Missing him

It's Tuesday afternoon. I returned to work Monday, then stopped in at home to see Nathaniel around lunch time. Today, I didn't get to go home.

I only saw the little guy for about an hour this morning ... one hour out of the past 17 or so since midnight last night. I'm going through withdrawal. What if he decides to start talking or rolling over or something? What if he has questions about sports? My wife and mother-in-law can't answer those questions for him.

What if I go home and find out his aunt dressed him in a sailor outfit? Last night I had to fight off her suggestion that he'd have such an outfit for Easter. I don't think themed outfits like that work (other than his Steelers outfit, of course). I'm figuring he'll just have some nice outfit that doesn't remind people of Popeye. That's my goal. Oh ... and he also have me around to help him find some hidden candy.

Rash
My only concern (and not a major one) is Nathaniel's diaper rash. At the hospital, we noticed he had very sensitive skin, so we just used gauze to wipe him off during changes. That's what the nurses had done, and he seemed fine. Then we ran out of gauze and switched to Pampers Sensitive Skin wipes (no alcohol; hypoallergenic; "gentler than a washcloth and water"). Within days, his butt was red and he was screaming.

We tried using wet paper towels for a few days (works pretty well), and now we've moved on to trying wet cotton balls (also works pretty well). We're frosting his bottom with diaper rash cream, and he's not screaming, but it is still very red.

Any advice out there for first-timers?

Milestone

Nathaniel lost his umbilical stump in the last couple of hours. It's a little different for him since he had some lines running in and out of his belly button while at the hospital. Technically, he had an umbilical disk rather than a stump ... they cut most of the stump off when he went to Delaware.

Either way, it's gone now. And we can see his belly button for the first time.

That's all. Not a huge deal, but it is pretty darn cool to me.

Back to work

Tomorrow (Monday) will be my first day back at work since this whole thing started. It will be my first day away from Nathaniel since he was born.
I don't imagine it will be too bad, as I'll get to leave him with my wife and mother-in-law for several days coming, then with just my wife for a few weeks after that.
Then, around the beginning of April, I'm going to take some time off and take care of him while Amanda goes back to work.
It won't be until early- to mid-May that we start taking him to a day-care center.
I have a feeling that's when it will really get hard to go to work and leave him with strangers.

For now, however, I guess I'll have to get used to day-to-day office issues and take a step back from the nonstop diaper changes and feedings.

Baby Nathaniel is home after bumpy ride

(This update appeared in print in the Courier-Post's "South Jersey Living" magazine on Sunday, Feb. 26.)

Just over three months ago, I wrote a column here welcoming readers to the blog I would write to chronicle a dad's-eye view of becoming a first-time parent.
"It's going to be quite a ride," I wrote, "and I hope you'll join me . . . for all the absurdity and confusion that comes along with childbirth."
Little did I know just how much of an adventure my small family was about to have.
Little Nathaniel Hector Correa was born at 6:05 p.m. Feb. 2. We named him Nathaniel simply because we liked the name and Hector after my father, who passed away in 2004. Nathaniel's due date of Jan. 30 was my father's birthday. But while my wife Amanda and I were in awe of our beautiful son, the nurses quickly pointed out he wasn't crying very much and wasn't as pink as they'd like.
They called in a neonatal specialist to take a closer look. She said Nathaniel was probably just taking a little time to adjust. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
After several more updates, a cardiac specialist visited our room to tell us Nathaniel had a heart defect that is almost always fatal without proper treatment. In essence, he explained, oxygenated blood was not being carried around his body. Unoxygenated "blue" blood was making a loop around his body and back to his heart; while fully oxygenated "red" blood was making a loop to his lungs and back to his heart. But the two were not mixing in the heart, as they're supposed to.
The specialist told us Nathaniel was immediately being taken to a children's hospital in Delaware, and he would have open-heart surgery early the following week. This was at about 11 p.m., five hours after birth.
Throughout the pregnancy, there was no warning of anything being wrong. We were in shock.
The days that followed are covered in detail on my blog, A Dad is Born, on courierpostonline.com -- from our first opportunities to see him at the cardiac intensive care unit in Delaware, to getting to feed him for the first time, to handing our 5-day-old baby over to a doctor who would stop his heart and lungs and switch around major arteries.
After about two weeks of living in hospitals, Amanda and I returned home with our baby Feb. 15. We're still giving him some minor medications, and his immune system is somewhat weakened. But we have our baby. And we have a whole new perspective on parenthood.
Sure, we want Nathaniel to stop crying; but we also can't help but smile that his lungs are strong enough to wail as loudly as he does. Sure, it's upsetting when he scratches his face a little bit; but it's nothing compared to the scar he has on his chest, and he survived that like a champion.
According to the doctors, Nathaniel should grow up like any other child now that he's had his surgery. There are no special dietary or activity restrictions. The only difference is he'll have regular cardiologist visits along with his pediatrician visits for a few years.
It's mind-numbing to think of what he's been through in such a short time. And that's just the beginning.
Mark Correa is the editorial page editor for the Courier-Post. He'll continue writing his dad's-eye chronicles of his son's life until at least his first birthday.

