A New Baby with New Beginnings

It’s got to be hard to be a third child. Always searching for ways to steal attention or make yourself heard. Fighting for a spot in the limelight when that light has belonged to two others for so long. Convincing your mom to buy you a new outfit that actually isn’t handed down from her cousins’ cousin’s seventh baby. I suppose everything must be done with a BANG, WOOP and WOW, and that, my friends, is exactly how our new baby boy decided to enter the world.

I’m so very proud and excited to announce the arrival of Rhett Andrew, the newest addition to the Brunner family. He made his appearance at 10:08am on October 28 at M Health Fairview Riverside Hospital, weighing in at 7 pounds, 11 ounces and stretching a mighty 20 inches in length. Amazingly, he is our family runt (yes, I know…I grow ’em hefty).

I don’t need to tell you his entire birth story – I’ll save that for his baby book – but due to a “bottoming out placenta” and low blood sugars, my OB told me at 4:30pm that I was going to have a baby the next morning at 8:30am. Considering he wasn’t due for another four weeks, you better believe that set a scalding fire under my enormously pregnant ass. My husband and I spent the next eight hours finding people to watch our kids and let out our dog, packing hospital bags, wrapping up work projects, cleaning the house, and loving on the two littles we already had at home since these were our final hours as a family of four.

I’ll save you the details of the C-section. There were needles and IVs and a couple moments when I thought I was going to barf all over myself. There were a million doctors in blue scrubs with smiling, reassuring faces that continued to tell me what a great job I was doing. There were moments of fear when I couldn’t move my legs or feel my fingers or that one time when I felt the OB place something heavy back into my body (never question at that point – the answer might be “that’s just your uterus” and you will forever be mentally scarred). Then there was the moment when he came out and I got to see him for the first time through the clear screen, coated in white and red with a face that was identical to that of his big sister. And the moment when my husband brought him around the corner so I could lay him on my chest and feel his warmth and truly connect with my babiest baby boy. There were tears and smiles and tiny little smirks from his lips. There were glances between myself and Nate that I can’t describe using words…only feelings…the most beautiful of feelings. There was an anesthetist who snapped all of our photos who got teary-eyed right along with us, maybe because she too sensed the realism of the moment. The last time we would share a moment just like this one. It was a miracle and it was over and we were happy.

Our day, which had already been mighty emotional, took a turn for the teary side while we waited in the recovery room. My husband fed him bottles and I tried to regain feeling in my body while the nurses and doctors went about their business taking vitals. One of those vitals was blood sugar, of which little Rhett just was not mastering very well. His blood sugar went from 20 to 25 and back down to 20. His big body was still technically considered premature and, between that and his Type I diabetic mama, he couldn’t raise his sugars on his own. We had no warning that this might happen, but all of the sudden we were told that we were going to have a NICU baby. I’ve never had a NICU baby. I’ve heard stories of NICU babies, but had never stepped foot inside an intensive care unit specifically designed for babies… I had no idea what that meant.

They started out as teensy weensy baby tears in the corners of my eyes, but by the time he left our room they were full-on alligator tears that were accompanied by heavy breathing and Hulk noises. Anger and fear and, well, just mostly fear. I was assured over and over that he was going to be fine, but c’mon – I had just worked so ungodly hard to get him out – an ugly cry was a surefire thing at this stage in the game. So I ugly cried. All day actually. All freaking day.

At 9pm that night, my husband and I went down to visit him. Directly inside the door of Nursery #2 lay the biggest baby in the NICU – our baby. Of course I cried upon seeing him. I mean, he had cords and wires and sensors everywhere, not to mention an IV in his head (and to think, I complained about the one in my hand). For the first time, I played with his fingers and ruffled his hair and kissed his nose. It was a wonderful hour, but it brought me sadness too. I wanted him in our room and it just wasn’t fair. But then I looked around the NICU at all the other babies, then looked back at my own, I felt grateful. Compared to those other babies, Rhett was big enough. Strong enough. Developed enough. Warm enough. There were babies with heart defects and ineffective lungs and internal illnesses. Every one of them was in an incubator but our little boy and this gave me an overall change of perspective.

The neighboring incubator baby was named Benjamin. He had been in the NICU for 25 days and was still weighing in at less than three pounds. His mommy could touch him through a small door in his bed but I never saw her hold him. He was curled up tiny and comfortably, but man was he small.

