The First 24

So much happened in the first 24 hours of Finn’s life–and there were SO many feels. Even now, just three weeks later, we’re having trouble remembering everything about that first day.

I want to remember, though.

What I do know is that–like much of the first few weeks–that first day was full of a myriad of emotions for both Sona and myself. We’d been in labor, and at the hospital, for nearly a full 24 hours before Finn was born (as I wrote about in our birth story). We were both exhausted, having slept only an hour or two in that time and have not eaten a real meal since we checked in.

Finn was born at 2:48 in the afternoon. Immediately after the delivery, the nurses took him to pink him up, checked his vitals, and made sure that he was  healthy and thriving. (There were a few scares during delivery, and they took him away before we could even delay cord clamping, which we’d requested.)

I must say this: the staff at Evanston Hospital, where we delivered, was amazingly attentive. We cycled through several shifts of nurses and residents during our time there, and they were all kind, patient, and reassuring. During the 24 hours of labor, especially, they proved to be reliable and steadfast.

The 6-8 hours that followed labor, though, were challenging for all of us–but mostly for me. And here’s the thing: I’m not really sure if I experienced the same kind of isolation and general left-out-ness that fathers experience immediately following the birth of their children or if my experience was somehow made more difficult by the fact the I was Finn’s second, non-biological mother.

Nonetheless, in the hours after Finn was born, the focus was, understandably, on Sona and Finn. She was repeatedly referred to as “the mother.” I was able to hold him for a few minutes after the nurses got him cleaned up, but then they quickly took him from me, handing him to “the mother” for skin-to-skin and feeding. And there he stayed–for a long, long time.

(We did manage to sneak in our first selfie before they took him; it’s the only photo we have together from his first day of life.)

Of course, we wanted Sona to do skin-to-skin right after birth, and we were anxious to see whether or not Finn would latch quickly. (He did, thankfully!) But I guess that I expected to get to do skin-to-skin, too. I know I’d seen fathers do it, but I hadn’t explicitly asked. I hadn’t advocated for myself. That was, I think, my mistake.

After about 90 minutes of Sona having skin-to-skin, the nurses helped us pack up for our move up to the maternity ward. I took Finn from Sona, helping her into the wheel chair, but the nurse was quick to tell me that, “The mother carries the baby up to the maternity ward.” So, she took him and gave him back to Sona for the ride up.

The thing is, I think the nurses at Evanston Hospital are spectacular, and I really think they did their very best, making sure that we were all taken care of. I just think that my own insecurities about being the third wheel began to bubble up in those moments after his delivery, and that was likely due to lots of factors, including our exhaustion, the heightened emotions, my mama bear instincts kicking in, and, maybe, a little innocent confusion about how to address TWO moms.

Once we got up to the maternity ward, where we’d spend the next two days, the baby nurses took Finn to the nursery for his first bath. Since Sona had to stay in the room to recover, I was able to accompany him on this adventure, and I was, selfishly, happy to get him to myself.

I’ll never forget those couple of hours, watching Finn get his first bath, holding his little hand, and staring in complete wonder at our little son.

Those moments are particularly special because, as soon as he came back to the room, I had to leave to take our family back to our place, care for our animals, take my first shower in nearly 36 hours, and grab some dinner for Sona and myself.

While I was gone, the nurse came in the room and gave the whole how-you-care-for-baby spiel, which, as you can imagine, I was really bummed to have missed.

I was exhausted from the whole thing, and I was probably more emotional than I would have been had I been rested and fed and, you know, sane.

At around 10:00, I got back to the hospital, relieved Sona’s sister, and–for the first time–the three of us were alone.

Somehow, as sleep deprived and emotionally spent as we were, Sona and I sat up in the hospital bed and ate some take-out sushi while our son slept next to us.

Finn slept pretty soundly his first night, waking up only to feed, as expected. Since Sona was breastfeeding, I was adamant about assuming all other responsibilities. And, even still, I’m usually the one changing diapers, picking out outfits, and soothing Finn back to sleep.

Those are responsibilities I protect fiercely. At first, I did it because I thought it’d be the only way I could bond with him. Now, I do it because it’s the only time I get him to myself, especially with a nonstop parade of friends and family visits.

That next morning, after going through the photos of Finn’s first day and realizing there weren’t any of me with him–or of the three of us–I cried. Looking back, I was just throwing myself a little pity party. There was my warrior of a wife, so sore she could barely move, and I was whining about not being in any photos.

But I think I was just overwhelmed. Being a mom is hard; being a new mom is REALLY hard. I was hit so hard with a full-on crazy love for Finn, and I was terrified that he wouldn’t love me back. Or that he wouldn’t know I was his mom. Or that other people wouldn’t know that he was MY son, too.

Those were all my own hang-ups, of course, but they are hang-ups I imagine a lot of other co-parents experience.

After I had a good cry, Sona–being the saint she is–pulled herself out of bed, grabbed my camera, and insisted on getting some photos of Finn and I doing skin-on-skin.

I needed it in that moment, because I needed to feel like I was one of Finn’s moms, too. Now, three weeks later, that just seems silly. Finn is our son–both of ours–and a photo or two doesn’t change that.

But there were some growing pains in those first few days, mostly born out of a love so big and wild that it couldn’t be tamed. It scared us then, and it scares us now, but it’s so, so good.