March 20, 2002

Life revolves around planet Ella

      Over the past two weeks, I've slept only 56 hours, fought a 102 degree fever, gone on a 30 mph ambulance ride and forgot to brush my teeth on several occasions.
      Life doesn't get much better - even with 3 a.m. diaper changes.
      Since March 8, the world as we know it no longer revolves around the sun, but a 6 pound, 12 ounce celestial being named Elisabeth Anne. Or the planet Ella as we like to call her.
      Everyone has a birth story and Ella's first chapter reads like a made-for-TV-movie script.
      After going two weeks overdue, our baby decided she wanted out of her womb without a view mere hours before a scheduled 7:30 a.m. induction. Like any overdramatic plotline, the roads were a sheet of ice and the would-be-father broke two scrapers attempting to clean off the car windshield. It even got to the point where the on-call doctor advised us to carry towels in the car - just in case.
      However, before the car could careen off the road and I had to use a tire gauge and a ball-point pen to cut the umbilical cord, my wife suggested we scrap the "MacGyver" script and dial 911 instead. Without a peep of male-ego fuss, I made the phone call. Twenty-five minutes later, with contractions now three minutes apart, our 30 mph ambulance ride ended at the hospital doors and not in the ditch.
      Now labor is defined as physical or mental exertion; work; toil. Giving birth is truly a labor of love with a few choice swear words. With this type of labor there is ample amounts of blood, sweat and tears shed - and that is just in the waiting room. Going au naturale, without any medication, my wife endured pain that would have made the Terminator wince. Surprisingly, she didn't tell me to shove it when I kept chanting "push, push" or insist I drop dead after chiding her to keep breathing.
      After laboring 12 hours with my wife, I learned two important things: the human hand can exert tremendous strength but nothing like the human heart.
      Then at 6:28 p.m., Friday, March 8, 2002 I experienced the happiest birthday that wasn't mine. Our little bundle of joy was no longer a euphemism but a cherub-face reality. Gazing into those intense blue eyes, my first thought was "no dating until college." The metamorphosis was complete, I had become a daddy.
      Since bringing home baby last Sunday, life at the Leiva house has consisted of documenting both ends of the digestive process. I always thought it was weird how parents obsessed about their newborn's bottom end output or how people looked into a Kleenex after blowing their nose. Now I find myself examining dirty diapers like they are Rorschach tests and keeping Dear Diary entries of wets and soils.
      Of course, taking care of a little baby 24/7 means the small things in your adult life fall by the wayside. Simple tasks like eating, sleeping, bathing and brushing your teeth require shift changes more complicated then those at Fort Knox. In fact, it took a 102 degree fever to banish me from daily diaper duty. Thankfully, one honor bestowed on new parents is that people actually expect you to be unshaven, sporting bedhead and wearing pajamas at three in the afternoon on a Thursday.
      Also, I've found visitors feel compelled to pay homage to your offspring by bringing over a bundt cake or tuna noodle casserole. At this pace I'm hoping I won't have to go grocery shopping until Ella graduates from high school.
      Over the past two weeks, I've had little sleep, few hot meals and a raging fever, an unforgettable ambulance ride and forgotten dental hygiene. Life doesn't get much better revolving around planet Ella.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached by calling 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com