That night we headed back to our room and I lay in bed with a total change of attitude. Our baby was doing all the right things and was on projectile to be discharged within 48 hours. I would get some rest and allow my body to heal while he got wonderful treatment and allowed his sugars to level out. It was good for everyone, and we knew an end was in sight. That night changed my mentality and all I could think about were those other babies. Those other parents. All of those other struggles. My heart hurt for them and I wished that everyone could have “problems” like Rhett’s problems. Minor and fixable and over in a few days. I fell asleep early that night and didn’t wake up until 10am…don’t think I’ve done that since I was a teenager. It was sunny outside and I woke with a smile on my face knowing no news is good news so he must be dominating down there!

My husband and I filled that day with a few visitors, cafeteria food, short walks, magazines, a football game and lots of conversations about how life had changed for us overnight. We talked about fears and Halloween and our upcoming trip to Florida. That day I found myself again endlessly thankful for this man I swooned over in high school and somehow got lucky enough to make three of his babies. He’s a keeper and he’s mine to keep!

He accompanied me downstairs to the NICU probably four times that day, not counting the times we escorted our visitors to go see him. I talked to him and HELD him and told him how he was a perfect addition to our family and I never wanted his life to start with an IV in his skull but I’d rip it out if I knew it wasn’t for the best. Going in and out of the NICU all day, I got to meet some of the parents of the other babies and Benjamin’s mom and grandma were there visiting him for the full day. I saw them read him a Curious George book and heard lots of whispering and shushes. They told me he had a growth issue in utero and came out at 29 weeks, just a little over two pounds. I simply couldn’t imagine the fear that would bring and looked down at Rhett, feeling fortunate and almost guilty for sharing such close quarters with baby Ben.

Our final visitors of the day were my cousin Annie and her husband Sonny. Sonny stands at 6’7″ and is a picture of southern hospitality and health. When he joined me in the NICU, he knelt down next to the rocking chair in which I was holding him and after we chatted about the baby, I pointed out other parents that were going through a NICU situation. When I got to Benjamin, I recalled that Sonny was born very premature and came out at less than three pounds nearly 30 years ago. Benjamin’s grandma heard me and turned around in her chair. I saw her and told her, “He started his life just like your grandbaby. And look at him now.” Sonny slowly raised himself off of his knees and stood up, his head nearly touching the NICU ceiling. The grandma looked at Benjamin’s mom, who was sitting behind the curtain and said, “He’s over six feet tall!” Sonny gladly chimed in, “I’m 6’7″, actually.” She gasped and excitedly repeated that fact to her daughter. She asked him about any health problems he had (which were none) and kindly thanked us for telling them that story. I hope it gives them another day of hope that their little man has a light at the end of his tunnel as well, and who knows. Maybe it will be a very, very tall basketball-playing light. That room is all about keeping the faith and raising up spirits. I was happy we were able to do that that night, if only for a moment.

The rest of his story is basically history. Rhett was released the next day as predicted at 4pm. Our kids finally showed up to meet him less than 30 minutes after he got to our room, proudly donning their Big Sis and Bro t-shirts and the special pins we bought them so they could let everyone know their familial roles had just gotten way more serious! They practiced holding him and feeding him and kissing him. This was a moment I was never going to witness again and, my goodness, did it live up to my expectations…and then some. They read him a book they had picked out for him and were repeatedly told not to squeeze his head. They giggled at his hiccups and “awwwww”ed at his yawns. They called him “Baby Rhett” while comparing finger sizes and asking when he will walk, crawl, go to school, talk, and (most importantly) wrestle. I have no words for how it felt to watch my three kiddos bonding on that sunny hospital couch. Absolutely no words.

The Rhett-man came home with us that following afternoon, along with Coen, Mabel, one bag, five balloons, three vases, two pillows, three pill bottles, a laptop, unsurmountable packets of paper, a tiny blue car seat, fear, worry, joy, mass chaos, noise, questions, and a fabulous sense of accomplishment and completion.

That’s our story. It ends in health and happiness. And in this world, for what more could one ask? Welcome Rhett Andrew. I hope you all enjoy what he brings to our table of adventures as much as we will.