Having a newborn is pretty difficult. Understatement? The challenges are diverse and wide-ranging. I don’t believe this is a coincidence.
As Beth and I were driving to the hospital for her to bring a baby into the world – we prayed.
As we waited to get checked into the hospital – I prayed.
As we sat in our first room and Beth’s pain started to increase – I prayed harder.
As we were moved into the delivery room and the miracle began – I prayed constantly.
As I held my new daughter – I prayed, holding back tears of gratitude.
As we took the new member of our family to our hospital room – I prayed.
As we struggled to stay awake and care for her new needs – I prayed.
As we drove home – I prayed.
As we started the first weeks of no sleep, stress, anxiety, and responsibility. As we tried to feed Sage, as we changed her multiple times throughout the night, as we walked around bleary eyed, as she slept on my chest, as she cried in my arms – I pray constantly for help and strength.
As Beth becomes a zombie from lack of sleep – I pray.
As I fall asleep holding Sage – I pray.
As Ivy adjusts to a new sister, the responsibility, and the change to her little world – I pray for her.
As Beth works to breastfeed every 3 hours and continues not to sleep – I pray for her.
As I go back to work, Beth having extreme trepidation – I pray, and I assure her it will be ok.
We’re being looked after.
As Beth texts me, “You must have said a good prayer for us for today. I can’t believe I feel as good as I do right now.” – I pray with so much gratitude.
I know we’re being looked after.
Having and bringing home a newborn is stressful and a momentous responsibility. I don’t think that is a coincidence. I think it’s meant to remind us how much we need Him. I’m grateful for how difficult it is to bring a new baby home because it brings me closer to my Heavenly Father. I have to rely on Him, because I know my strength is nothing, and I know I can’t do it without Him.
I’m grateful for these challenges because they remind me how much I need Him.
A friend of mine wrote a book called Embrace Fatherhood. There is a part in the book where a father has lost the ability to see his new daughter due to a custody battle. Upon finding out he will get to spend a weekend with his daughter he says, “This daddy daughter thing, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It took Brooklyn being born for me to love something far greater than myself.”
I love Beth so much, but I relate to this statement. I think it took Ivy being born for me to understand what unconditional, unbounded, uncontrollable love is. We like to think we love others more than ourselves, but do we? I think I do love Ivy more than myself. I think this is parenthood. I would do anything for her. As a part of that, I love Beth all the more for giving me this priceless gift.
This book is written from the perspective of dads in various forms of relationship disputes, dads that don’t get to see their kids.
I know this is a complicated issue, and I know there are a million different circumstances that make this very difficult. What I will say that I hope we can all agree on: good fathers that want to be in their children’s lives, that for whatever reason aren’t able to, is a great tragedy. I can’t imagine being kept away from Ivy. It would break my heart. It would be like losing a part of me.
Beth and Ivy are in Utah for a week as I write this. Don’t get me wrong, a little bit of free time and the ability to nap and relax like I used to in the old days has been really nice. At the end of the night, though, all I can think about is Ivy and Beth. I miss them so much. I miss that greatest moment every morning. I’m grateful for a picture Beth put up on my bedside table before the trip. I can’t imagine this separation from my baby being a regular occurrence.
I know this situation exists for many dads and it hurts me to think about.
Relationship disputes happen. We are human. I think it is a tragedy of our society that romantic relationships would ever come before or between the most sacred relationship in the world (alongside marriage), the relationship of a parent and their child.
Again, a complicated issue. Having not lived through it myself, I can’t say too much. But I love Ivy. I can’t imagine living without her. There are tons of dads out there right now excited that they will get a weekend to see their child. The disintegration of the family unit is devastating.
I am grateful for Beth, who I love so much. I am grateful for what Beth has given me, the greatest gift in the entire world, Ivy who I love beyond all understanding. I am sorry for any dad that has this gift taken from him.
I love Ivy and I love Beth and I don’t know what I would do without them.
The first 48 hours, it turns out, is not just a homicide drama on television or the most important time after a homicide, it’s also an important time after the birth of a newborn.
The first 24 hours in the hospital went amazing. There’s no better word than amazing. Ivy slept the whole time. Beth would have to wake her to eat. She would eat and immediately go back to sleep. We were warned of the calm before the storm.
