April 20, 2021

Dear Charlie Bird,

After our time in West Virginia, you allowed your mom and me to have a week of relative normalcy at home. After meeting with doctors, your mom was placed on partial bed-rest, essentially meaning she had to "take it easy." The day we got home from West Virginia, we both took the biggest nap of our lives (I was particularly happy to be sharing a bed that was bigger than a twin). In the days that followed, we started mentally and physically preparing for your arrival on July 7.

On Monday, April 19, I went back to work at Hudsonville High School, where I teach social studies. My students had many questions about why I was out of school the previous week. I let them know about our West Virginia scare, but assured them I was back for the long run. It felt amazing to be back in my routine, and your mom enjoyed getting back to work at home. That night, I had to stay at school for parent-teacher conferences, so your mom went to Grandma K's and Granddad's house for dinner. When I got home, I ate some leftovers and went to sleep, ready for another day of work.

Each morning, my alarm goes off well before your mom's alarm. I wake up, go through my morning routine, and kiss your mom goodbye before she even wakes. On Tuesday, April 20, nothing was different. I kissed your mom goodbye, hopped in the car, and headed off to school. When I was a mile down the road, your mom called, and as soon as I answered, I heard the concern in her voice. "I'm bleeding again."

Quickly, I turned the car around and rushed home. Mom got in the car and we headed to the hospital, knowing that this bleed probably meant we would be in the hospital long-term due to the Placenta Previa. Upon arrival at the emergency room, the doctors found some more blood clots in your mom. We were moved to a normal room on the Labor & Delivery floor. Your mom received an ultrasound, and then we settled in for the day.

Charlie, there is something you need to know about your mom: she loves to have a sense of control in any situation. This is why she HATES flying -- she isn't the one flying the plane. This is why she always comments on my flawless driving -- she isn't the one in control. But this is not a bad thing, because when your mom does take control in a situation, she does not hesitate and she always makes the best decision. Anyway, I tell you this because your mom's need for control also leads her to being a serial "Google Doctor," meaning she loves Googling symptoms and diagnosing herself. While I may think this is not ideal, I had been amazed at her ability to be pretty accurate since West Virginia. When her ultrasound results came back to tell us that she, in fact, did NOT have a Placenta Previa, but instead a hematoma in her uterus, your mom breathed a sigh of relief. (Now, these results came to her MyHealth App first, so her self-diagnosis came before doctors came in to talk with us.) According to Google, and later the Doctors, a hematoma was a less worrisome medical condition. Simply, a hematoma is basically a bruise, and the doctors believed that the bleeding your Mom had was just her passing the clots of the hematoma. Out of precaution, they started her on Magnesium to help your neurological capabilities just in case she had to deliver you, but the prognosis seemed promising, and we both thought we would be going home in the morning.

It is amazing how things work in our world, sometimes. The previous week in West Virginia, the doctors took a similar precautionary approach and gave your mom two betamethasone shots, which are steroids to help your lungs develop faster in case of a premature birth. So within the course of a week, your mom was given meds to strengthen your lungs and your neurological functioning, even though we expected them to not be necessary. These meds made your mom feel pretty crummy -- the magnesium made her feel like, and I quote, she "was laying on the surface of the sun." Nevertheless, we were thrilled to receive word that the hematoma was most likely passing, which meant we would probably be able to go home the next day. Your mom was allowed to eat, so she ordered some chicken tenders and celebrated the unexpected change. Because I had already missed a week of work, I went home to get a change of clothes, as I expected to be leaving the hospital on the morning of Wednesday, April 21 to head to Hudsonville to teach.

As I was gathering our things from home, I received a text from your mom that read, "I'm bleeding again." I rushed back to the hospital only to find the doctors there checking on Mom. She was passing more blood clots, but this time, the bleeding did not stop. As someone who does not particularly enjoy the sight of blood, this stretch of a few hours was NOT fun to watch (but I had nothing to complain about, since I was not the one actually bleeding). The bleeding persisted, and your Grandma K came in to visit. Your mom started to voice some concern about the bleeding, wondering if it was actually getting better. She even started to say that she wanted you to be born before you or her were in major distress. The Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor came in to talk with your mom about the possibility of giving Mom blood transfusions to counteract the bleeding, since every single day and week you remained in Mom was good for you. However, your mom's conviction came back into play, as she told the doctors adamantly that the bleeding was getting worse, and that she wanted you born before any major complications arose. The MFM doctor performed another ultrasound, and immediately she saw that the hematoma had tripled in size. At that point, the doctors agreed with Mom that delivery was the option. I guess a mother's intuition is a real thing...

