A thousand words

Magnus

I really have to apologise for my looong silence. The dial-up at home has not been playing along. I even went in to work to see if I could post from there, but Murphys law dictated that something would be wrong with the work network at that precise moment too!

As Dirk said, Magnus came a full two weeks before his official due date. Not that he had any choice in the matter, poor child!

I went in for a routine check-up to the local OB. By then it was clear that Mister was not about to flip from his breech position and I had resigned myself to a c-section. The only question was: When? I would have ideally liked to hold off for as long as possible. The OB in Durban changed his mind again and again and was really getting on my nerves. It was clear that he had no concern over what would be in the baby’s best interest – only what would be the safest in terms of his insurance.

No wonder that my blood pressure – always volatile around white-coat professionals – shot up. And to add insult to injury, there was a trace of protein in my urine too. We were sent to hospital to monitor the baby and have some blood tests done. And who would meet us at the maternity ward’s reception but my favourite nurse in the whole wide world….I nearly turned around and walked out of the hospital but Dirk asked politely if anybody else was available and she called her colleague – who turned out to be one of those rare creatures: An angel disguised as a nurse…

The baby was fine, my blood tests came back normal. Yet it was still decided to go ahead with the so-called emergency c-section. My parents jumped in their car and raced to our aid. Dirk rushed home to fetch Marco and Jenny and Marco could see me for a brief minute before going in to theatre. He was not really impressed with the fetching theatre cap I wore, but at least he was reassured that I was alive.

The operation itself was highly unpleasant. For the first few minutes I could not breathe well at all. Not sure if it was the spinal block or the weight of the baby cutting off my oxygen supply. I tried controlled breathing but was drenched in cold sweat. They tried lowering the screen so that I could watch Magnus being born, but it didn’t really work well. Due to his extended breech position and size, they battled to get him out and he stressed enormously. He was covered in meconium and was suctioned. Fortunately he could be brought to me immediately and Dirk held him nest to my face so that I could cuddle with him for a few minutes. I had bad pain in my shoulder, but it was nothing compared to meeting my baby.The theatre was not as cold as usual, but as soon as he started getting cold Dirk and the nurse took him to the nursery. I stayed in recovery, shivering and shaking violently and was taken to my room. By then, Marco, Jenny and my parents – who had arrived just after Magnus was born – had already seen Magnus.

And then things became much better. The hospital – who’d seemed so inflexible at first – really went out of their way to accommodate every wish. They hired extra staff so that there was a neonatal nurse or nursing assistant available at all times and so that Magnus quite literally never had to leave my presence again for the remainder of our stay. I could breastfeed quite soon and Magnus was a real pro. I spent the whole first night awake in an adrenaline rush, just looking at Magnus.

I must mention the staff again: They really were wonderful. The neonatal nurse, Cathy, plans on doing a psychology course and giving support to people with babies in NICU as well as people with infertility. Neat, huh?

We left on Sunday and my parent’s presence really helped. I’m glad that my dad finally could be present straight after the birth of one of his grandchildren.

Magnus is a very calm baby – hardly cries. He is also very alert and a mere three hours after being born, he was staring at us with a look that could only be decribed as speculation. Clearly wondering if he was really stuck with these two loons as parents!

And then, last but not least, the whole issue of a name: I must confess that I was 99.99% sure Magnus was a boy. And it freaked me out, because we had no name for him. Then, the night before he was born, I was reading a collection of short stories by Rosamunde Pilcher – pure light fluff – not being able to sleep. And one of the tall dark and handsome heros was called Magnus. Hmmm, I thought, nice name…Of course, the first thing the doctors asked after his birth was what we were going to call him. And I had to confess that, ummmm, we didn’t have the foggiest idea. Very embarrasing. As I was being wheeled out of the lift to my room, Dirk also asked me – rather panicky – what we were going to call him. And to my own great surprise I answered… Magnus. Dirk seemed amused: “You know it’s Latin for “big”?”, he asked. No, I didn’t, but rather appropriate, don’t you think? Although, big as in “great” would be more accurate. Also “priviledged” . Jer 33:3 says:”Call to Me, and I will show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.”

As we expected Marco thought “the baby” was Loren. And he was heartbreakingly disappointed the day we brought Magnus home without Loren. He greeted Magnus with great joy, but then ran to the back of the car, peering at the back seat: “Where’s Loren?” he asked.

And I suppose this is in a way how all of us feel. Joyful, but sad. Wishing for what cannot be. Reality is: Two healthy beautiful boys – and a grave. And we’ve no choice but to accept this.

But we can also choose to remember all the blessings he brought us. And to tell Magnus about a brother with red hair and blue eyes waiting for all of us in heaven.