Nurses would come in and do this test or that. She cried once when I was holding her for like 5 seconds. She didn’t cry at all during her first bath. She looked like she was enjoying a spa day.
When another nurse pricked her foot for blood I asked if babies usually cried during that. She said, “well, I gave her sugar water.” I don’t know what that means but maybe we should be keeping sugar water on hand. What I do know is there was no crying while at the hospital after her initial couple hours coming into the world.
We brought her home around 4:30pm 12/5/20. Becky (mother-in-law) and Jane (new aunt) were at the condo. Apparently Bengie was disturbed by how we left the previous morning. He had been acting strange while we were away and licked us even crazier than usual when we got home. He didn’t seem to notice the new addition. Yet.
Becky made dinner. Jane held Ivy. Keith (father-in law) came over after his shift at the hospital. Everyone expressed joy at a newborn.
The first night was interesting. While I think she was still pretty well behaved, it’s crazy how small interruptions to sleep can be completely disorienting.
We went to sleep around midnight. Mistake number one. I’ve been told this by many people, but I think I’ll have to learn firsthand. Really – take sleep whenever it’s available. Ivy and I were watching ASU football until 11:30pm. Beth fed her and put her down to sleep around that time.
At 2:00am Ivy started crying. I’ll do my best to replay the events of the night, but Beth and I had great difficulty piecing events together in the morning.
I believe Beth tried to feed her, but she wasn’t really eating. Cluster-feeding? I don’t know.
*Beth update when reading this – she did feed her before I woke up at 2:00am, we think?
Things that happened, order unknown:
Beth made a bottle. Beth passed a blood clot. She was upset and scared and talked to her mom. Determined it was ok unless other symptoms/things happened. Beth was upset and having a hard time. I swapped spots with her and laid by Ivy’s bed, which for the first couple months (I think?) will be lying next to our bed. I fed Ivy half of the bottle Beth prepared.
Ivy was somewhat fussy and always on the verge of crying. Between 2am and 4am I realized she had a very messy diaper. Explained the fussy. I changed Ivy in the other room and laid her back down in her bed. She was much better. I’m not sure if Beth was completely sleeping during this time. I think she was kind of in and out of it. She was exhausted.
I laid with my hand on Ivy or helping to keep her pacifier in which seemed to settle her down. I think I slept around 4am. Again, not sure how things transpired, but at some point I woke up because Ivy was fussing. Looked like she was hungry. I talked to Beth around 5am (maybe?) about Ivy being hungry. I think at some point Beth turned the hot air on in the room. It had gotten cold in the room. I could have sworn I passed Ivy to Beth around 5am to feed but in the morning neither of us could recall if that actually happened. Funny, but being serious.
At some point I was really hot, and Ivy was fine. She was sleeping like a, you guessed it, baby. Really, she was sleeping well. Interesting we use that phrase to indicate deep sleep when in reality sleeping like a baby is more like up every 90 minutes wanting some attention. The living room was cooler, so I curled up on the couch and slept there. Again, at some point (8am?) I woke up to the loud carbon monoxide alarm. It beeped loud, 3 times. I saw Beth coming from the kitchen. I couldn’t fathom why she would make 3 loud beeps happen. She seemed in a haze. She ignored the loud beeping. That confused me more. I learned Bengie was sleeping on my legs. His number one fear is loud beeps. He jumped and ran to the bedroom, under the bed, tried to jump on the bed but Ivy’s bassinette was in the way. He ran back and jumped on me. He repeated this 3 times. I held and pet him and he was shaking like crazy. When I stopped petting, he ran to the bedroom, found his way onto the bed, and burrowed into the blankets.
The new addition was proving to be a major interruption to his routine, peace, and quiet.
**Beth addition number two – “you must have been in a haze too, when the beep went off, I yelled ‘oh –.’” (followed by a bad word).
I am not denying any sort of hazy phase. I was a cloud of confusion.
I guess the morning had started.
Ivy was peaceful as could be, as far as I could tell. She’s been an angel ever since. While writing this she was curled up on my legs/lap in front of me. Already learning to multi-task. Her pacifier just fell out. She likes her pacifier.
