Not a ton of photos, but at 2 weeks old, Evan did not fully appreciate his first Christmas. After opening gifts, he was rewarded with a bath before we headed to our next-door neighbor's for dinner. There, our neighbor Nancy and her sister, Candy, fought over who got to hold Evan. He was an angel all day and into the evening. Who wouldn't want to hold him?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
MoMo: 4/23/1999 - 12/26/2009
MoMo was put to rest yesterday after discovering that her kidneys were failing. She had lost several pounds over the past few days, so we took her in for some blood work, the results of which were not good. Fortunately, we were able to dedicate some time with her on Christmas night after several weeks of focusing solely on Evan. Jenn and I envisioned Evan growing up to know (and torment) MoMo, but alas, that was not in the cards.
She was not always the friendliest cat to strangers (or even to me), but that was what made her unique and memorable. People well outside of our inner circle of friends/family knew of her reputation, and everyone that met her has some sort of story to tell about it. She had earned several additional names (MoMonster, the Kracken, Krazy Katze, and most recently Paris) due to her behavior and personality. Even in her last days, she was causing trouble as she always had. Here she is attempting to reach the buttery breakfast griddle Christmas morning:
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Welcome Evan David Vu Quinn
Evan's birth story (the abbreviated version):
Sunday Dec 6th, I was up nearly all night working on a presentation for work. I slept from 5:00 a.m. until 7:15 a.m. Jenn was feeling some cramping in the morning (Monday Dec 7th) as she had all weekend, but nothing regular was happening, so I went to work. Over email, Jenn let me know around noon that she was having contractions but nothing urgent. She asked that I come home as soon as my 1:00-3:00 p.m. presentation was over. Leaving nothing to chance, I gave her the (landline) phone number to join the presentation if for any reason I couldn't receive a call on my cell.
Only ten minutes into the presentation, my cell phone rings. Contractions are 5 minutes apart, and Jenn was getting nervous. I immediately left the room of 20 people and let my team members figure out how to present something they had never seen before.
I had intentionally driven the BMW to work in case I had to rush home, and rush home I did. Fortunately it was well before afternoon rush hour so I had no problem making the 22 mile trip in ~15 minutes.
When I got home, our doula, Sarah, was already there supporting Jenn and timing the contractions. I got the house ready and packed up the car. By 5:00 p.m., the contractions had intensified and were ~3 minutes apart. We very carefully led Jenn out to the car, stopping for contractions along the way. Sarah sat on the baby seat dock in the back seat to be beside Jenn, and I was the chauffeur. I did not drive like a maniac this time, but instead was careful to avoid or address every bump in the road as gingerly as possible, to little avail; each bump was excruciating to her.
As we entered the hospital, an off-duty security guard about to go home saw Jenn struggling to walk. He grabbed a wheelchair and took her to the maternity floor while Sarah and I followed. We registered and set up camp in the delivery room, our home for the next 18 hours. Labor was progressing and contractions were intensifying. Her water broke around 7:00 p.m. By 11:00 p.m., now 18 hrs into labor, the pain was too much for Jenn, and an epidural was ordered. But it didn't work. Jenn was still feeling the pain of the contractions, but only on her left side. The anesthesiologist gave her two additional doses when we complained about the ineffectiveness. Finally, at 2:00 a.m., the anesthesiologist came back one more time and adjusted the catheter, and the medication was allowed to flow to both sides of her body.
By ~10:00 a.m. (Tuesday Dec. 8th), labor had not progressed far enough to get to the pushing stage, and Jenn had exhibited symptoms of preeclampsia: high blood pressure and poorly functioning liver and kidneys. A C-section was recommended by the doctor and after careful consideration of the few remaining options, we realized it had to be done.
They wheeled her away to the O.R. as I dressed in a hospital gown, and then I sat...waiting. It was a moment of anxiety, anxiousness, and fear. There was no longer any uncertainty about when he would arrive. My life was going to change forever...right now.
