Halfdan: A Troftgruben Production

On Monday, January 13th, at around 10 pm, my wife’s water broke. We expected this, not only because of my son’s due date (the 16th), but our doctor earlier in the day swiped her membrane to get her body ready for labor.

When her water broke, I must admit confusion. I had this idea I would be comforting and driving her to the hospital in a rush. She called my name since I went into the bathroom opposite of our room. Her voice exhibited excitement, and for good reason, but no contractions. Regardless, I pulled out my to-do list, collected our essentials, put down extra food for the cats and we left.

Even after living in Tacoma for three years, I can find navigating certain areas to be a challenge. We had gone to Tacoma General a couple weeks prior when Stephenie experienced intense contractions. The difficulty of that trip amplified because of me being unfamiliar with the area. But this time I could get us there.

We get into a room; she gets tested, and she’s not far dilated, around 2.5 cm. But her water broke, which meant staying at the hospital.

We get into our first birthing room. I am ready, man. Let’s get this kid out! Stephenie’s non-eventful pregnancy hit a new level in the last couple months. That’s when the contractions started and increased in intensity. There would be times where I’d be with her for two hours, timing with my app, and she would endure painful and exhausting contractions. He’s baked. She’s ready. I’m sweating. Let’s go!

First, we waited. She needed to dilate more. The room had a couch with a hide a bed and that’s where I set up camp. Played Mario Maker 2 to help past the time. Laid back and tried not to feel the discomfort of the couch below me. Leaping up often, I would help Stephenie with drinking water and such. And to pace.

The amazing nursing staff clashed with my introverted sensibilities. It’s difficult for me to interact with people without a break. They tended their duties, coming in every 30 to 60 minutes. I tried the hot tub in the room and passed out on the glorified Klingon slab.

After a few hours, with a little over a centimeter more dilated, they administered Pitocin to speed up contractions. We held off on this because we wanted the natural process to progress. Also, Pitocin is rough on the body. But we trusted our doctor.

This process continued until Tuesday evening when Stephenie requested an epidural. It’s something she didn’t want to do in the beginning but made the right choice as she had already endured close to 24 hours of contractions and medical staff digging around in her.

With hat and mask equipped, I had to look away when they did the epidural. There’s no way I could’ve viewed such a thing without passing out. But I held her hand, looking away, and everything seemed OK. Until she needed oxygen. And then her blood pressure spiked and crashed. This scared me. Several nurses worked calmly and quickly and everything was restored as fast as humanly possible but in that moment I realized that this was not going to be easy for her.

The mask gives me +10 medical with level up perks. I was able to walk out and deliver a baby after this.

We got wheeled into another room due to computer equipment in the one we were in needing replaced. The new room was pretty much identical to the first. Back-breaking Klingon-inspired couch bed and all. When Stephenie woke up a bit more I was able to talk to her. I started to panic. There was no use in even trying to control it and the tears rolled out. I hugged her as best as I could and somehow passed out for two or three hours, sleeping and listening to the nurses talk in and out.

During these hours Stephenie’s dilation seemed to have stalled. Talk began of a C-section. It was always the last resort and at this stage we were closing in on 30 hours of Stephenie’s body enduring stress.

When the doctor came in later, close to the 32 hour mark, she remarked if she could get the baby to turn, Stephenie could fully dilate and, hopefully, give birth. We all agreed and she began. Stephenie yelled in pain with each push and twist from the doctor’s procedure. But it happened. He turned! Suddenly my anxiety started to lift a little. This is finally going to come to an end, she’s endured so much. And we don’t have to put her into surgery.

The doctor leaves to tend to other affairs. The room has a different feel. My stomach, which rejected a tuna sandwich from lunch the day prior, was feeling less nauseous. Migraine was still there but with only 5 - 6 hours of “sleep” in the span of 32 hours, I could deal with that.

A couple more hours pass and things progress as anticipated. The moment is close. We all feel it.

Before I know it the doctor is back in and is coaching Stephenie to push. This goes on for about two hours. We were closing in on the finish line. And then something happened, Stephenie screamed out in pain and pleaded for the doctor to remove her hand. The doctor complied as Stephenie continued to cry out from a pain so intense the epidural stood no chance. In tears, she repeated over and over that something did not feel right. As this all unfolded and the doctor started ordering nurses. I honestly cannot recall what the orders were as my chest tightened, nausea intensified and tears started to flow.

A nurse came up to me and handed over a gown and cap. The doctor then approached me. We discussed what I would do in this moment hours prior when the c-section was first mentioned. As stated above, I am very squeamish when it comes to any sort of gore. While I wouldn’t see those details, I am still very sensitive to smells and sounds. Given I was already having issues, I looked at the doctor with teary eyes and just said, “I can’t”. She reassured me. She knew more than anyone in that room the dangers of me passing out. She witnessed my near death experience at the clinic two years prior, an allergic reaction to the flu shot.

The next thing I knew, the doctor was gone as the nurses gathered what they needed, including Stephenie, and wheeled her out.

I sat down in the rocking chair completely lost. I did the only thing that came to my mind, I texted my mom to update her. After a kind nurse finished cleaning up and left I called my mom. I needed a distraction as the panic attack was getting worse. Talking to my mom helped and was able to calm myself a bit.

And then a nurse came in. She said I have a son. I asked if he was ok. She said he was. Then I asked about Stephenie. She was bleeding a bit from the surgery, it was going to take longer to see her because they put her under anesthesia but recovering.

A few minutes later I was brought out to the hallway. At this point I was chatting with my dad on the phone as he shared a story about how my grandpa had to take a massive dump right before my grandma gave birth the first time (massive dumps are a Troftgruben staple). Then I was asked by a nurse to follow her. As I followed her I was told my son looked just like me. That’s when I asked if he has red hair. She confirmed.

We stopped in front of a door and she explained to me he was having a little trouble breathing but it was nothing out of the ordinary based on what was happening with Stephenie and all the trauma she went through.

Suddenly the nurse got a call and was told he was coming out right now. Apparently he was already breathing fine, which was a great relief.

When I saw him roll out, the first thing I remember seeing were his eyes. When I held him for the first time, as it was the first thing to do since Stephenie was still recovering, I couldn’t help but keep staring at those eyes. I realized that’s because he reminds me a lot of his mother. I know those eyes. And those lips. And I love them. The ass chin he inherited is a Thompson trait from my mom’s side. Well done, genetics.

I took my shirt off, cradled and fed him donor milk. I knew the importance of this moment and felt bad Stephenie wasn’t the one to be doing it first. But I did what I could. And I’m grateful for that moment.

He was the first baby I ever held. In fact, he’s going to be many firsts for me. I have absolutely no experience with children beyond him. I applied a similar technique to my marriage. I didn’t have as much dating experience as most people, yet I knew what I wanted and built an amazing life with someone. Make no mistake, I’m under no illusions. The baby is in charge. But I feel if Stephenie and I can be together this long and continue to love each other this much, Halfdan is only going to add that much more to our lives.

I am also eternally grateful to Dr Stearman and the amazing staff of nurses and CNAs that tended to my family at Tacoma General. I know I’m forgetting some people but shout outs in no particular order: Tina, Robyn, Anna, Hope, Annie, Shandy, Kate, and Kristy. The camaraderie between Stephenie and these fellow nurses was real and special.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go work on my Chad dad bod.

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Halfdan: A Troftgruben Production