Painful foot

So Amanda and I took little Nathaniel for a short walk today. I put him in our Baby Bjorn, so he was snug against my chest and kept warm under my jacket. We just walked around the block, and he was asleep for most of it. It was nice to get out of the house for a little to go somewhere other than a doctor's office.

Then we came back home and checked the mail. We got something from the state Department of Health and Senior Services. After congratulating us on the birth of our son, it noted the state has not received the standard metabolic tests every baby must have. It said to take the note to our doctor for a quick heal prick and blood collection.
Sounds easy enough. So, despite my being certain he's had this blood test done already (he lived in a hospital for two weeks during which time they drew plenty of blood for numerous tests ... it seems unlikely they'd miss this very important and easy test), we went to the pediatrician office.

There we discovered this easy blood collection is really a round of torture for the youngster. He was stabbed four or five times in the heal and blood was forcefully squeezed from his foot by a doctor who kept referring to him as "her." Amanda was shushing Nathaniel and holding his arms ... I was pacing and getting more and more anxious.
You parents out there know the feeling of having to stand around while your baby is crying and in pain, but it's very fresh and disturbing to me. I'm not used to this kind of thing, and it left me exhausted. Now let's hope the incorrect information on the form (I told the doctor it had Amanda's name and then listed my Social Security number, but he insisted it wouldn't matter) doesn't result in Nathaniel having to be prodded yet again.

He's had more than his share, and so have I.

Where's the warning?

So I just fed Nathaniel. He happily slurped down 3+ ounces of nourishment, then started to drift off into sleep. It's a fairly common pattern, although we do have to keep an eye out for him deciding to spit up a little. That's why I had him next to me on the couch with his bib still on and a cloth diaper over his chest, ready to move quickly at the first sign.

He looked so peaceful. Then he opened his eyes and was looking at me. All very nice.

Then came the geyser.

No warning, no fussing, no sounds ... just a nice little fountain of spit up onto the side of his head, my arm, the pillow he was on and the couch itself. I moved quickly to wipe everything up, place him on his side on another diaper to catch any more spit up and remove the slip cover.

(I left for a little because he had the hiccups. He's done and I'm back).

Most times, his spit up is more of the dribbling out variety, which is easier to catch if you're prepared. I guess the lesson here is you're never as prepared as you might think you are.

Passed the test

Nathaniel had to visit the cardiologist for the first time Thursday (three weeks old!) since he left the hospital.
I didn't say anything to Amanda ahead of time, but I was worried about the possibility of his oxygen numbers having dropped and the doctors taking Nathaniel away from us again.

Thankfully, the worry was needless.
When he first arrived at the hospital, his oxygen numbers were in the 70s. Just before the surgery, they were in the 90s. Just after the surgery, they were in the 80s. Days after the surgery, they were back in the upper 90s when he had an oxygen tube in his nose and in the low 90s without the tube. They wouldn't release him until he held steady at 94 or better without an oxygen tube.
When they checked him out Thursday, his oxygen number was 100!
It dropped down to as low as 97, but it started at 100 -- you can't beat that.

