushing against a mild pressure, but nothing more, all the while pushing as hard as she could against this dull force. Secondly, Rhiannon was basically rolled up into a little ball of pushing energy, and with every push her face had the craziest expression coupled with red and white blotches that exploded across her cheeks. I would jump back and forth between fighting back laughter at the facial comedy she presented, to holding back tears realizing that any moment our baby would be crying in the same room.

The whole birthing process is a tremendous circus when it comes right down to it. There are nurses suddenly appearing out of every door, similar to clowns falling out of a tiny little car, the doctor takes the role of ringmaster, blasting out orders, and highlighting new events "and in this corner - a head!," Rhiannon played the role of some sort of wicked cross between a contortionist and a cannon that would fire out a baby, the human cannon ball. I guess that would place me as some lucky onlooker called out of the stands to participate.

At 5:15pm Landon Wyatt burst onto this planet with a shrill scream, and he landed firmly on Rhiannon's still heaving belly. That was expected, what wasn't expected was his size. Both the doctor and nurse exclaimed "That's a BIG baby!", and they were right, he was. Landon weighed in at a whopping 9 pounds 10 ounces and measured 22 inches in length. As I have already said several times since, that's a good sized trout. I cut his umbilical cord, and it was official, Rhiannon and I had a son. Ten fingers and ten toes were counted, and flash bulbs began to explode, Landon had arrived safely, and I can't remember ever feeling a greater sense of relief. He cried his eyes out through healthy lungs, and I never remember hearing a sweeter sound. I think Rhiannon was in a state of shock, she stared wide eyed at this monster she had just given birth to, the most precious monster she had ever seen.

I stared at Landon for quite awhile, just looking at my son, not really believing that he was actually here, and still listening to his cry sing through my ears. The nurses continued to clean him up, and I realized we had several anxious people waiting for any shred of news in the next room. I stepped out of the door and both of our mothers were there waiting in the hall, as the door closed they caught a whisper of Landon crying, and asked if those were the cries of their new grandson (I don't know what other baby they though might be crying in our delivery room). I never really thought about the importance of a baby's cries before, they had always seemed more of an annoyance than anything else to me previously, but after only minutes of fatherhood I began to look at the real value of these cries. It made me think of various nature shows I'd viewed in the past, where be it an elephant seal pup on a beach, or a penguin chick in a nest - a family identifies and acknowledges its baby's individual cries. And here in a hospital in Orange County this pattern again emerged.

Both mothers were assured that baby and mom were fine, and hugs and tears were exchanged. We all raced back to the waiting room to pass the news along to the rest of the family. More hugs and tears ensued, along with the continued disbelief of Landon's size. I asked them for a little more patience, that Landon was going to try and get his first meal, and that they could meet the little guy at 7:00pm, they agreed, I think more than anything, enthralled that everything and everyone came through okay.

I floated back to the delivery room to see my wife holding our son - definitely a vision I will never forget. They both looked so beautiful, and so perfectly content.

After he finished his first meal I finally got the chance to hold my son for the first time. Time literally stood still, and raced forward at the same time. I don't think I can do any justice to my feelings at this juncture. It was bizarrely wonderful, terrifying, and an overwhelming sense of relief all twisted together with hundreds of other emotions added for flavor. I sat there in a rocking chair, holding my son, scared to breathe too hard, hands shaking, realizing my life would never be the same.

Before I knew it the doors burst open, and our family poured into the delivery room amidst a chorus of sighs and another serving of tears. Cameras flashed and the throng of excitement pushed close around Landon. I think he got a little over stimulated. We let the family goggle for a short period of time, but quickly realized that this was too much too fast for the little tyke. I mean here he was experiencing the feeling of air on his skin for the first time, and all of a sudden he was swamped by new faces and sounds. We scooted the family out again, and had them return in smaller numbers. In the blink of an eye it was 8:00pm visiting hours were over, and Rhiannon, Landon and I were moved to the Mother/Baby wing of the hospital for further monitoring and recovery.

At the end of our time in the delivery room we received yet another new nurse, Marissa. She tried to explain to us that some babies were really reclusive and that they didn't like a lot of people or noise or light around. While this may in fact be true, it made Rhiannon feel like there was something wrong with or son. We were glad to see Marissa walk away as soon as she had wheeled us into our new room.

We settled into our new room, wherein all likelihood we would be staying for the next few days. We met Jeremi, our new nurse; she was a quiet, non conversational, middle aged woman, who seemed a little standoffish, but in hindsight she was probably just trying to give us a little time to ourselves - we had all had a long day and were exhausted. She quickly took us through the ins and outs of infant care, including diaper care and umbilical cord cleaning, and more importantly showed us the magic button we could push to make her appear out of thin air. She asked if we would like her to take Landon down to the nursery for a few hours, but we quickly agreed that we didn't want the little guy out of our sight. We watched him sleep for hours, tensing up at every little gurgle he made, amazed at every twitch. Eventually we fell asleep for the first time as parents.