Our son, Owen, was born a healthy child at 3:13am Saturday. He weighed 8 pounds and 4 ounces, and was 21 inches long. Agata was induced at about 7:30 Friday morning and labored throughout the day. She finally decided to accept an epidural at about 6pm Friday and started resting while having contractions (weird).
Laurel, my sis in law, was a great help throughout the process, and I can't thank her enough for being there. She helped me too when the epidural was being set: I was kneeling in front of my hard-working, heroic wife while she sat at the edge of the bed as the anesthesiologist set-up the epidural. This guy was very forthright and verbose about what he was doing. In my opinion, way too chipper of a personality to have around someone having a baby and the customary pain associated therein. So while I was kneeling, I started to feel a familiar sensation in my head: blood draining from it. I turned to Laurel and said "I'm not OK right now". She misunderstood what I meant and barely caught me as I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was shaking, couldn't really control my limbs, and being held up and shouted at to lay down. It was lame. I was laying on the floor in front of my dear wife in need of some attention while she was needing more attention. The nurses leaped into action and took care of us though. I think they've seen this kind of tomfoolery before. I was totally fine afterward, and very thankful I was kneeling when it happened.
Later on, the doctor on call felt that Agata had not made a enough progress due to the many hours of labor, her not having eaten a substantial breakfast, and Owen's big head. He started implying that if better progress were not made, then a C-section would be necessary, although he didn't say it plainly. Laurel and I prayed for this and the Lord God who is our jealous king and deliverer answered and gave Agata to strength to make up the progress.
Agata finally made it to 10cm at around midnight and started pushing. After about 2 hours, the same doctor believed that Owen was not going to make it out without some help via forceps (I DON'T THINK SO, DOCTOR!) or a vacuum cup on his head to help pull him out. In the end, Agata was spent and we decided to use the vacuum which was secured to his head and used.
Then came all kinds of encouragement and shouting to Agata to give it all she had with all her pushes. She was so awesome. With the help of the vacuum cup fishing lure, Owen finally emerged at 3:13am Saturday! Praise be to the Lord God child and mother were ok and I didn't pass out again after witnessing this common miracle of childbirth. I even cut the cord.
I was so amazed. We could finally see my son...and hold him. I was shocked how big he looked when he came out. And since we had only agreed on a girl's name and had 2 possibilities for a boy, we had to get decisive quick. So after 5 minutes or so, Owen Marek had a name.
Now after 2 restless nights in the hospital filled with repeat pressure checks and questions of "what's your pain level", we are safe and sound at home. I'm writing this now after a mostly sleepless night here at home. Owen has not been very understanding to his wore-out parents. Apparently, he has the opinion that he must express himself wildly. My poor wife really needs to get some sleep. She's been doing so much. I quite thankful that as I have written this, my son has not uttered a peep. Owen means young warrior. So far it's been a war against rest. But anything good is worth fighting for. By that I mean, we love our son and we will, by God's grace, be good parents to the blessing he has given us.
If you know the words to the Doxology, now would be a good time to rehearse them.
Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him all creatures here below!
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host!
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
Amen.
Thanks again to Laurel, and to my parents. Mom and dad busied themselves while waiting by fetching grub for us at the hospital, and waited the whole night to meet their new grandson.