Everything else went well, also. He had a EKG, an ultrasound, an echo-cardiogram ... and perhaps other stuff as well. The doctor said he looked fine - no trouble to report.
The news couldn't be better.
Then we took him to the pediatrician, and it looks like he's finally gaining some weight, as well.

Pretty soon, this will all be just a memory, and I'll be focused much more on his sleeping patterns and diaper changes.
I look forward to having such mundane concerns.

More pics

Previous pics were all hospital related ... here's a few from home (in his crib, with his mom (who will ask why I picked that picture no matter which one with her I pick) and in his bassinet/travel crib).

Too much TV, young man

Back a few month, Amanda and I planned to do everything in our power to keep our baby away from the constant babble of the television. We figured he'd gravitate to it on his own later on, so we should try to minimize that early on.
Then I noticed yesterday we've had the thing on for many, many hours since we got back. It was mostly background noise for us as we tried to calm the youngster down or let him sleep or whatever. But, as Amanda pointed out, babies aren't very good at separating background noise from other things -- such as Amanda and me speaking to him.
So we're cutting out his TV listening. As of yesterday, we've been playing music almost all the time (mostly jazz (Ellington, Monk, Parker) with some classical thrown in). The TV remains on to dull the wits of the parents, but we're using the closed captioning so it doesn't bother the little guy.

Other fun
I was just looking at some other pictures and movies I took of Nathaniel at the hospital. I have a short movie of him getting his diaper changed in the ICU. During it, he starts crying away. I think he heard himself crying, because he went from a nice sleep to starting to cry in the other room. He's got some good hearing.

Feeling lucky

As I sit here, typing with one hand and holding a snoozing Nathaniel with the other, I can't help but feel lucky.

Sure, we've been through a lot. We've been through much more than we expected and much more than we wanted to go through. But it's pretty much all over. He had his surgery and, if he's lucky, he shouldn't need anything more. He'll grow up as a normal little boy with his only differences being double doctor visits (cardiologist and pediatrician) and an odd scar on his chest.

Considering what so many people go through, Amanda and I are tremendously lucky to have our precious little bundle happily at home with us, even if it took an extra 11 days to get him home (only 11 extra days to have so many things done to him! that's astounding!). And hearing so many kind words, seeing so many kind gestures, getting so many kind offers during this difficult time has really made us feel lucky to be part of such a caring community (both locally and beyond).

Looks like the little guy is starting to stir ... and I'm on duty while Amanda's napping. Gotta go.

Sleepy days

Today has been a very quiet day. Nathaniel has slept for much of the morning and early afternoon (prompting me to worry whether he was sleeping or lethargic, which the doctors had send to keep an eye on ... he was sleeping).

Beyond that, we've been keeping an eye on a little spotting of blood from around his incision. But the doctors didn't really think the tape covering his incision would be off yet, and the spotting has reduced every day since the tape did come off, so we're not too worried.

I guess we'll learn more next Thursday, when we have a pediatrician and a cardiologist appointment. Hopefully, they'll be able to tell us things are as good as we think they look.

If anything, I think the biggest concern right now is Nathaniel's mom trying so hard to make everything perfect for her son (and she's worried about making everything perfect for me, as well). I keep telling her she's doing an amazing job and she needs to rest more, but she keeps feeling guilty if she's even lying down when Nathaniel begins to cry.
We're both off work for the coming week, so I hope everything calms down in the next eight days before I go back to work. We're desperately trying to get into a workable schedule that will allow both of us to get some rest while taking care of our baby.

I hope that's not a an impossible goal.

Picture time!

I just realized I have yet to post pictures of our incredibly cute son (I'll admit I could be biased). As of today (Friday, Feb. 17), he's 15 days old. But here's his cutest picture from his first minutes of life. This picture is just after they put his footprints on a document for us. He's probably 10 minutes old, at most, and the hospital staff hasn't had time to diagnose any problem. (In a movie I took, a nurse almost immediately notes that he's not crying as much as he should be. Within minutes, a neonatal intensive care person would stop by to take a quick look at him, but she said we should give him a little while as he probably just needed some time to grow accustomed to his new environment. Two hours later, he was in the neonatal intensive care unit. And a few hours after that, he was on his way to Delaware, as I've described in detail over these past two weeks).

