Introducing Fitzwilliam Wallace Hassell

It’s been a busy 2 months so excuse the late announcement of baby boy Hassell numero dos. 

So here is our story of Fitz’s arrival. On June 10^th I was 41 weeks pregnant and was not dilated or having any other signs of labor. My doctor asked me to come in for an ultrasound to determine when to induce labor.  As I got to the appointment, I wasn’t nervous, I was late with Max and my body just needed a little jump start to push itself into labor. As I laid on the exam chair and the ultrasound technician announced the baby was breech and large, I said, “That seems like it will really hurt to deliver.” She replied that my hospital did not deliver breech babies. So I said, “Okay, I guess we have to turn the baby.” She just gave my arm a little squeeze and shook her head.  I was not sure what that gesture meant. When the doctor came in to talk to me, she felt my stomach and told me she didn’t think turning the baby was an option and she would recommend an immediate C-section.  I could not believe this. A C-section is something I have never, ever wanted to experience.  I had such a wonderful birth experience with Max and I was looking forward to a natural birth again (by natural I mean with an epidural of course). The doctor also dropped the bomb that I wouldn’t be able to lift Max for 6 weeks or drive for 2 weeks. We do not live by family, both sides of our family all have their own kids and busy lives. My mom works full-time and my dad was heading out of the country. No one was in a position to drop everything and come take care of Max and drive me around. I was too startled by this news to agree to an immediate C-section, I needed a few hours to process and figure out a plan. I asked the doctor to let me have the C-section first thing in the morning instead. Max was at a babysitter, Tim was at work, and I had book club that night so she agreed but made me promise not to go into labor. I cried the whole way through my appointment, the whole way home, stopped crying for book club, started up again at bedtime. I was devastated that my birth plans were going to be derailed and I was freaking out about what to do with Max. At three in the morning I started having painful contractions, we went to the hospital but things moved slowly. They gave me miraculous pain meds that the nurse called margaritas (something I now wish to experience). My nurse kind of scared me. She seemed annoyed with me. Maybe it’s because once I had the meds, I didn’t stop talking and most of it was just random facts. She wheeled me away to the operating room by myself and we left Tim behind. I suddenly got very nervous. I started crying again. The operating room was very cold. I was tired and overwhelmed. My scary nurse sat me up and leaned my head on her forehead and rubbed my back and told me it would be ok. She wasn’t scary at all. They gave me the giant shot in my back, laid me back down. I felt so weird and out of it. I felt removed from the situation. Tim came back in and asked me why I was crying. The doctors came in, cut me open and tugged, pulled, and pushed Fitzwilliam out. He was 8lbs 15oz (I just say 9lbs because it drives me nuts when people don’t do that).  I cried through the whole thing. I heard a baby but didn’t see him for a few minutes. I was too weak to hold him. Tim brought him to me and I kissed his big head (97th percentile). He looked so different from Max. 

The rest of the days in the hospital were a blur of naps with Fitz laying on my chest. I was in a lot of pain the first day and was amazed at how you really do need your stomach muscles for just about everything. Besides the soreness, things went much better than expected. After all the drama, it was all just fine. I was fine. Baby Fitz was fine. Max was fine. Tim was fine. It really all worked out. And I forgot how much I love newborns....well, my newborns. It was a blissful time to share with just the two of us. We bonded.

 

The reason everything was fine was mostly because of my dear friend Katie Irion, who even though she was in the midst of moving across the country, took charge. She scheduled meals, play dates, rides, and made sure Max and I were taken care of for 10 days until my mom arrived. Numerous friends stepped forward and volunteered to help us those first few weeks. Family sent money to help pay for extra babysitters when friends couldn’t fill in. It was a humbling experience to be rallied around. Max was very excited to meet his baby brother. He was his loud, crazy self and let Fitz know right away what he was in for. Tim loves babies so Fitz won him over right away.

The day I had Fitz, my great friend Jenny Leake sent these pictures of Max letting me know he was doing just fine without me. Up until this point in his life, Max had never spent much time away from me and I was so nervous for him. Clearly he was fine. These pictures made me happier and more relieved than you can possibly imagine.

Here are some beautiful pictures a friend named Kim Roper offered to take. My little Fitzwilliam Wallace Hassell. Tim decided the middle name when I was really out of it. It’s not that I don’t like the name (after Tim’s grandpa) but it makes his name sound like William Wallace from Braveheart. That was Tim’s plan all along. Well Fitz has continued to be sweet, happy, snugly, and a good sleeper for 2 whole months now. We love him to pieces around this place. Just posting these pictures makes me want to go in my room, wake up Fitz, and kiss those cheeks.

 

My friend Mellissa Mabey took these two lovely photos as well.