I still got to meditate that first day. That was big.
Becky came by and made some food. I decided to fast in gratitude to Heavenly Father for all this.
Beth proofread this and told me to insert “I was a Rockstar” talking about myself. That’s a bit much. Beth’s done all the hard work and is completely exhausted. I’ve gotten to sleep next to Ivy and take care of the most important person in the world. And she’s so cute. And when I sleep, I get to put my hand on her and be with her.
Good deal. I’ll take it.
Ivy may be the “Coo Monster.” She’s constantly coo-ing. It’s heart-melting. The cutest little hums and noises. I love her very much. It’s amazing how much I like caring for her. It’s crazy how exhausted I can be already and yet how happy.
Ivy went on a short walk in her stroller today.
She loves her swing.
She loves if I gently tickle her head or face with my fingers. Her eyes will instantly flutter closed.
Ivy came today. I’m writing this in a bit of a haze. I keep getting told to get used to it.
Beth started having contractions around 2AM this morning. Apparently I asked her if she was OK around 2:30AM. Don’t have a complete recollection of that.
Around 5AM her water broke. We were at the hospital around 6AM. Beth got checked in and I believe was around 3.5cm.
At 6:30AM I received a text from my father-in-law (shout out Keith Cannon), “Of course we’re praying for Beth and Ivy. But also for you. I hope you stay conscious. Good luck.”
Between 6AM and 8:30AM things moved very quickly.
At 7:57AM I texted my mom and told her Beth seemed to be in so much pain. They wanted her to finish some pitocin.
I think it was 8:30AM when they came back in and kind of freaked out. Beth was in excruciating pain and at about 9cm. 10cm (I learned) is what is needed to start delivery.
I started getting our stuff together while they quickly wheeled her to the delivery room. When I came out into the hallway they were gone. I started wandering and came upon a man in scrubs. I asked him if someone came this way and he asked who. I told him he would have known if they did. I walked down the other hall and came up to a nurse. She asked what I was looking for and I said, “the screaming.” She led me to the delivery room.
I texted my mom from the delivery room at 9:07am, “Close.”
They finally got the epidural in at that time which made things drastically better. Beth improved immediately.
From 9:07AM to 9:23AM Beth went from writhing, screaming, and crying in pain to texting my mom. “Epidural has kicked in and I’m 10cm. I’ll probably deliver in an hour or so. They were shocked how fast I was moving.”
I’ve heard over and over about this thing that happens when becoming a father. I can’t emphasize it enough. I can’t say it with adequate enthusiasm or exaggeration.
When I first saw Ivy James Quackenbush my heart expanded, my world flipped upside down. In an instant I realized I would do anything, I would give my life without a second thought and at a moment’s notice for that beautiful soul. She was perfect, so beautiful.
I wish I could put it into words, but they’re not enough. My life as I knew it was over. And I knew it. This little thing was the new center. The center of my universe- along with Beth.
Watching what Beth went through, so much pain, to bring this life into the world. I instantly had something open up inside of me. Appreciation for my mother. ‘She went through this for me?!?!’ Love and awe at the strength of my wife and all women. How can a man walk out on a wife after seeing her bring the most important thing in the world, into the world? I thought of so many mothers – Eve, Mary, my mom, my wife. My Ivy.
How can women be treated the way they are in the world when they are the entire world? They’re why we’re all here.
I loved these two in a way I didn’t know was possible.
I couldn’t stop staring at Ivy. The gravitational pull of the universe had changed.
Beth held her and she screamed. Let the record show I cut the cord. She screamed and it was simultaneously the most fascinating and most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I didn’t know a scream could be so powerful.
I put my finger out and Ivy grabbed. She stopped screaming. The nurses started to take her for measurements and she wouldn’t let go of my finger. My heart!
I followed her. The thoughts I hadn’t let start because her coming had always been surreal started to flood my mind: I’m going to play basketball with her. I hope she loves basketball. We’ll play together. We’ll be best friends. I hope I never hurt her. I hope I can always protect her.
How does Heavenly Father love me? I’m a little closer to understanding today. I’m a little closer to understanding what true love is.
Ivy James Quackenbush and Elisabeth Brooke Quackenbush. My family.
No Coincidences 