Anyway, without further ado, here's Nathaniel Hector Correa in one of his first pictures ever:

And here's a couple of pictures from Saturday, Feb. 4. We were supposed to bring him home that day, then watch the Super Bowl on Sunday. He wasn't going to make it home in time, so I brought him his Steelers hat anyway. Last night, we watched Super Bowl highlights together on NFL On Demand (OK, he slept through the hightlights, but I figured he'd probably do that anyway).

As you can tell, he looks pretty normal in those pictures. That's what made this whole thing so difficult ... our normal, strong-looking son was going to be taken away from us, his heart and lungs stopped and his main arteries severed and reattached because some people we never met said it was best for him. And when we got him back, he'd go from looking fit to being utterly helpless. The whole thing still is so tough to believe.

More exhausted?

I wouldn't have thought it was possible, but I'm actually more exhausted today than yesterday. I finally got a few hours sleep this morning, only to wake up and realize we had a pediatrician visit scheduled for about 80 minutes later. Amanda and I rushed around and got there in no time, but we realized we didn't bring backup diapers or a pacifier or anything. (It was our first visit away from the hospital or home with him ... and those places are always very well stocked with all the things we needed).

The visit went great. Nathaniel has lost a little weight (he's back to about his birth weight), but everyone says that's fine because he was pumped with fluids at the hospital. The pediatrician also removed the bandage over his chest incision, so we got to see it for the first time. It's really not that bad looking, considering what they did.

One important item, however, is that Nathaniel is considered to have a somewhat weakened immune system right now because of his surgery. He's going to be getting a special immunization (an amazingly expensive immunization ... glad insurance is covering all this) to help him deal with things in the first couple of months, but the doctors are suggesting minimizing his contact with people to avoid too many germs.

Hmmm ... gonna have to cut this short. It's 9:21 p.m., which means Nathaniel has entered his wide awake phase of the day. I'm now typing with one hand and trying to talk to him at the same time. And things are going very slow.

Added later ...

Nathaniel has fallen asleep for a moment. I was talking to Amanda about my feeling that I don't talk to him enough. She says she feels incredibly inadequate as well, but that's what happens with a baby: You do everything you can for them, but you always feel like it's not enough. I thought that was a nice way of helping me relax a little.

Amanda and I are going to try to work in shifts tonight. I'm staying up with him until about 2 a.m., then Amanda will take over while I sleep as late as I can. She slept for a while, but she's awake right now (10:16 p.m.) for dinner. I hope she can get back to sleep for a while.

WE'RE HOME!

Two weeks ago tonight (Wednesday), Amanda and I went to the hospital to induce labor. As far as we knew, we're be returning home two days later with a healthy baby boy.

Now, two weeks later, we're finally back in our own home with a healthy baby boy ... and concerns to last us a lifetime.

For now, we're just trying to get our son introduced to his home for the first time; while Amanda and I try to recover from everything that's happened. We'll definitely be keeping a low profile for a little to rest and take care of our son without professional supervision (it's scary). Once again, I want to thank everyone who expressed their concerns and has us in their thoughts since this ordeal started. It helped immeasurably.

Going home?

Nathaniel has been off oxygen for more than 24 hours now, and his numbers are looking strong. Nurses mentioned yesterday that we might go home as early as today. And nurses today are saying the same thing (about today), pending another echocardiogram to ensure everything looks good.

We won't know for a little while, but everything is pointing toward our return to our own home in the very near future. We went to the hospital in South Jersey two weeks ago tonight. Since then it's been hospital beds (or a recliner for me on that first night) almost every night since. We are desperately looking forward to sleeping in our own bed and finally letting our son see the house he'll be growing up in.