Throughout this whole adventure, your mom and I have constantly talked about the serendipitous nature of way events unfolded. First, what are the chances that we ended up in Charleston, WV with an amazing Women's and Children's hospital? What if we had been caught up in that hour-long traffic jam that Waze allowed us to avoid? What if your mom had not received those beta shots to strengthen your lungs? What if we hadn't been able to make it home to Grand Rapids? What if there wasn't an amazing hospital system in Grand Rapids, 10 minutes from our house? What if your mom hadn't received the magnesium that made her feel like she was hallucinating? There are so many what-if's that went our way. That is beyond miraculous.

The next "what-if" cemented home the fact that your birth was just meant to be. The decision to deliver happened around 7:00pm, which is typically the time of shift changes at the hospital. At 7:00pm, it just so happened that your mom's doctor, Dr. White (who we both love), was starting her final night shift "for a while" since she was pregnant herself. That meant that Dr. White would be performing your mom's emergency C-Section. You should have seen your Mom's face. At that point, she was so calm and so ready to meet you.

Again, your mom is amazing. It was HER decision to move ahead with this delivery. She knew deep down that you would be OK, despite your premature birth. She could tell you were strong. Throughout our three nights in West Virginia, your heart rate never wavered. You were always a "mover and a shaker," constantly letting Mom know you were there with little kicks and shimmies. At that point in time, your mom was strong, you were strong, and your mom KNEW your early birth was meant to be. How she knew that, I'll never know. But I am beyond thankful that your mom took control in that situation. She knows best, and always will.

Once the decision was made, things moved SO fast. Dr. White came in and yelled, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" She saw the confidence in your mom's eyes and the tears in your dad's eyes. That's right... Your dad was crying. This shouldn't be surprising to you. I've done this many times... When my Hope basketball career ended, when your Uncle Teddy won the state championship in Indiana, when I first saw your mom walking down the aisle on our wedding day... The list goes on and on. Well, at this point, I couldn't stop crying. It was a combination of being happy, scared, nervous, excited all at once. Dr. White saw my tears, gave me a hug, and they wheeled your mom away to prep her for surgery. Thankfully, your Grandma K was in the room with me as a I paced the room, dry-heaved over the toilet (I only do this when I'm anxious or after I drink coffee on an empty stomach), and bounced a stress ball that the nurses gave me. Grandma K gave me a pep talk, told me to have the "eye of the tiger," and before long, I joined your mom in the operating room. The doctors and nurses had a chair for me because Mom told them I wasn't good around blood. Again, I am amazed at your mom's ability to control a situation.

In the operating room, two different teams of doctors and nurses confidently controlled the situation. We had the labor and delivery team working on your mom, cutting her open to get to you. Then we had the NICU team ready for your arrival. And you know what's cool? Both teams consisted of ALL women. How cool is that? Maybe you'll be working in a room like that, someday.

At 8:18pm, Dr. White pulled you out and your mom and I heard the tiniest cries we've ever heard. It was you, Charlie Bird! You came out breathing on your own and making your presence known. The NICU team whisked you to your little nest to keep you warm, weigh you, and get you ready for your transfer to the Small Baby Unit. You weighed 2 lbs. 1 oz (a number that your mom and I were proud of!) and you were 14 inches long.

The nurses called me over, and I, hesitant at first, summed up the courage to cut your umbilical cord.

Then, they brought you over to meet your mom for the first time.

At that point, it was time to go to your NICU nest. I kissed your mom on the head, told her how proud I was of her, and walked with you to your new room. In the Small Baby Unit, I think the nurses could see the shock and fear in my eyes. They got me a chair, some coffee, and directed me to take as many pictures as possible.

Outside of the NICU, with tears in my eyes, I called my mom, your "Gigi," and congratulated her on becoming a grandma! She wasn't allowed in the hospital that night because of COVID, but she was sitting in her car outside waiting for the call. Then, I called Poppy and congratulated him, too. He came up the next day to be with us. You were the first grandchild on BOTH sides of the family, which simply magnifies how much you are loved.

That night, your mom didn't sleep a wink. Our new reality started to hit home a bit. We were starting to wrap our mind the fact that you would be in the NICU for a while as you continued to grow. Your mom and I both experienced the roller coaster of emotions: the joy of your birth, the excitement of meeting you, the fear of what was next, the anxiousness of the unknown. Regardless of how we were feeling, the one constant thing we felt was elation, as we finally got to meet our baby girl, even though it was three months earlier than expected.

At 8:18pm, on April 20, 2021, you changed our lives forever, Charlie Bird. When your mom told the doctors that you needed to be delivered, she knew you would be strong, and by your cries and your breaths, you made it known that you were stronger than any of us could have known. Thank you for being so tough, and thank you for making us parents.

Love, Dad