Archives: Fatherhood

Introducing to the World, Victoria Valentina Lizzi

Saturday took a more eventful turn than anticipated. After celebrating my wife Isa’s birthday on Friday I assumed I’d disposed of family birthdays for awhile. But the little one who’d been gestating in Isa for over thirty-seven weeks had other ideas.

Not that we’d been bereft of portents. The signs of impending arrival were there, but the contractions were nowhere near the frequency we’d been told indicated labor. Some disconcerting physical manifestations convinced Isa to call the doctor. The doctor suggested she come in for a precautionary exam. Everything was routine, precautionary, just-in-case. We figured we be home by the afternoon.

Nope.

Your standard labor is filled with sufficient drama as is. We weren’t asking for any theatrical upgrades. Got ‘em anyways, gratis. High blood pressure, magnesium sulphate drips, dislodged placenta. Then, many hours later…

A large room crammed with doctors and nurses. Your humble web logger as supernumary, dressed for a NASA clean room. Beeping equipment (though sadly absent the machine that goes “bing”), muttered medical jargon, flashes and glimpses of viscera – things externalized that should best remain internalized. Then…

Victoria Valentina Lizzi. A miniature human being. Quite miniature: about a jigger short of four pounds. Tiny but perfect.

The doctors scooped the innards back into Isa – all the pieces in order, one hopes – and stapled her shut. She’s had a chance to hold little V.V., but given our daughter’s current minuscule proportions the two currently occupy separate rooms. I’m sharing a post-partum room with Isa while V.V. enjoys the company of her peers in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

So, yeah, interesting Saturday. I’m a father. Wrap your head around that one.

It's a Girl!

I bought a crib yesterday. And a changing table. And other assorted items deemed indispensable for a newborn. The reality is still sinking in. Slowly: the density and relatively non-porous nature of my thick head renders comprehension a glacial process. But it is undeniable. I am going to be a father.

I’ve extended my adolescence longer than most, I suppose. Time to take a stab at adulthood. Any advice? I’m not, honestly, overly concerned. I’ve muddled my way through life with some degree of success, making it up as I went along. Less qualified people than I have become perfectly serviceable parents. I can do this. Right?

I still intend to make time for writing. I will continue to reach my word count. Plug away at the work-in-progress until it is finished, then move on to the next. Only now I have that much more incentive. My daughter deserves the best from me.

OK, there. I think that was a twinge of anxiety. Or maybe just hunger. Yeah, probably just hunger. Time for lunch.