As for the little guy ... he slept surprising well last night. Or so I thought. Barely sleeping the previous two days had taken a serious toll on me. Amanda seems to do a better job of taking quick naps during the day (or maybe she just handles lack of sleep better than me ... she is several years younger, after all). Anyway, I fed Nathaniel about 10 p.m. last night then fell asleep like a rock while Amanda was holding him. When I awoke at 4 a.m. to prepare for another feeding, Amanda was asleep and so was Nathaniel. I thought she was a miracle worker, getting our son to sleep so both of us could relax for the first time in three days. I found out this morning, however, that he was crying for quite a while and Amanda was up quite late trying to get him to sleep. The only reason I didn't notice was because of my exhaustion. I have to hand it to Amanda for handling the little guy so I could sleep for a while. (Don't worry, though, we've be trading these late-night duties for a while).

If we do get to leave today, I'll be sure to update the blog.

New and improved Nathaniel

Now without added oxygen!

This may be a limited time offer, but Nathaniel has been off his oxygen tube for at least an hour now. They've checked him a couple of times since then, and he's usually in the range they're looking for. When he was eating earlier, his oxygen levels dipped below the desired level, but it quickly returned when he stopped eating and started breathing more normally again.
Nathaniel without oxygen would be fantastic. He's hooked up to a wall here at the hospital, and I have a feeling he's getting bored with his space. I want to take him out into the hallway and walk around with him in my arms. (I have a feeling Amanda might want to as well.)

Last night was another long one. He seems to have his days and nights mixed up. He sleeps much of the day, then demands to be held much of the night. I got some excellent late-night Olympics viewing in.

Somehow, this isn't how I expected my Valentine's Day to go. Oh well. Hope everyone out there either enjoys their Valentine's Day or ignores it with gusto.

So tired

We decided yesterday, in talking with a nurse, that we should spread our feeding of Nathaniel a little further out ... every 3 1/2 or 4 hours instead of every 3. This sounded fine to us, but the little guy doesn't seem to agree. He was up most of last night and still seems alert as can be, while Amanda and I are feeling like we're at rock bottom.

The docs and nurses here want to keep close track of his input and output. To do that, they're weighing every diaper, and we're feeding from a bottle and recording, to the "cc" exactly how much he takes out of the bottle (notice I didn't say how much he swallows; that's because it's impossible to measure how much gets drooled out or spit up).

Anyway, with his little meals slightly spread out, he's drinking down like he's never had food in his life. He opens his mouth like a baby bird waiting for food, then he chugs away until there's nothing less.

That's when the trouble arrives. After his past few meals, he's had the hiccups. "What to Expect in the First Year" says not to worry, as the hiccups don't hurt infants. "What to Expect" doesn't take into account those infants who have stitches up their sternum. Nathaniel hiccups and cries like mad. They really make him uncomfortable.

And it doesn't help that he's still on a little bit of oxygen, and those tubes around his nose are starting to drive him crazy. An X-ray yesterday showed there's still some fluid in his lungs that's making it difficult to go off the oxygen and get the numbers they're looking for. Today, he's due for an echo-cardiogram to ensure his heart is recovering properly.

So, there's my update. Sorry for the stream-of-consciousness style, but the lack of sleep is hitting me pretty hard.

Still some steps to go

Everything's moving ahead smoothly, but we'd really love for Nathaniel to be off his oxygen tubes. Each time they've tried so far, his oxygen level quickly drops to the low 90s. He was in the upper-70s through mid-80s before his surgery, so the 90s are nice. But they're looking for 94, and he's hitting 93 and 92 pretty quickly. After that, we'd also love for the big, ugly bruise on his chest to go away, and for the lump on his head (the delivery doctor had to use a vacuum to get things going last week, and he's got a bit of a lump of fluid still going on) to disappear.

I have a feeling, actually, that we're never going to stop worrying about what's happening to him. We'll prioritize the worrying (surgery comes before lumpy on head), but once the higher priorities straighten out, some lower priorities will take over (what am I doing that makes him spit up so regularly? how is Amanda avoiding this problem?).

Oh well, I guess the whole parenting thing is all about learning new things.

