It’s hard to believe it’s been 3 years already. We had just come home from Talon’s Christmas Play from School. Your mother was feeling a little bit of pain, but did not seem too concerned. Your mommy came in the room and said it was time, that we should head out to the hospital.

We casually gathered things together, and loaded up the car. I remember standing there with the car door open and asking, “I wonder why the light is off in the car?”. In an instant the calmness stopped as your mother yelled, “Get in the damn car!” (Apparently the pain had increased.)

The trip to Duke Hospital normally takes around 30-40 minutes, but I can barely remember it. It’s all a blur. When we arrived at the hospital they ushered us into a room and the nurses checked out your mother. We were informed she was not far enough along to be admitted, and that we should be home. We informed the nurses of our situation and the importance of you being born at Duke, and they admitted us.

Most of the night’s recall is a bit of a blur. I remember bits and pieces leading up to moving to the operating room. I do remember all of the operating room, though.

You see, buddy, we found out when you were only 18 weeks inside your mother’s belly that there was a slight problem. You had Gastroschisis. The short of it is… your intestines were on the outside of your body. We were scared when we first found out. There was so much to worry about as your were growing inside of your mother. People kept telling us everything would be ok, but they didn’t know. It used to piss me off. The doctors said they could fix you. We kept finding stories online where the outcome wasn’t what one would hope for. We kept it together, but underneath, we were both a wreck.

There were a ton of people in the operating room. There were two doctors present. One to catch you, and one to catch your intestines.

I remember the second you were born. You did not make a sound, but your eyes were wide open. You looked right at me. For the rest of my life, I will never forget that look. They rushed you into the next room. I waited by your mother’s side as they finished taking care of her, my eyes on the little window that led into the other room. I needed to see if anyone one was walking faster than they should have been. Still not a sound from you. I was let in to see you after you were stabilized.

They had your wrapped in a plastic bag from the waist down to keep your intestines sterile. You were so tiny. They brought you by your mother so she could see you, then they took you off to get ready for surgery. It would be a long process to get your organs back in your body.

The doctors placed your intestines in a mesh bag called a ‘Silo’. The Silo was suspended above your body, and each day the doctors pushed a little bit more of your intestines into your body. They couldn’t do it all at once because your body wasn’t used to having the organs in there, and it didn’t have the room right away. The doctors were finally able to get your organs all the way in, and they closed you up. Now we had to wait. Since your intestines had been outside your body for so long, they had become hardened by the amniotic fluid you floated in while in your mommy’s tummy. We had to wait for them to heal themselves and start to work. Basically we were waiting for you to poop. After your final surgery, you were moved out of the NICU into a regular room.

You had a tube that went down your mouth and into your stomach. We hated that tube, but it kept your stomach drained. Sometimes we fought with the nurses. They would have the tube in too far, or not far enough. Someday you should ask mommy about air bubbles in your IV line. Phoenix, she was on top of it buddy!

So, anyway… here we are 3 years later, and if we didn’t tell you, you would never know there was something wrong when you were born. The doctors were able to close up the hole in your stomach without leaving a mark. You have a slight scar in your belly button and that’s it.

Happy Birthday, Phoenix, my little peanut. I love you.