They came to get me about 20 minutes later, and escorted me into the operating room, around to Jenn's head. A 3-foot high blue sheet was erected just below her chin as an infectious barrier. At 11:52 a.m., only a few minutes after I'd entered, I heard the cries of our son as he was extracted, and I first saw him as he was carried over to the "baby workbench," for lack of a better term, when they weighed him and checked his vitals. Upon seeing him, I immediately started crying. It was wave of emotion triggered by the 9-month anticipation of his arrival, the 32 hours of labor, the 52 hours with only 3 hours of sleep, and an immense attachment to him that I never felt while he was in utero. He was all pink and very healthy looking, and he was adorable. A rather large 9 lbs 1 oz, he was not a fat baby, just large (21" long). They wrapped him up and brought him over to me, and I held him as best I could so Jenn could see him. After 5-10 minutes, they took Evan and led me to the recovery room.
Finally in Recovery, Jenn was able to hold and see her son:
This is the first family photo:
And here is the first photo after he had been "officially" named Evan David Vu:
Sunday Dec 6th, I was up nearly all night working on a presentation for work. I slept from 5:00 a.m. until 7:15 a.m. Jenn was feeling some cramping in the morning (Monday Dec 7th) as she had all weekend, but nothing regular was happening, so I went to work. Over email, Jenn let me know around noon that she was having contractions but nothing urgent. She asked that I come home as soon as my 1:00-3:00 p.m. presentation was over. Leaving nothing to chance, I gave her the (landline) phone number to join the presentation if for any reason I couldn't receive a call on my cell.
Only ten minutes into the presentation, my cell phone rings. Contractions are 5 minutes apart, and Jenn was getting nervous. I immediately left the room of 20 people and let my team members figure out how to present something they had never seen before.
I had intentionally driven the BMW to work in case I had to rush home, and rush home I did. Fortunately it was well before afternoon rush hour so I had no problem making the 22 mile trip in ~15 minutes.
When I got home, our doula, Sarah, was already there supporting Jenn and timing the contractions. I got the house ready and packed up the car. By 5:00 p.m., the contractions had intensified and were ~3 minutes apart. We very carefully led Jenn out to the car, stopping for contractions along the way. Sarah sat on the baby seat dock in the back seat to be beside Jenn, and I was the chauffeur. I did not drive like a maniac this time, but instead was careful to avoid or address every bump in the road as gingerly as possible, to little avail; each bump was excruciating to her.
As we entered the hospital, an off-duty security guard about to go home saw Jenn struggling to walk. He grabbed a wheelchair and took her to the maternity floor while Sarah and I followed. We registered and set up camp in the delivery room, our home for the next 18 hours. Labor was progressing and contractions were intensifying. Her water broke around 7:00 p.m. By 11:00 p.m., now 18 hrs into labor, the pain was too much for Jenn, and an epidural was ordered. But it didn't work. Jenn was still feeling the pain of the contractions, but only on her left side. The anesthesiologist gave her two additional doses when we complained about the ineffectiveness. Finally, at 2:00 a.m., the anesthesiologist came back one more time and adjusted the catheter, and the medication was allowed to flow to both sides of her body.
By ~10:00 a.m. (Tuesday Dec. 8th), labor had not progressed far enough to get to the pushing stage, and Jenn had exhibited symptoms of preeclampsia: high blood pressure and poorly functioning liver and kidneys. A C-section was recommended by the doctor and after careful consideration of the few remaining options, we realized it had to be done.
They wheeled her away to the O.R. as I dressed in a hospital gown, and then I sat...waiting. It was a moment of anxiety, anxiousness, and fear. There was no longer any uncertainty about when he would arrive. My life was going to change forever...right now.
They came to get me about 20 minutes later, and escorted me into the operating room, around to Jenn's head. A 3-foot high blue sheet was erected just below her chin as an infectious barrier. At 11:52 a.m., only a few minutes after I'd entered, I heard the cries of our son as he was extracted, and I first saw him as he was carried over to the "baby workbench," for lack of a better term, when they weighed him and checked his vitals. Upon seeing him, I immediately started crying. It was wave of emotion triggered by the 9-month anticipation of his arrival, the 32 hours of labor, the 52 hours with only 3 hours of sleep, and an immense attachment to him that I never felt while he was in utero. He was all pink and very healthy looking, and he was adorable. A rather large 9 lbs 1 oz, he was not a fat baby, just large (21" long). They wrapped him up and brought him over to me, and I held him as best I could so Jenn could see him. After 5-10 minutes, they took Evan and led me to the recovery room.
Finally in Recovery, Jenn was able to hold and see her son:
This is the first family photo:
And here is the first photo after he had been "officially" named Evan David Vu:
And some more photos taken later that night, once we were in our post-partum room:
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