Holy cow

Wow this is difficult. I'm completely exhausted from trying to respond to Nathaniel's crying. He's on something of a three-hour feeding cycle that we're trying to continue. The nurses fed him at 8,11,2, then handed him over to us. We fed him at 5 and 8 ... now it's almost 11 p.m. I'm also scheduled for the 2 a.m. feeding, while Amanda will try to handle the 5 a.m. shift.

We're feeling incredibly inadequate (we fed him 55cc and 60cc, while a nurse helped with the initial feeding and got him to take 75cc; before surgery, he was handling 90cc all the time). Also, there's so many nurses, doctors, etc. who want to prod him and make sure he's OK (and, really, we are grateful), that they can't help but stop in while he's asleep between feedings and wake him up. He was doing fine, for example, at 9:40 p.m. when someone had to check a few things and woke him up. It's now 10:50, and I don't think he went back to sleep at all.

It's more confusing because everyone has different ideas. One nurse said he slept so much better with his hands out that she didn't want to keep them tight to his sides with the blacket (that's "swaddling" for nonparents out there). Another nurse told us that swaddling is a must because it's been shown to reduce the risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

Then there's the diapers. He's been in the room for seven hours or so ... and we've been through at least seven diapers. Two of those changes were done by the staff when they were checking him for other reasons. Still, he had five full diapers. We're talking no choice but to change him. We're already worried enough about every little peep and sigh; doing this as first-time parents with experts on hand to look over our shoulders is adding to the pressure.

Still, this is much better than we ever could have hoped for at this point.

OUT OF INTENSIVE CARE!

It was barely five hours ago that Nathaniel's nurse said our baby might, maybe, perhaps be moved out of the cardiac intensive care unit today. In the time since then, he's been moved into our room here at the hospital and we've fed him, burped him and dealt with some mechanical questions involving his medical readings. He's out of intensive care, and they're trusting us to watch over him (he also has a few machines reading him for the nurses' station and he is still getting some pure oxygen to help his little body out).

But he's out of intensive care essentially for the first time in his life! The only other time was the first few hours of his life when they hadn't yet diagnosed the problem. Amanda is holding on to him right now, and he's sleeping away.

It's amazing to think that, one week ago, the little guy was newly arrived to the world and this hospital; I had probably recently arrived here to see what was going on; and Amanda had recently convinced her doctor to let her out of the hospital in South Jersey about one day early. It's even more amazing to think that, just three days and a few hours ago, he was in surgery with his heart and lung stopped and machines doing their work for him. Now he's hanging out in our room without a care in the world. (His biggest care seems to be when we change his diaper. He's gotten used to professionals doing that job in under a minute. Amanda and I trying to figure things out for five minutes has made him cry up a storm all three times we've done it).

But we'll learn. And even changing his diapers will be a wonderful thing after all we were worried about for the past week.

Now I think we're in for an all new kind of exhausion as we'll be changing diapers and feeding around the clock. And on top of traditional new-parent worries, we'll also imagine every little thing is a medical emergency as well. It's going to be interesting. But we can't wait.

Relatively tube free

After a long night last night (as mentioned before, Amanda and I are completely exhausted, and Amanda isn't feeling particularly well right now), we got great news today.

When I went to visit Nathaniel at 11 a.m., they already had removed the two tubes in his nose and down his throat along with the sensor measuring something from inside his heart. They told me they'd be taking the worst tube of all -- the big tube sucking blood from his chest cavity -- off in another 20 minutes.

So when I went back just a few minutes ago, he looked a lot like he looked when we first brought him in -- except he now has pink toes that are warm ... and a big scar on his chest. All things considered, however, we'll live with the scar.

He's still not taking many visitors because of infection concerns. And I'd imagine he's close to as exhausted as Amanda and me considering the physical battles his body has been through in the past week (he's one week old today!).

Exhaustion

This past week is really taking a toll on Amanda and me. We've both been through a tremendous amount of stress, anxiety and lack of sleep. On top of that, Amanda's has some major physical trials in giving birth then leaving the hospital early. As a result, we're really out of it of late. We hope to be back on top of our game sometime soon.

