In last Friday’s paper, I talked about the trouble my wife, Jenny, and I were having in coming up with a name for our son, who was due to arrive Aug. 23. I asked readers for suggestions, hoping someone might offer one we’d like and use. I thought we had a little time to get some suggestions. Boy, was I wrong.Declan James Steuck arrived in the later evening hours of Saturday, July 14, almost six weeks early and weighing 4 lbs., 3 oz., which is just a little more than half the weight of our other son, Braden, when he was born seven years ago.
He’s early and small, but we’re thankful he’s alive. If he remained in his mother much longer, I probably wouldn’t be writing about a joyous event in our lives.
Declan’s journey to his birth began Friday night when Jenny mentioned to me that he didn’t seem like he was being very active, something he’d been for quite some time. As time passed, his mother’s observation turned into worry, which turned into insomnia. She stayed awake half the night, playing solitaire on the computer and looking up information about babies not moving during pregnancy.
The next morning she asked me if she should call the doctor, sort of afraid the doctor might think she’s foolishly worrying about something she shouldn’t worry about. I told her the doctor won’t think that, and if it makes her worry less, she should call.
When she called, a nurse told her to eat or drink something with some sugar, as this might jumpstart the baby. I thought her advice was perfect, as I’ve seen sugar’s effect on Braden.
An hour after drinking a sugary latte from McDonald’s to no results, we went into Ministry St. Michael’s Hospital. Nurse Bette, looking at Jenny, found the baby’s heartbeat, making it appear as though we were needlessly worrying about a healthy baby. But after monitoring my wife for a while, Bette determined the heartbeat was in sync with my wife’s heartbeat, which was cause for concern.
After conducting an ultrasound, Dr. Pavel Petkov determined Jenny needed to stay for a while and the baby needed to be monitored. It was at this time we realized our household may be getting larger sooner than we had expected.
Hours later, after watching the baby’s heart rate, he told us they would induce labor on Sunday, and if the stress was too much for the baby, they would take it by cesarean section.
A few hours later, at 10:15 p.m., he said they weren’t going to wait and they weren’t going to put the baby through the stress of a delivery. He needed to come out, Dr. Petkov said. The delivery team was being assembled, he said, and would be ready in half an hour. I wonder if The Avengers could be ready that quickly during a comic-book world emergency.
While Jenny was being prepared for the surgery, I waited in the hallway, suited up for the delivery room. Jenny’s mom arrived at this time, and she told me how she got pulled over in Plainfield going 70 miles an hour in a 35 mph zone. She dumped the contents of the purse on her car seat when the officer asked for her license, which was cause enough to let her go with a verbal warning. It’s probably the only time anyone I know will get off going double the speed limit.
I’m not someone who likes anything surgical. I once passed out in a hospital visiting my grandfather when he showed me x-rays of his heart surgery. I also nearly passed out several years ago when doctors were preparing Jenny for a surgery to have an ovary removed. Last year when I was being prepared for a colonoscopy, I nearly passed out.
The delivery room was no exception. While I held Jenny’s hand during the caesarian, I had to be wheeled out after I started getting light headed. All had started well, as the doctors and nurses in the delivery room enjoyed my telling about her mother’s speeding exploits, but when Jenny said them “pulling” her innards kind of hurt, all the blood went out of my head. I kept thinking about the last scene in “Braveheart” where William Wallace was vivisected.
Outside the delivery room, I drank juice and talked to my mother-in-law, which allowed the blood to return to my head, and when I heard Declan’s little kitten-like cry, I was quickly back in the delivery room.
He was crying and looked healthy, albeit smaller than all the babies I’ve ever handled. Dr. Ralph Locher, the pediatrician who came in for the delivery, said he looked healthy, despite being so early. In attempting to take a photo, I started to get light-headed again and had to be wheeled away a second time.
After recovering and after the doctors and nurses finished with Jenny, we had an opportunity to see little Declan for a few minutes before he was taken to the Marshfield Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Ministry St. Joseph’s Hospital, for strictly precautionary reasons as Dr. Locher nicely explained to us.
Declan is doing well in Marshfield. After losing a little weight, as they expect babies to do, he’s gained an ounce in four days. He’s breathing and feeding well, and hopefully will come home soon. We were told premature babies can sometimes be in the NICU until their expected due date, but all we’ve talked to think it’ll be much sooner than that.
Dr. Petkov told us Jenny’s motherly instinct to come in was essential to him being in the good condition he is in now. Her placenta was failing, and his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. If she hadn’t, it’s likely he would not have survived.
Of course, we’re thankful for the incredible care we received at St. Michael’s. All the nurses and doctors have been extraordinary. At one point, between nearly passing out, I remember seeing the dozen or so people in the delivery room and thinking most of them had to be called in to help us. They were taking time out of their weekend schedule to do something very heroic. I can’t write anything that would thank them enough for their service. Thank you.
As for the name, Declan, it’s one I discovered at the hospital Saturday. I was reading some back issues of Rolling Stone magazine, and in an article about Danny McBride, an actor who plays Kenny Powers on HBO’s “Eastbound & Down,” it talked about his newborn son Declan. I suggested it to Jenny, and she said maybe.
After looking the name up, it became a definite. A Gaelic name that means “full of goodness,” it was the name of an Irish saint who immediately preceded St. Patrick. Half Irish, and with another son with an Irish name, it was a no-brainer. In addition, it’s not common, unlike Braden which seemed like every fourth kid was named after we chose that one.
My wife and I aren’t planning on having any more children. So if you have a name suggestion, send it to someone else you know who is expecting. Make sure you make the suggestion as soon as possible, as we discovered we needed one earlier than we had anticipated.
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Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 20, 2012.
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