Meeting Amanda

It’s been well over three years now since the first time I saw the woman who would become my wife. I’ll never forget that day, and I am forever grateful for the circumstances that put me in that moment. In the beginning, she tried to push me away. After several coffee dates, we both knew we wanted to take things further, we just didn’t know how. She was married, albeit unhappily. Every time she tried to break up with me (even though we weren’t dating), and thus break my heart, I uttered only one simple response, “No.” I knew she was special; I knew it was her. It was never perfect, but from the start I battled to keep her hand in mine, and I went to all ends to fight for her, and to take her away from anguish, to lead her to a life of love. Things moved quickly.

After dating only three months, we moved in together, and three months later we purchased a home. We sorted out our previous lives, and made sacrifices for the greater good, and I took the role of step-dad with absolute uncertainty I could live up to the title. I was given a responsibility that was far above anything I had been entrusted with, and I vowed to myself I would do better than my father had. That shouldn’t have been a problem, I had no dad. I didn’t know how to do it, though, and I had no guidance. I just knew that I wanted to be there for them, and to have fun with them, and to this day, I believe I still succeed in that. The girls bring me laughter and chaos every waking minute. They frustrate me to my absolute limits, and laugh at me when I’m an idiot. They are just like me. They are my daughters, and that will never change.

We have been a family in this house for over two years now. The madness of meeting each other while living together has settled and we feel like a solid team. It was rough in the beginning. As adults, we each had our own set of expectations which we didn’t connect well. There was tension, there were some days we didn’t communicate at all, and there were some days I questioned my decisions. But it all paid off with patience, tenacity, and acceptance. I looked back to my 4th step and saw that it was my only duty to look for and fix the mistakes I made, and continue to try to be good even when I don’t agree with something. It’s tougher than it sounds, that’s probably why it works. Now when issues arise, I talk about it, even when the wife doesn’t want to: I’m cleaning house metaphorically. I don’t physically clean the house as much as she would like, but I work on that, and I know I’ve gotten better at it.

Tomorrow, we will take an early-morning drive to the hospital where Amanda will hopefully give birth to our beautiful, healthy, little baby girl. It was supposed to be today that she was induced, but the beds were full, so we were sent home. Little Elsee will be born into a world full of mystery and wonder. She will have everything she needs, and be comforted by the surroundings and love that we have built up for her.

Daddy will be present, sober, and complete. Mommy will probably start drinking wine pretty much right away, but not in a bad way, just like a, “Thank God that’s fuckin’ over” sort of way. Either way, I’m in a place in life where I know I can responsibly raise a child. I don’t know that that’s quite hit yet, but it will. People trust me with money, children, pets, vehicles, a house, bills, and even a Post Office box. I feel like I’m in a good enough place to have a tiny little life in my hands and not fuck it up.

When I saw her three years ago, and I knew it was her, this is where I wanted to be, and here I am. My wife and mother-in-law are upstairs, so I’ll put the writing down for now. My next paragraph will be the rest of my life in a few sentences, and the story of me will continue on.

10/23/2020

Yesterday I witnessed the single most incredible event in my lifetime: the birth of my beautiful baby girl. We had been pushed off by two days for induction because of other mothers needing rooms, so we were skeptical even when we called at 5am to make sure we had a spot in an hour, but we went in and they got us a room. An hour after we arrived, they had her hooked up to Pitocin, and it would be only a matter of hours. I wasn’t prepared to hear the baby’s heartbeat for hours. It was incredibly soothing, and I got a little demanding of the nurse when the sound went away briefly after we walked the halls and the sensor moved. Alas, baby was alive and well in her liquid apartment, soon to be burst.

They up the dosage every half hour until the contractions become closer in frequency, and after three adjustments, her water broke and Amanda began to have significant tightening, and called for the epidural. When the anesthesiologist arrived, she prepped her syringe, then Amanda, and with needle in hand, stopped cold as Amanda doubled over in excruciating pain. She cried in agony and the nurse called for the doctor and asked that Amanda lay down. When she did, she exclaimed, “She’s here!” The head was already crowning. I ran to the top of the bed and Amanda grabbed my hand and squeezed as hard as she could while she writhed in agony. The anesthesiologist put the needle back and began to assist the nurse and we all encouraged Amanda to push as hard as she could while we held her legs back, her head up, and supported the first few inches of the baby. After a push and violent scream, I saw her head and heard her cry for the first time. I composed myself and told Amanda to breathe. The nurse said that the baby’s arm was also lodged out and above the head, and that she really needed to push hard this time. Amanda let out one final—primal—scream and our new little life entered this world in a torrent of amniotic fluid, blood, and other slimy stuff. For the first time in her seventeen-year career, the nurse delivered a baby without a doctor present. Amanda went pale and laid her head back in relief and probably necessity. In 45 seconds, we went from maybe, to baby. I was asked to cut the umbilical cord, which I wasn’t sure I could handle, but in the moment, I did. One thing I was not prepared for was how casually the doctor played around with the placenta in a metal dish on the table. It resembled clotted crimson spaghetti, and I half expected Dr. to take a bite. She didn’t.

I titled this post Meeting Amanda about two weeks ago, and I wanted to give a brief timeline of us, and to sort of tell the tale that got us here and then segue into the story of our new baby. What I didn’t know until yesterday, is that I truly had not met the wife and mother of my child until she gave birth without the aid of pain relief. Something in me changed when I saw her in pain, and I knew it was natural, and billions of women have done this before, but nobody had done that for me, for our family. I saw in her a warrior, a champion, an absolute fighter. I knew then that meeting Amanda had taken over three years, and I knew that now she was capable of absolutely anything. She is my star, and she gave me my light.

Elsee Anne Maertz was born on October 22nd, 2020. She was covered in white stuff, blood, and water. She cried from the get-go. She had nearly a full head of hair. She still does, I’m not sure why I’m doing this in past tense. She weighed seven-and-a-half pounds, and was just under twenty inches in length. She is the most beautiful creation I have ever set my eyes upon.

My gaze alternated between Elsee and Amanda. I wanted more than anything to hold my kin close; to bond with her immediately. But Amanda was recuperating and needed my love and encouragement, so I went over to her. Twelve seconds later, the doctor, who had arrived shortly after the baby had, said that the placenta was coming, and I decided that baby needed me more.

When I saw little Elsee crying and alone on the little table, I felt just as helpless as she looked. I have absolutely no idea what to do. As if prodded by instinct, I gently cupped my hand over her head and said, “I love you, little Elsee.” And she quietly gave up her argument against the cold and lonely new world. I stroked the soft tufts of thin dark hair on her fragile head, and comforted her until the nurses took over.

The next twenty-four hours was sleep-deprived and full of testing, questions, poking, prodding, pulling, and signing. I changed my first newborn-baby poop diapers-five of them-and Amanda successfully breast-fed her to her content. I watched her open her eyes and explore our world for the very first time. I heard her fart.

Everything checked out, so we checked out, and arrived home just a few hours ago. Time is flying. Everybody says time will fly, so be in the moment, so I took pictures and am writing this so I will never forget. The rest of my waking moments will revolve around my family. There are five of us here now in the big house on the corner. Five human beings. Five more than I was ever responsible enough to care for a little over six years ago. A lot can change in the blink of an eye. I plan to be here for all of it.

I love you, little girl. You made me proud today, and you made me love your mommy even more. We’re all in this together, but until you can fend for yourself, I will protect you, keep you, and love you. You will always know that we love you. She is my star, you are my light.