But enough about us. Nathaniel (he'll be Nathan or Nate or Nat (I don't think Amanda likes "Nat") soon enough, but he's Nathaniel for now) was looking fine today. Like I said, he opened his eyes earlier when I visited. Since then, he's been dropping a bunch of excess fluids he was given during surgery. They think they can take him off the ventilator/respirator tomorrow, perhaps. Everything is progressing well. If we're lucky, he might even be out of the intensive care ward by early next week.

Eyes open!

Nathaniel looks great this morning (other than being tied down and having tubes all around and in him). He's blinking and moving around and looking somewhat unhappy -- which is exactly how I imagine anybody getting better after unexpected surgery would look. He's even blinking and moving around a little more when he hears voices.

But the best thing is that he's looking around. His eyes are open and he seems to try to look towards voices around him. It was really exciting to see.

Nonetheless, the nurse said not to expect any tubes to be removed today. She said it might happen, and that all his signs are where they should be, but that they're probably taking things slow and steady. That's fine with us.

Tough kid

I went to visit Nathaniel after the nurses' shift change. He's already moving around a litte bit, and he even squeezed my finger. He might even be a little too strong for his own good -- because he's moving a little, they might have to strap down his arms so he doesn't grab at his tubes and such.

I'm amazed somebody who had such serious surgery less than 12 hours earlier is moving around like that. He's so strong. He keeps amazing me every few minutes.

Surgery success!

Nathaniel is out of the operating room. He's heavily sedated right now in order to keep his heart from having to do much work. He's got tubes into his chest cavity, tubes directly into his heart, tubes into his lungs, etc. As much work as possible is being done for him.

All things considered, he looks fantastic. I've never been happier to see a drooling, knocked out baby in my life.

The doctor said everything went fine and there were no complications during surgery. His next 24 hours will be very important, obviously. There's considerable risk for infection with so many tubes impanted deep within him.

But he looks like he's going to make it and be a regular kid soon enough.

This has been an amazing ride from Thursday night through today. We're not in the clear yet, of course, but we're over the biggest obstacle. It's still difficult to believe we went from planning to take him home last Saturday to now hoping he can make it home in February -- and being excited at the possibility.

I'll keep updating about his progress here. Thanks, yet again, to all the friends, neighbors and strangers who have lent their support to us in this difficult past five days. We're lucky to have so many who care for us. Everyone should be so lucky.

It's starting

We just took Nathaniel into surgery. Five days ago at this time, we were worried about when to ask for an epidural and what color hair he'd have (if any). All we wanted, and all any parent wants, is a healthy child. Finding out he wasn't OK ... and with something as serious as a heart defect ... was absolutely stunning.

We know the surgery is very much in his favor, but it still has us scared like nothing has ever scared us before.

Before the surgery, both Amanda and I got to really hold him -- outside his little hospital bed, in our laps, in our arms. It was absolutely amazing.

I can't wait to be able to do that every day, every minute.

Not as planned, but ...

I didn't get to watch the Super Bowl with Nathaniel, but I still feel like we bonded over it. As soon as the game ended (Amanda was with him for a while, and we couldn't visit for a while due to the nurses' shift change), I went over to visit him and I gave him a rundown of the game.

I gave him the scoring recap from start to finish. And I told him he needs to do like the Steelers did -- come back from a weak beginning and finish strong.

It looks like he'll go in for surgery tomorrow morning. For a few days after that, he'll pretty much be sedated and on a ventilator or respirator or whatever -- they'll have him on all that to reduce the stress to his insides and the new connections for two of the major arteries in his body.

We're rooting for him. I'll have to trade my Terrible Towel for a Nathaniel Napkin.

Looking strong

If you didn't know something was wrong with Nathaniel, you'd think he was a regular little baby right now. The only serious differences are that he doesn't seem to cry as much as a regular baby (but that's a good thing, most parents would say), and he's not quite as pink as a regular baby.

Otherwise, he's fussing and grabbing fingers and peeing and pooping and sleeping a lot, just like a regular baby does. But he's still living in a cadiac intensive care unit for now.

