A Day to Celebrate Life: 9/11

It was a slow morning at home. Jeff took the girls to school as I drove to the city for my NST. The baby was due in just a couple of weeks and my blood pressure was creeping up with each appointment. My OB had taken me off work and I was scheduled for bi-weekly Non-Stress Tests until my due date. Jeff was always willing to go to my appointments with me, but for some reason I told him it wasn’t necessary this time; the appointments were long and boring and I would just see him later. I arrived and was quickly led in to the room of Lazy Boy recliners, each occupied by a round-bellied mommy reading the latest scandal reported by People. The rhythmic sound of echoing heartbeats filled the room as I was strapped up and settled in. All was good, my little one passed his test yet again and I headed to the front desk to confirm my next date and time. Just as I turned, reminder card in hand, the nurse came out to the waiting room and asked me to come back in. The doctor saw something that concerned her on my test and wanted to talk to me. Dr. Jeanie told me she noticed, after a more careful review, that my little one was having slight heartbeat decelerations after each contraction. They weren’t dramatic but could be a reason for concern. She called in a colleague for a consultation and they agreed; I should be induced and have this baby today. Today? The instructed me to head next door to the hospital, they would call ahead so Labor & Delivery would be ready when I arrived. I left the clinic and walked next door in a daze; all alone, nothing but my car keys in hand.

Instinctually I arrived at the department where my mother works, at the same hospital. She was in meeting but I managed to get her attention. I think she could tell something was wrong by the look on my face. I told her they were inducing me right away because the baby was having decelerations and I was alone. My numbness wore off and the fear was finally given a voice as tears pour down my face. Thankfully Mom took charge, as mothers often do. She excused herself from the meeting and led me to her office where we called Jeff. Very calmly she told him she would take me to L&D and instructed him to get a bag together and drive carefully to the hospital. As she made a few more calls to my step-dad and sister (who was to be our videographer) I could tell her 20 years of being a nurse in the NICU were beginning to remind her of what could be. Her voice began to quiver.

We arrived and were quickly put in a room, hooked to the monitor, history given and IV inserted. As they began the Pitocin I informed them of my last labor and delivery using the same contraction inducing drug. Less than three hours from the insertion of an IV, my daughter Emily was in my arms. It all happened so quickly there was no time for my epidural or any other kind of drug to ease the burning sensation between my legs (to this day we have to watch her birth video in mute). I was determined not to let that happen again and convinced the nurses and the anesthesiologist to give me my epidural right away. Then the waiting began. It wasn’t long before the room was filled with my husband, my mother and my sister with the occasional visits from nurses and doctors checking my progress. As the contractions grew in strength, my baby’s heartbeat continued to drop. It seemed to help when I lay on my right side, so I spent the next several hours with my back to the TV, staring at the accordion door that hid the birthing equipment from view until it was needed. I didn’t mind. My family was having a hard time finding anything on TV that didn’t mark the two-year anniversary of death and devastation as I lay on my side in anticipation of life and eyes opening to their first vision of light.

It was dinner time by now and Dr. Jeannie came in to check me again. The baby’s decelerations were getting dangerously low and if I wasn’t ready to begin pushing we would need to seriously consider an emergency cesarean. No, I said. I can do this, please don’t strap me to a table and cut me open. My hopes sank as she told me I was only dilated to eight. She said there was something she would try before we went into surgery. Dr. Jeanie inserted a balloon into my uterus that she filled with saline to alleviate the pressure the contractions were putting on my baby. Within a few more minutes I was dilated to nine. Only one to go and I could start pushing. At this point to my astonishment, Dr. Jeannie quickly put me in the stirrups, inserted her hand into me and told me to begin pushing. As I pushed, she used her fingers to manually stretch my cervix. We would push our way to ten together. With my husband by my side, my mom seated in corner and my sister with video camera in hand the top of our baby’s head made its first appearance. Suddenly I heard Dr. Jeanie exclaim, “Ah ha…that’s what was giving us all the problems.” She told me to stop pushing as she cut the umbilical cord that was so tightly wrapped around his neck she had trouble getting the clamps on it. With the next push, our son was born. As he lay on my chest, the tears once again came.

Thank you Mom for being the level head when I needed it, for being my mom.

Thank you Stephie for sharing with me (and taping) one of the most wonderful moments of my life.

Thank you Dr. Jeanie for working so hard to allow me to have the birth I wanted.

Thank you Jeff for helping me to create, with love, the most precious boy I have ever known.

Happy 3rd Birthday Isaac David, my SugarLips.