The first week of his life was all kinds of crazy . . . the night before he was born, Josh and Caroline and I holed up in the house and cuddled and enjoyed our last night together as a family of 3. We watched the Superbowl and during half-time I asked Josh if we could run to Walgreens to get some nail poish (can't be birthing a baby with necked toenails!). Does anyone know what we missed while I was buying that bright red polish?
Only the most talked about incident for years. It spurned it's own term that has been repeated over and over again and will forever be a part of our vernacular.
We missed the infamous Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction.
The next morning, we got up early for my induction and my mom came over to hang out until Caroline woke up. I had been having contractions off and on since about 20 weeks. Some of them seemed longer than others and, of course, they got more and more uncomfortable the last couple of weeks, but they were nothing a few breaths and maybe a squat couldn't handle. With Caroline, I was induced at 5:30 and delivered about 12 hours later after 1.5 hours of pushing and her finaling being suctioned out. She was that typical first baby, with sloooooow labor. I expected the same with Tru, but when we got to the hospital we found out that Tru had planned on coming that day, induction or not. The nurse asked me if I knew that I was in active labor and I told her I thought I was having long contractions every 10 or 15 minutes. Nope, I was having regular contractions every 5 minutes and was dialated to a 5 already. We got that epidural doc in there quick and by 11:30 and just 3 little pushes, Thomas Truitt Bass busted into our lives.
We were in love. He was small and cute and we went nuts with blue blankets and blue gowns. Caroline adored him. We were so thankful.
2 days later, in a wash of postpartum hormones, we came home as a family of 4 and I sat on the stairs looking at him and Caroline and wondering what the heck I had gotten myself into. I alternated between laughing and crying for a good 20 minutes. Poor Sissy laughed and cried right along with me, also unsure of what was going on.
Tru was born on a Monday and by Thursday, we were tired. Josh and I were sitting in our bed around 11:00 that night. I think (and this makes me laugh) we had watched the Friends and ER episodes we had taped on our VCR earlier that night. Anyway, I nursed Tru and put him on my shoulder to burp. He let out a big one and then a HUGE spit up followed. I pulled him away and before I could even ask Josh for a towel I started screaming--instead of being covered in milky spit up, Tru and I were both covered in BLOOD. I have never seen so much blood. His outfit was soaked, I was soaked. I kind of threw him at Josh and jumped up to put some clothes on. Somehow, and I honestly don't remember any of these details, we called my parents to come stay with Caroline and in minutes were on our way to Children's Hospital. As I was running to the car, I kept saying, "No, God, no, please no, don't let him be dying. I don't even know him yet!"
My dad is friends with a neonatologist and Terrance was able to calm me down somewhat over the phone while we drove (literally) 100 miles an hour to the hospital. I was sobbing and called my friend, Lea, who had delivered Tru's best friend, Kent, just 2 weeks earlier. I don't know how she understood me, but she did somehow, because not 15 minutes after we got to the ER, her husband, Tim, was there with us too.
When we got into the ER lobby, a guard tried to stop me so I could walk through the metal detector and on to triage. He took one look at me and Tru covered in blood and with a horrified look, opened the doors straight back to the rooms. I was met by several doctors immediately and by the grace of God (and the condition Tru and I were in) none of them suggested we go about this according to policy and start with triage. Instead, they ushered us into one of the big ER rooms with all the equipment, gently took Tru from me and started working on him. Someone brought me a scrub shirt so I could changed out of my bloody clothes. I still have that shirt and his pajamas. I never washed them--just left them in the big plastic bag and tucked them away with all his baby stuff.
LOOOOOONG story short, they drained his stomach, pricked and prodded him, checked him over from head to toe, took my blood in the process and were absolutely wonderful to us. Kind and caring, they kept us updated. They never asked us to leave, they let my dad and Tim stay with us as long as we wanted them to be there and helped us stay as calm as possible. Turns out, he burst a blood vessel in me while nursing (I thought nursing him was more painful than I remembered with Caroline, but who knew?) and instead of drinking breast milk, he got a stomach full of my blood. Nice, right? Sorry for the TMI. The idea of testing my blood to compare it to the blood they drained from his tummy came after them not being able to find anything wrong with him right away and wanting to rule out something benign before they started getting more aggressive with their investigation of the 4 day old baby. Praise the Lord, the blood in his stomach was mine. Other reasons for vomiting blood (especially at that young of an age) are not so good.
I met with a lactation specialist the next day and he was on formula for a few days to give me a chance to heal. I will admit that I fought emotionally holding him at arm's length after that for a few days. Loving someone that much and fearing for their life like that is hard and it took some time to breathe normally again.
Tru's first year was a roller coaster. Literally, the week we paid that ER bill, we were back in the ER because he wasn't breathing. Once again, we drove like maniacs to the hospital and bipassed the guard station and triage. Paid that bill and he went back for croup. Paid that bill and he went back for bronciolitis. I told the lady at check in that time, that we would NOT be paying this bill because it was bad luck. They would have to get over it--I was tired of taking my baby to the hospital.
But, oh my, that sweet boy. He is so smart and so funny. He belly laughs so hard at things, that you would have to be made of stone NOT to laugh too. He is sensitive and affectionate. He looks so handsom and adorable in his glasses. He LIKES to be different--he cannot stand dressing anything close to the same way as Bo for anything. He wants to keep his glasses and never get contacts because he loves being a little different. He has a great sense of humor and can figure things out that still stump me. In the last few months, he has really been stepping up his responsibility game and is waking himself up and laying his clothes the night before. He is an outstanding kid!
Tru Budders, I love you so much. Daddy and I are so proud of you and so fortunate to get to be your parents. You are going to do great things and you are going to be a man of God. Happy Birthday! I can't wait to celebrate you at LEGO LAND!!!!!!!!!!!
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