The Unfolding of Miles

We guess it would be appropriate to first start off with an announcement!


MILES ANDREW VOLLER
BORN JUNE 8, 2009
11:51AM
6 LBS 9 OZ
19 1/2 INCHES



Miles, although 3 days old as we begin the writing of this post, already has a story. Yep, they're getting baggage early these days.

We thought that perhaps this birth would be a much more uncomplicated post then the birth of Celia. Something more along the lines of, "He's Here!" or "Meet New Baby!" But you all know the Vollers... could a day go by without a seemingly normal event becoming a little complicated? Ha. You know it's true.

And so the unfolding of Miles... his birth decision, the outcomes, and of course his NAME. We know if nothing else you are wondering THAT!

Miles birth unfolded to us before it even happened.

A quick recap for those in the dark. We were attempting to have a VBAC with Miles. (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean). We have come to the calming assurance that the C-section for Celia saved both her life and J's. Yet, we know life is mysterious, childbirth topping that list of cosmic conundrums. Being forever seekers of the this mystery, this hero's journey that is life, we wanted to attempt to avoid the C-section with high hopes that the red carpet would roll out in our favor.

As we waddled into the late 3rd trimester, our physically breezy pregnancy started to act up and get a little 'tude, if you will. The seemingly benign discomforts of late pregnancy started throwing their hips around and wagging their fingers at the healthy J. Now, if you'll remember, J had toxemia and preeclampsia in Celia's pregnancy. It is rare that women who get pregnant a second time and the daddy is the same guy (and oh yes, it is) that these two things would occur again. So, we're in the clear! Well...

Headaches, stars, and fluid, Oh MY! J woke up in the night and could no long twirl her wedding ring around her finger. It was completely stuck beneath a finger so full of fluid it put Bob Evans to shame.

J's face started to puff that next day as well. The Pillsbury Dough Boy look isn't what you want to see in the mirror after a night of heaving and hoeing a 41cm belly around from side to side trying to catch a few zzz's. (although when I asked Steve, he smartly replied, "Oh honey, you're pregnant and you look great." And maybe I did look a little yummy)

It appeared that J was on the path to a repeat performance of the late and great 2007 series starring Celia Scarlet. A C-section was planned in hopes that we would be one step ahead this time of the little green toxemia men.

Much fear and confusion surrounded this decision for J who had nothing but bad memories about the previous c-section. The nights got long. The mind went to the corners, dark and bleak. The heart reached into the vast spaces of fear. The morning of... I felt completely at peace... completely in the know... a calm assurity that this was the right thing for everyone.

Arrival at the hospital made that even more clear as an elevated blood pressure reading told me, "Good thing you are here today."

And so off we went. I have to say the team at Spectrum Health is seriously stellar. We had 4 people come into the room to talk to us before the birth and they went through every aspect of the process, let us ask questions, listened to our story. Just a short, "You got very sick last time with your daughter's birth," made me feel so cared for. They bothered reading my chart? Sometimes western medicine is such a disappointment -- more often than not. This day, I was never more humbled and grateful for it.

The birth of Miles, then No Name Baby, was fast, so fast that Dr. Martin with anesthesia said, "You guys are done already?" Steve and J took pause from their quiet duet of Andy Partridge's Everything Will Be Alright to hear Baby Boy Voller suck in his first breath and let out that squalling newborn wail. I had conjured up all that would go wrong and it all went perfectly, and there he was. Long chicken legs to love, piano player fingers, and a swollen ball sack to make any dad proud... our son. (I explained to Steve that they all look like that when they come out, but he would hear nothing of it.)



"What's his name?" J called out to Steve as he cut the long pearly cord that had connected us for the last 10 months.

"I don't know!" Steve exclaimed. "What's your name buddy? Are you Seth? Are you Luken?"

Ok, let's back up. This conversation was taking place in the wake of a comment from just 2 nights before our scheduled birth. Steve walked into the living room, "You know what I just can't get around? Seth is just so popular. I love the meaning, but I just... I don't know, I wish it wasn't so common."

"Honey, if you are still really on the fence with this, we need to talk because I don't want you to ok a name just because I like it, I want you to love it to."

"It's just with Celia, we absolutely knew that was her name, the perfect name, and I don't feel that way with Seth."

