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©May 2003

Carol Jane Remsburg



Dylan is Born





Our baby boy has arrived and we rejoice as a family for it is indeed a joyous occasion.  His name is Dylan James and he's the first boy into our family in a long time. 


He was about three days late, not bad for a first-born, as they are notoriously late.  Dylan weighed in at 7 pounds 3 ½ ounces and was 19 ½" long—blonde, beautiful, and healthy.


With so many other family members in attendance, from mother, father, and the inlaws along with the siblings and best friends, sometimes aunties have to take a back seat to the proceedings.  I got word by 3 PM from my daughter, just home from school—that Sammi was in the hospital.  Once I left work, I rushed home to pick up my daughter so we could see her while hubby stayed home. Childbirth is DEFINITELY not his thing.  While he is brave about so much in this world—he's positively squeamish at even the thought of any female machinations—like childbirth or periods or surgeries.


Erin and I hurried into town to the hospital and to the maternity/labor ward.  We opened the door to the waiting room to find almost a dozen people and ALL were waiting for little Dylan.  I knew then there were way too many people there and we couldn't stay for the announcement because if we did stay it would be difficult NOT to try to go in and visit as all others were taking turns.


I swear it felt like an Olympic event and each visitor was at the ready.  It almost made me glad that my daughter's birth was a emergency C-section and only one person could be there—who turned out to be my sister as hubby did the 50's fashion of pacing the waiting room.  Had I to endure a labor event with a revolving door of guests and visitors as though it was some kind of fancy, elite reception—I would have screamed.  How Sammi stood it I don't know, I still don't. 


Erin and I made one very brief visit.  I gave Sammi a hug and a kiss and told her we'd await the news at home.  I only wished some others did.  There were simply too many people and their kids going in and out.  This wasn't supposed to be the weird mirror show at the carnival; but it felt like it was going to be for her. 


I had hopes it wouldn't, prayed it wouldn't, but of course it did.


Erin and I left at 6:30PM after giving stern instructions to Sammi's sister, Jamie, to call me as soon as the baby was born.  We went home.  Once home, I began to wait by the phone.  When we left she was fully dilated and the doctor had instructed to wait until 8 PM for the big push. 


9 PM came and went, so did 10 PM, and then 11 PM.  Cellphones being a big "no-no" in the hospital, I couldn't call.  I was nearly frantic with the wait.  Then, at 11:28 PM—the call came.  Dylan was born. Dylan was healthy.  Mommy, Sam, had a rough go, but was doing well.


With that information, I could sleep.  I just didn't know what was to happen in the aftermath that would cause me to lose sleep later.


From before birth, Sammi and Cory were surrounded.  No, a more apt term would be smothered by not only parents, but in-laws, and friends and family.  People simply hovered.  It was too much.


I knew then it would be a long time before I intruded.  I simply couldn't be part of the mass of family that overwhelmed the little nuclear family. 


So many firsts you miss that way—and how I remember them; the first feeding, the first diaper change, the homecoming, the first bath.  Some events ought to be shared only by that little nuclear family of mother, father, and child.  This little family didn't stand a chance.


The details you don't need simply because I'm still too steamed to politely discuss them—but consider a 'homecoming' into your own home where someone has packed in about 14 people—including rampant little kids—into a small 2-bedroom apartment and decides to cook up a big family dinner as if it were a party occasion.  This isn't one of those times—or shouldn't be.


I have to give both parents the nod at their fortitude on that day.  The next few days were much of the same—so our little family held back on our welcomes in major frustration.


I wanted so much to hold my little Sammi's boy—she is so dear to me.


Days passed and I called and checked, and they continued to have company.  I figured that by Sunday, maybe, it would work out and we could visit.


Friday night, I'm finally home and then I hear car doors shut outside.


Sammi and Cory had brought their son to us.  I was so overwhelmed. 


Dylan is beautiful—just like both of his parents. 


I have no doubt that Dylan will grow to be strong and smart and just as caring as both of his parents. 


Sometimes we need reminders of the good things in life.  This is one of them.  I hope you have yours too.


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