Amanda got to feed him a little yesterday. It was really great for all of us. Amanda had barely had a chance to hold him after he was born, and that had really taken a toll on her and, once removed, on me. Seeing her so lovingly leaning over the intensive care "bed," cradling his head and back and putting the bottle in his mouth, she just seemed so happy. And that made me so happy, as well. And Nathaniel seemed to love it as well. Of course, he also loved spitting some of it back up, then sticking his hand in it and wiping it all around. He seems easily pleased by things.

The doctors say surgery is likely to take place Tuesday morning. After that, another father in the CICU warns, he's not going to look nearly as strong as he does today. We're going to have to be ready for that. The other father's baby just had the same surgery our baby is about to have, and his baby is doing quite well. He was taken out of the CICU and moved to a less intensive care space yesterday. It was wonderful news for them. I hope we get similar news in another week.

I'll try to post pictures when I can, but I can't use this public computer for uploading. We have some great shots from Saturday (when we had planned to bring him home). They let us put a Steelers hat on little Nathaniel, just as we had planned to do. We won't get to watch the Super Bowl together today, but I already have plans to watch next year's game with him. I'm looking forward to it like you wouldn't believe.

Ronald McDonald

Amanda and I are staying at the Ronald McDonald House in Wilmington, Del. It's a wonderful place with great people who have really made things a little easier in this difficult time.

Even more valuable, however, have been the great emails and blog comments we've received from so many others. It's truly comforting to know so many people have us in their thoughts.

Thank you.

(I tried posting this and more yesterday, but it didn't seem to take. Trying again now ...)

Looks great ...

Our son, Nathaniel Hector Correa (8 lbs, 12 oz; 21.5 inches long) was born at 6:05 p.m. Thursday. He's big and strong and beautiful.

About five hours later, we found out he has a serious heart defect that keeps oxygenated blood from circulating through his body properly (mostly unoxygenated blood circulates to the body; oxygenated blood makes a loop to the lungs, back to the heart, back to the lungs). This isn't a problem in the placenta, or even immediately after birth. But it is almost always fatal within a year if untreated.

He was flown from Virtua in Voorhees (which did a phenomenal job of catching the problem very quickly -- our thanks to them) to a children's cardiac center in Wilmington, Del., at 3 a.m. Friday. He's expected to have surgery within a week. After that, we're not sure what to expect.

Things look promising, certainly, but I'd rather not be talking about odds and my baby -- today or anytime soon.

I do plan to continue posting here. The plan was a dad's-eye view of birth and the first year. I didn't expect it to go like this, but anyone who's interested will still get a chance to read about his first year here.

Thanks for the support we've already received from family and friends.

PS: "Nathaniel" because we liked the traditional-sounding name that few people seem to be using. "Hector" was my father's name. He passed away in August 2004. His birthday would have been Jan. 30, which was Nathaniel's due date.

Today's the day (almost)

We're headed to the hospital tonight. Well, we will be unless the hospital tells us to stay away because of a rash of women in labor (apparently they'd rather give the beds to women already in labor as opposed to women about to be induced. Go figure).

The plan: Head in tonight and they'll give Amanda something to get the ball rolling. Then, tomorrow morning, they'll give her something else that's supposed to really get things started. Then, sometime after that, it's baby time. If things go fast, I could be a dad in 24 hours. If things go slow, I sure hope I'm a dad within 48 hours.

Either way, I'm incredibly excited. And very nervous. I think Amanda, on the other hand, is incredibly nervous and very excited. I keep telling her everything is going be OK, and she keeps responding, "I hope so." She's in good spirits, but she's probably more nervous than I've ever seen her. (Actually, she was pretty nervous before her emergency appendectomy, but who wouldn't be?).
But the truth is, she really is amazing.
She's handling this whole thing really well. It is scary, but she's still spending part of her time trying to make sure I'll be comfortable throughout the whole process. I tell her not to worry about me, but that's just the kind of person she is.
I try to tell her all the time how much she means to me. I hope she understands how her strength has helped me through many things; and I hope my strength can help her handle whatever's coming in the next day and a half.
I love her. And I can't wait for both of us to share our love with our new baby.
We're almost there.