Mac the LapTop came out. Names, Names, Glorious Names filled our brains each one better than the first. Hmmm... Ander was nice... what should the middle name be instead? Hmmm.... Luken, meaning Light Bringer... LOVE that. (All who know Steve know he was hooked just by that. "It's Goethe from the grave!!")

We went back and forth and finally J looked at Steve and said, "I don't think I can do this anymore. When he comes out Monday, you look at him and you name him. I'll be fine with whatever you choose."

"Really? You want me to name him?"

"Absolutely. You get to decide."

But here he was and nothing was coming to Steve. So, he was just Baby for his first day of life. Once we got to our room, Steve kept staring at him and throwing names out.

"It's storming outside, maybe it should be Soren."
"If the sun comes out then it should be Luken."
"How about Wolfgang? Mahler? Johann?" (and more composers he loves)
"He looks so wise, like Yoda... how about Yoda backwards, Adoy?"
J stopped listening to him around then.



A few hours went by and Steve blurted out, "How about Miles?" J still wasn't listening. "Really, Miles Andrew Voller. That's awesome! Oh, but you don't like the name Miles."

"What? Why would you think that? I wanted to name Celia Myles with a "y", " I said.

"No, when I brought it up you said you only liked it with a "y" for a girl."

"No, I never said that!"

"Oh well, I love that name."

"You know that's pretty popular as well," J says.

"Yeah, but I don't care. I don't even care what it means. I think it's perfect."

After the Adoy suggestion I still figured he was blowing smoke and I said, "You name him."

Time went by and I could tell in Steve's complex, always working, always analyzing, always churning brain that he was unfolding Miles and trying it on for size, And then my family came to see the baby.



My mom brought up Celia and my dad and step mom Marie came by at the same time I was on the phone to our good friend, Jen. Steve decided to test the waters. Not only did everyone explode with love for the name of Miles Andrew, my DAD, MY DAD of all people said he loved it and went right ahead and wrote it on our dry-erase board for all to see.

You know my dad right? It's not that he's hard to please, he just knows what he likes, knows what he thinks, and there's not much discussion after that. All other names had gotten the Larry poo poo. I think this of all things may have sold Steve.



Oh and here's Celia meeting Miles for the first time: This is Celia's way of kissing -- CPR style:



And so there you have it. Steve just pulled a name out of his behind the night Miles was born and that was that. It took J a good 3 days to call him Miles. J still thought Steve would change the name even after getting the birth certificate with the typewriter like punching of M-I-L-E-S on the line above these little black feet.

And so we sent out our announcements -- all are HEALTHY! We bursted with joy that this birth was not having the outcomes that Celia's did for J and we were sure that making the decision for the C-section earlier than planned was our saving grace. And then we got a visitor.

Dr. Leazenby, surgeon master, came in and simply said, "So, everything looks really good, but your hemoglobin and platelets are very low."

"Ok, what does that mean?"

"Well, I don't really get it. The surgery went perfectly. It didn't seem like you were losing alot of blood. I really don't get it. It seems as if your blood just disappeared. How do you feel?"

J, lying a touch, "OH fine!"

J was trying not to make a big deal of the fact that ever since the birth she felt like I had just gotten off a merry go round, but clearly she wasn't thinking straight, and didn't understand how bad it was.




Without bothering with the long story, we'll just say that although not "symptomatic" at the hospital, once we got home, we had another story. Extreme vertigo, nausea, dizziness and headaches accompanied J to the point of it seeming as though a blood transfusion was going to be necessary. Curses to the little green men!



So J was put on strict bed rest with a diet of toxic levels of iron pills and protein. (well, toxic to normal folks with a hemoglobin count of a hearty 16 -- J, being half that at an 8, was just soaking up the flavor)

Without Steve home (seriously, my husband puts most men to shame he rocks so rockingly) my mom staying for a week (she really does wear a cape, I'm convinced, I'm just waiting to catch her in it), Matt Rose finishing our bathroom renovation and Jen coming over to check on our garden, I do not know what I would have done.






Here we rest, J and mild mannered Miles, who is so peaceful and just loves to sleep that we think that J gave birth to the Dalai Lama the 15th or perhaps the male equivalent of Mother Theresa.

If I haven't learned it before I now know, "it is part of what it means to be human, to have the darkness just as much as the light -- that in fact the dark parts make the light visible; without them, the light would disappear." true. (Anne Lamott)