Editor’s Note: This is a letter I have written to my second daughter, Quinn Everly Butynski, who was born on April 13.
Hello sweet daughter,
Two and a half years ago, your mother and I underwent the biggest life-changing moment of our lives when your older sister Charlotte was born. It was not an easy birth. Mom was in rough shape following the delivery, but she was still determined to add to our family. And so, 30 months later, on April 13, we found ourselves driving to Baystate Franklin Medical Center at 6 a.m.
I still remember finding out that we were pregnant with you. It was August 13. I was busy working on the farm that morning, as I do every summer morning, when I got a call from your mother. She asked me if I could take Charlotte for a few hours, as she was preparing to get ready to attend the bridal shower of your aunt Vanessa. I made the short trip home from the farm to pick Charlotte up, and when I walked in the house, Charlotte was holding artwork she had made for me. This drawing, however, was unlike any previous works of art; it said, “Hey dad, I’m going to be a big sister.”
I must admit I stood there shocked for a moment. Mom was smiling, Charlotte was sort of looking at me confused, and I just stood there for a moment, totally caught off guard. My shock quickly turned to tears of joy, and I embraced mom and Charlotte.
The next few months flew by as we prepared our lives for the addition of our second child. Just like with your sister, mom and I decided not to find out the gender of our baby. Every visit to Pioneer Women’s included us telling the doctors, midwives and nurses that we didn’t want to know. Admittedly, it was more difficult the second time around to keep ourselves in the dark. There were times when we were getting ultrasounds done by Cheryl at Pioneer Women’s that I wanted to peek when she told mom and me to close our eyes. Although I could hardly make out arms and legs much of the time, so trying to figure out your gender was unlikely even if I did look.
Your original due date was April 18, which would have been exactly 30 months to the day that your older sister had been born, as Charlotte’s birthday was November 18, 2015. Instead, you were scheduled to come into the world on April 13.
Perhaps it was no coincidence that your birthday was Friday the 13th. After all, the birth of your older sister was somewhat of a horror show, as mom suffered a Level 4 tear that required several surgeries. While I am hardly a superstitious person we actually looked at the date as a sign that all would be well with your birth.
After nine months of waiting, April 13 finally came. Of course, it did not come without some drama. Friday was the third and final day of the three-day nurses’ strike at Baystate Franklin, which was not something that made either mom or me too excited. After the incredible treatment that we received from the midwives and nurses when Charlotte was born, we were worried about having “Traveling Nurses” on the day that you were delivered.
When we arrived at the hospital at 6 a.m., we were greeted by a security person who asked to see our badges. Apparently the 10-month pregnant woman flanked by a man with several overnight bags was not enough to signal the reason why we were there. Instead, it was as though we were entering a federal building. It was cold, and only added to the apprehension we had about delivering during the strike.
Once we got to the third floor, we were warmly greeted and shown to our room, No. 300, which was located at the end of one of the halls. Two of the traveling nurses came in and began to get us set for the 7:30 a.m. C-section. Again, our fears were made a bit worse when one of the nurses struggled to set Mom’s IV twice, the second time causing a great deal of pain. I know the traveling nurses were not lesser trained, but it wasn’t a comforting start. Another nurse came in and got Mom’s IV set, and things began to progress.
I was given a pair of scrubs to put on, which I promptly did, and soon Dr. Lepore and midwife Cate were in the room, explaining a few last-minute things before it was time to head to the surgical room. You should know that both Dr. Lepore and midwife Cate were amazing during the entire pregnancy. Both were involved in the birth of Charlotte, and in the procedures that followed. Knowing that mom and I were both struggling with anxiety over your birth, they also invited us to the hospital about a month early, where they met us and walked us through the entire C-section procedure, which was far beyond anything required of them. Those two will forever be remembered for the kindness they have shown us both over the years.
When mom walked into the C-section room to begin preparations, I was told to wait in a room across the hall and of course, I was a mess. I tried to put on TV, but I began to pace. I went into the bathroom and snapped a selfie of me in scrubs, and texted your uncle Todd (my brother) and uncle Jeff (my co-worker and close friend) the picture, with the caption “Grey’s Anatomy, more like Jay’s Anatomy,” a little play-on words to the popular TV drama set in a hospital. I also had a nurse drop in for a brief visit during my wait, and she asked about how Charlotte was taking the news of the addition to the family. Charlotte actually came up with names for you. If you were a boy, she wanted you to be named “Spider,” and if you were a girl, she wanted to name you “Boy.”
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity — but was really some 30 minutes — I was taken into the surgical room. If you have never been involved in a C-section, it’s an overwhelming sight when you step through the windowless door. Mom was laid out on a table with her arms strapped down, and a drape was hanging from the ceiling that came down to mommy’s tummy. There were at least a dozen people in the room, each with a specific job to do. Mom had already been given a spinal to dull all pain, and Dr. Lepore immediately began the procedure as I took a seat on a stool.
Things happened quickly. Even though mommy could not feel pain, she could feel things happening, and she described it as though I was sitting on her stomach. She persevered through the discomfort, and suddenly someone was told to lower the drape, and I lifted mom’s head gently off the table so we could watch you come into the world. At 8:15 a.m., as tears welled up in my eyes, you suddenly appeared, crying softly. As Dr. Lepore held you up, it was my job to announce the gender. Looking through the clear piece of plastic that still hung between us and the baby, I made the announcement.
“It’s a boy, we have a baby boy,” I said through tears.
It was at that point that everyone in the room stopped and an awkward silence filled the room. Prior to the procedure, everyone in the room was told not to announce the gender, because it was one thing we had wanted to do. Rather than correct me, Dr. Lepore moved the umbilical cord aside so I could get a better look, and I laughed a bit as I recanted my announcement.
“Wait, it’s a girl. It’s a girl,” I said to my wife, who at this point was a bit confused and asked me to clarify. I again told her that you were in fact a girl, and I went and cut the cord. Forty-five minutes after you were born, mom and I returned to our room and began our four-day recovery in the hospital.
The four days moved by relatively fast, as mom and I watched Parks & Recreation and The Office while snuggling you. The regular nurses returned Friday night, and it was nice to have people back who knew where everything was. And they were amazing. Kristi, Terri and Sophia were our nurses for much of the time, but the entire staff was great once again, just as they were when Charlotte was born. Mom and me are very grateful.
On Saturday night, you took in your first Boston Bruins game with dad, as we sat and watched the Bruins crush Toronto, 7-3, in Game 2 of their first-round playoff series. Coincidentally, the first Bruins game Charlotte and I watched was also against Toronto, a 2-0 victory by the B’s back in 2015. On Sunday night, it snowed, and when we checked out Monday afternoon, I had to clear a bit of slush off the car.
That was 12 days ago and, so far, everything is going great. You are a much more relaxed baby than your older sister, and mom and me are both keeping our fingers crossed that you will be a much better sleeper. Mom is healing well, and Charlotte loves you.
I must admit, my greatest fear leading up to your birth was in regards to love. I love Charlotte with all of my heart, and I was worried about how I could possibly have more love inside of me to give to you. It just didn’t seem possible. I told this to someone, perhaps my own parents, in the days leading up to your birth, and they told me not to worry.
“You just do,” they said when I asked how you could possibly have more love to give another child.
I can’t really explain it, even as I sit her now, more than a week later, but they were right. I never went looking for any more love to give. It was there all along.
A proud father of two daughters.
Jason Butynski is a Greenfield native and Recorder sportswriter. His email address is jbutynski@recorder.com. Like him on Facebook and leave your feedback at www.facebook.com/jaybutynski.