Max

Weighing in at a stout 6 lbs. 8 oz. and 19 in., Bryon Maxwell ("Max") Livingston was born 4:20 am on Friday, October 29 (Happy Birthday Blake).  (Pictures, of course, are below for those, like me, who would rather just look at the pictures).

Miranda had been having minor contractions all day on Thursday.  They got a little closer together and a little more severe as the day progressed, but they were nothing she couldn't talk through.  Around 8 or 9 Thursday evening (I know, because it interrupted "The Office") Miranda began to feel stronger contractions that were coming only minutes apart.  She felt eventually that they were strong enough that we decided to go the hospital (The Office would have to wait).  

The drive to the hospital is supposed to take about 45 minutes.  This was my time to shine.  I swear I got us there in about 20, even though we were slowed by a traffic jam on the highway (at 10 on a Thursday night?! C'mon, people).  The traffic jam didn't slow us too much, though, as we called 911 to tell them that I had a laboring woman in the car, and that if they didn't do something about the traffic, it would be them that would have to hold Miranda's hand during the next contraction.  They obliged.  They had us drive along the shoulder until we reached where the accident had taken place, and we merrily went on our way.  Except it wasn't too merry for Miranda.  It was very hard for her to get comfortable, but she made it.  

We arrive at the hospital a little after 10.  Miranda was dilated at around 2 or 3.  Not encouraging.  The nurses said they could keep an eye on us for a few hours, and if she did not reach a 4, we'd be sent packing.  The contractions came equally frequently, and were lasting for longer and longer.  After about two hours, the nurses came back in to check her, and to make the final decision.  While they were waiting to finish the contraction she was experiencing as the nurses were waiting, her water broke.  Hooray!  We could stay!  

But the water breaking was the beginning of the end.  To make a long story short, after the water broke, something must have happened that was really cramping Max's style.  A position that may have been comfortable to Miranda was not comfortable for the baby, as his heart was constantly beating at between very high and very low rates.  For the next four hours, the staff tried every trick in the book to stabilize the baby's heart rate, but to no avail.  Eventually, we agreed to an epidural, and after that did not work to stabilize his heart rate, we agreed to a c-section.  Then the magic happened (the Austin Collie kind of magic).  

Unfortunately, though, Max was born with a bunch of gunk in his airway.  After they cleaned him off, he received a brief kiss from his mother, and he and I were off to the nursery.  He was having to work to breathe, and so he was given oxygen.  Because there were other conditions that gave rise to other risk factors, he was also given an IV.  Luckily though, he recovered well, he is breathing normally, he was finally able to feed and we're waiting to be done with the antibiotics so he can join us in our room.  He's awesome.  He likes heat (but not the Miami kind, because he was, after all, born in Cleveland), diapers, BYU Football, and is aspiring to be an attorney like his father.  He also hates Utes (because they are classless, and because he was secretly also named after BYU's all-time winningest QB).

Miranda is also recovering well, and learning all the tricks to get one's self to use the bathroom after a c-section (blowing bubbles in water through a straw has been the go-to strategy of the day).  And so, after that introduction, here you have Max: