So, it was a week ago. Exactly one week ago at this moment, 9:43am, we were headed to church. Late. But we had made it out the door, grabbed some Mickey D's on the way, and were headed to church. It was quite a feat to be sure, and there was no way we were REALLY thinking that we'd be having a baby.
The day turned out like almost any other Sunday. We finished church, brought the kids home, had lunch, put the kids for a nap, and when they woke up we got them ready for Cubbies. We had issues getting out the door...children who were lost in their dramatics and/or excitement and couldn't see any reason to obey the simple requests made of them...but once again, we made it out the door.
The plan was to drop off the two older children at Cubbies, then Jeff, baby A, and I would make a Target run for some basics before my mom and/or baby arrived. We accomplished *some* of that plan... we dropped off one child at Cubbies (the other had staged a level 5 meltdown and was kept with us), and then made a detour for something to eat. Since I was still recovering from a cold I’d been fighting, we decided to go to Chipotle. As we pulled into the parking lot, we hit a pothole.
BUMP!
Oh, that bump. I'm not sure whether it was actually the bump that became the last straw for baby Samuel or whether it was the threat of him being on the other end of some "Spicier-than-he's-experienced" Mexican food, but either way, as we hit that pot hole, I jumped. Contraction #1. I wasn't sure at first, but when it didn't just fade away, I quietly got out my phone and handy-dandy contraction timer app. :) (Thanks, Tiff, for the reminder.)
Jeff noticed, and asked if I had a contraction. I hesitated, but said yes, I thought it was, but I was sure it was nothing because all of the "normal" signs/symptoms of labor, for me, were absent.
Lesson #1: When either pregnant or in labor, I will be in denial. If I think there's a chance I might be, most likely, I'm wrong.
Jeff got a little concerned and called his sister as a "warning call"... "This could happen tonight, you need to have your bags packed and by the door...Megan just had her first contraction." I thought it was a bit premature, but refer to lesson #1 above...in hindsight, I’m so glad we made that call.
We stopped at Chipotle, Jeff ran in for the food and I sat in the car with the kids. Another contraction or two, uncomfortable but nothing serious and nothing long enough to make me concerned...so when Jeff returned, we continued on to Target. I figured if these were Braxton-Hicks or false labor, walking around the store might make it stop.
Somehow, by the time we made it to Target, we realized that we had run out of time to do any shopping and still manage to get back to church on time. So we left, still having contractions, and went to pick up our little Cubbie.
Realize everything kept changing. The contractions were consistent...coming in at 5-7 minutes apart, but were short (as in 30-seconds-short), so I considered it to be either pre-/false labor, or just weird Braxton-Hicks. All the way home, it didn't let up, and there were even a few that were closer together.
I will admit that the thought of “maybe we should call this in, or just go to the hospital and check things out” did cross my mind. But I was convinced that the contractions were too short to do anything and since I had not experienced the “normal” signs/symptoms of “we’re-gonna-have-a-baby-today” (and for each of the other 3 it was the same) I didn’t make that call. We couldn’t truly be in labor. I was afraid that I'd show up at the hospital and they'd say, "This is just a false labor... it'll taper off and you'll be fine." I did *not* want to go through all of that. (The ride to the hospital would be at least 35-45 minutes!!) So, we (I) waited.
When we got home, the plan was that Jeff would get things together work-wise, I'd put something on the TV for the kids and give them a snack while I ran around (as much as a 9-month pregnant woman who is contracting can) putting things together in my hospital bag.
No. I had not packed my bag before then. And yes, the piles of clean laundry that I had planned to fold once it was all done, were still mounded making this task just a touch more difficult than I had hoped it to be. Thankfully, I was able to find the things I wanted to take with me (nursing shirt, black jersey skirt that I thank God I was able to find, socks, 2 outfits for baby) and I put them in a bag, ready to go.
After all of this, I was tired...I hurt...the contractions kept consistent, and were even getting slightly more intense, but were not getting any longer. I called my mom just to tell the family that we *might* be having a baby that day or the next. That I was sure it wasn't going to be soon because my contractions weren't long enough.
Fateful quote of the phone call? "...and I'm pretty sure that 30 second contractions aren't enough to birth a baby...know what I mean?" Um, yeah...
Lesson #2: 30-second contractions *ARE*, indeed, enough to birth a baby.
I decided to lay down on the couch and see if I could get any reprieve from the contractions. They were beginning to be annoying and uncomfortable. Laying down spread them out a little and I was able to catch my breath and rest a bit. Jeff and I watched some TV. When the show was over and the contractions hadn't stopped, but were getting a little more intense, Jeff decided to call his sister, Becky. He told her to head to our place and worst case scenario, she'd just spend the night and go home in the morning.
We got the kids ready for bed, put them to bed, and waited a little longer before Becky arrived. By the time she got there, the contractions were still coming, still painful, but still no longer than 30-45 seconds long. We called the doc/midwife's office and told them we were in labor.
(side note...I had joked that it'd be great to go into labor over the weekend because the midwife that I liked was on duty... not to mention from the moment we found out we were pregnant and had our first ultrasound, I’d always felt that March 5th would be the day… kind of funny.)
When the midwife called back, she said we could come, we could wait, it was up to us. I didn’t know what to do. The contractions were still short, I could still talk through them if I needed to... Jeff said we were coming, so we left the house and our midwife would wait to hear where things were once we got to the hospital.
We made our way out to the car, Jeff grabbed a towel and asked if we should put it down on the seat in case my water broke. I wasn't sure (my water has never broken on its own before until just before baby arrives) but decided, What the heck? I'll put it down. Yes. This was a good decision. Time? A little before midnight.
The RIDE
The contractions kept coming but remained short, though uncomfortable. It was becoming less and less fun to be sitting in the car bouncing along with the poorly kept roads. Jeff was going pretty fast, but I wasn't looking... I was starting to get to the point of realization that we just needed to get to the hospital. Not that I thought we were going to have a baby (refer to lesson #1), but I wanted them to tell me it was false labor, have my body hear it, and stop. :)
The closer we got to the hospital (and by closer, I mean, every inch closer), the more I started to think that somehow I was wrong and we *were* going to have this baby. About that point, I had two contractions in a row. Two short, but not-fun contractions. When this happened, I had the brief thought that I might be in transition. This was followed by the realization that if I was, we were *not* going to make it to the hospital. My mind took a brief second to consider telling Jeff to pull in at the nearest hospital…but since I was so deep in denial, climbing out of it was going to take more than just these two short contractions.
Jeff asked if he should take me to a different hospital, but...I didn't know. I just knew this was not fun anymore and I wanted it to stop. Besides, surely we were not going to have the baby in the car… I mean, who does that? It’s so crazy uncommon so what are the odds? I’m not going to end up being one of *those* people. :) Jeff sped up a little more, and we got closer yet to the hospital.
**Allow me to pause here to explain something. This particular hospital was not our Plan A, but due to circumstances that would take too long to explain right now, we were forced to leave our first midwife’s practice and find a new provider. Being unwilling to just “settle” for the “only people that could take me since I was “high risk” and 36-weeks pregnant, I found an office that was great, but was 40-45 minutes away. We had made this trip before with my 2nd born, so we knew it was a doable drive, we just needed to have proper planning to allow for the trip. Had we been going to the Plan A hospital, we’d have made it with just enough time to get to a room and call the doc in, I’m sure. But that’s irrelevant. Back to the story…**
Then, I had a contraction where I felt like I was really close to that “urge to push”. This is when I got a little concerned. There’s nothing like that thought of, “We really are going to have to have this baby in the car.” Granted, the concern I felt that we would not make it to the hospital was soon pushed aside by the thought/feeling of “let’s just get this over with”. I am not sure where exactly we were on the road when I realized we were *NOT* going to make it to the hospital. No matter how fast Jeff drove. No matter which hospital he chose. No matter...no matter anything. We were on the highway and the idea of "waiting for the urge to push" had come to be "um, yeah...it's about time to push." I finally climbed out of denial and told Jeff that we were not going to make it.
Jeff tried to make it a little farther, and tried calling the doc again. He called 911, and when the doc returned our call he hung up on them. He told the doc we needed her AT the hospital when we got there because the baby was coming and we weren't going to wait for her to get there. Then, after he hung up, 911 called him back. In hindsight, it was a very good thing they called back because it was not long later that we needed them. We passed a policeman who, for whatever reason, didn't stop us (we were going pretty fast) but just after passing him, it was very apparent to me that
1. This was, in fact, labor.
2. I did have the urge to push
3. Our baby was going to be born in the car, or ambulance, depending on how long it took for them to get there.
Of course, I didn't care about any of this. At that particular moment, my body was doing what it was supposed to do. It was getting ready to expel a baby and at this point I was just along for the ride. A very bumpy, uncomfortable ride, but I was not in control. I, again, told Jeff we weren’t going ot make it and we just needed to pull over. Granted, I think it came out something like, “Jeff, we’re not going to make it.” “What do you want me to do? Should I pull over?” “I don’t know… Yes, you should probably pull over, but I don’t know… the baby is coming!!” Might’ve made for a good comedy bit.
Jeff pulled over just after we passed through a toll booth and got out of the car leaving his door open (which I remember made me nervous...in between contractions and everything, I was concerned about his door being knocked off by passing cars...random, I know), and came around to my side of the car. The next series of events are both incredibly vivid in my mind and a blur at the same time. I remember Jeff putting his phone on speakerphone and placing it on the dash of the car.
I can remember the operator trying to talk with him but not being able to be heard over me, the traffic and Jeff's own replies. By the time he was at my side, it was time to push and, again, not in control, I pushed. Jeff was still trying to talk with the 911 operator who was telling us paramedics would be there any minute and Jeff telling him they still weren’t there, how long were they going to be.
Another push. I remember the 911 operator asking Jeff something and Jeff being like, "Oh my gosh! The baby is crowning! I can see his head! Those guys really need to get here!"
Another push, and I hear Jeff tell the operator that the baby's head was stuck. This made me worried, I didn't know what that meant. Neither of us had any point of reference for this particular moment in birth. Jeff was usually helping me, encouraging me, and not watching the process; while I was usually just busy in the process and not paying attention to what it looked like. Sure, we’d seen the videos in birthing class, but…
Pushed again and I heard Jeff, a little relieved, tell the operator that the baby's head was out.
Then, another push and the rest of baby was out. I can't remember when Jeff pulled off his sweatshirt to wrap the baby, but he wrapped the baby in his sweatshirt, turned up the heat in the car (doors still open) and handed the baby to me.
At that moment, I felt immense relief. I could finally catch my breath. I heard the operator (who by that time was really behind on the happenings) still asking questions that no longer applied since the baby had been born.
A policeman appeared behind Jeff. Apparently, he had assessed the situation just a few moments before and returned to his car for his medical gear. He later told a nurse, “I came over and checked things out. No baby. I went back to my car, got my gear, returned to their car and the baby had been born.” Then, the paramedics showed up. I never noticed the additional paramedic unit, nor the two other police cars that also showed up, but they were there, also.
The PARAMEDICS
Ah, the paramedics. I'm thinking that not all paramedics have delivered babies...I'm sure they are trained to, but training just doesn't always translate well to real life right away. Not that they were bad, no... they were great, they were helpful and I'm so very appreciative to them. They were, however, just a little giddy and I found it amusing. :)
Remember. I had *just* given birth only moments before, if that. They arrived and a couple of them congratulated Jeff, while one took the baby from him and knelt beside me. They were talking about what they were going to do. It was just the baby, they should probably get the stretcher...they should probably get the stretcher. I think the medic told his guys like twice or three times to bring the stretcher over. Then, there was discussion about how to move me.
"The baby's still attached."
"Should we cut the cord?"
"I don't know... Ma'am, we need to move you and the baby to the stretcher, can you hold the baby and get out?"
Me - "Um, what?! No..."
"Ok, why don't you get me some clamps and something...we'll cut the cord."
"Here's a clamp… I gave the mom the other one."
"I need another clamp."
Me - "Um, I think I have it."
"I gave it to mom."
"Oh, ok. Can you open the scalpel?" (I think I heard this one twice...)
"Ok, let's cut the cord. Then, you take baby to the van and get him warm."
Then, we had to figure out how to get me on the stretcher.
"Ma'am, do you think you can stand?"
Me - "Um, no... I don't really think I can move." (I truly did feel stuck...not paralyzed, but just stiff and unable to comfortably move.)
I tried swinging around to the side so they could help me out of the car.
"Alright, let's do it this way..."
Made it out of the car, onto the stretcher, and into the ambulance. Still just trying to catch my breath and feeling pretty relieved (and shocked) it was over...well...yeah.
They loaded up and began talking about who was staying in this car and who was riding in the other "van". There was talk about APGAR scores...lots of talk about APGAR scores. I heard the guys behind me saying "He's doing great, Mom! He's a healthy little guy!" They kept asking if I wanted to nurse him, but then something else would come up. Then talk about the placenta.
No, it's not delivered.
Medic to my left: One good push mom, and it'll be out.
Medic behind me: (Frantically) NO!! Just let it be, it'll come out on its own!
Medic to my right: (reassuringly, al) When you have a contraction, just push with the contraction, alright?
The medic on my left was going to try and put in an IV line (something I have usually been able to avoid during labor and was hoping to avoid again). The paramedic on my right was taking my information and trying to get my vitals. I heard a lot of talk about APGAR scores all the way to the hospital but apparently, they never did decide on them. Baby was given to me to hold. They gave him a little bit of oxygen, but not much. They tried taking his vitals. Never was able to get the IV in, so they gave up...we were so close to the hospital anyway.
I remember when one of the medics asked how I was doing, I replied by asking if they could find any way to make the trip to the hospital without so many bumps. They told me that we were almost there and after what seemed like several large crater-like potholes, we arrived and came to a stop.
The GREAT ENTRANCE
The doors to the ambulance opened and I could hear Jeff talking with some of the medics and the police officer. They were talking about the whole experience and asking what the baby’s name was. When Jeff told them we hadn’t picked one, I remember hearing someone say, “Alex. You should name him Alex. It sounds like a good name.” Jeff chuckled and asked if that was his name, and I heard the medic reply, “No. It just sounds like a good name to me.”
Now, it’s funny to look back on what happened next. I think Jeff was the one who actually put it into words that made sense and described it perfectly. I will use his description and you will get a very accurate picture in your mind.
You know how in the movies, at the end of some action flick when the hero walks into a building and through the halls, that he has just single-handedly saved from a nuclear explosion? How everyone slowly stands up and begins clapping, one person at a time, until there is a thunderous applause? In the background is some sort of Rudy-style music building to an emotional crescendo? Yeah…that’s what it was like. They wheeled me in on the stretcher, and it seemed like everyone/anyone who was in or near the hallways would greet us with a, “Congratulations!” or “Way to go, Dad!” or something just as happy and encouraging. We made our way through the ER (2-3 halls) and into the Labor/Delivery wing (another 2-3 halls) and everyone nearby/on our route did this! There were even a few people in rooms off the hallway that took a step out as we passed by to congratulate us. Lol. It still brings a smile to my face and I still chuckle thinking about it.
My doctor (midwife) was standing just inside the doors to Labor and Delivery. All suited up and ready to deliver a baby. I remember apologizing, and her response being so laid back and relaxed which, for me, was so very pleasant. They wheeled me into a room and took baby to get his vitals and such.
From there, it’s a little more of a blur. I remember being asked if I wanted to put the gown on over my sweater or not. They asked several times. Every nurse who came in to help would congratulate us, give Jeff a high-five or the equivalent in greeting, and love to talk about our “crazy ride”.
Then, during the entirety of our hospital stay, every nurse who came on duty, when they introduced themselves would comment on how we “sure had an exciting night”. It made me smile every time, and we’d chat for a while. It made for a very pleasant stay and experience and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Summary
In hindsight, it’s pretty amazing to think about. I mean, here I was worried about having been kicked out from my preferred practice. Knowing that I only had 5 visits worth of a relationship with the new practice and that some of my particular history and make-up made half of the practitioners a little freaked out. I was slightly disappointed that all of the great suggestions I was hoping to make or requests I wanted to make to have a more natural and “enjoyable”/normal birth experience were not going to be considered at all because the new practitioners were not at all familiar with my history. I mean, I just wanted to avoid Pitocin for once (they always give me a hit right after baby is born). I wanted to have them take more care in the whole “mashing your belly thing” or postpone it until after I could start nursing. I wanted to be able to avoid the whole monitor thing, lying in bed, and the routine checks that are NEVER comfortable during labor. I wanted to be able to have my baby and know that the doc wasn’t being overcautious or freaked out about things.
I got all of that. No IV. No interventions. No Pitocin. No rough mashing of the belly. No freaked out docs ready to run for meds or blood or whatever. No monitoring. No checks. Granted, I had my baby in a CAR, but…I have to admit that it was the best birthing experience I’ve had to date. I’ve recovered so much better and faster. I was so much more alert and “with it” (as Jeff put it) than I have been with any of the others. I’ve had so much easier of a time, both physically and emotionally, over this last month and I have got to think that the whole “having the baby in the woods” (or on the tollway) experience had to have contributed to that.
So, lessons learned. Yeah. If, or when, we decide (ok, none of our kids have been a “we decide” thing… more like, “God decides”) to have another, there will be a few things we keep in mind as we get close to our due date.
* We won’t rely on my judgment of labor to determine whether or not I’m in labor.
* We’ll treat any/all contractions as 3rd stage labor and get as close to the hospital as possible.
* We’ll make the call for childcare at the first sign of labor and have them ready when we leave (see above).
* I’ll keep in my mind the story of Sammy’s birth and reinforce the thought that I am stronger than I think, and more capable than I give myself credit for and that I can handle it. When it gets to the point of being too much to handle, I will remember that it is that point where I am almost through.
God is good. He sustained us in our crazy situation. He gave us another beautiful and healthy little baby. He heard my cries through the stressful month prior to Samuel’s birth and gave me the desires of my heart when I had given up on them. I’m so grateful to Him for everything, and for the docs/midwife who was so helpful and encouraging even though I’d not known them long. In fact, I’m planning to take them cookies when I see them next.
Behind the name:
About a month or so before Samuel made his exciting entrance to the world, we were still struggling over the question of what to name him. We had a list, but had not been able to narrow it down much. Each week while I was hooked up to the non-stress test machine, I would look over the list, say the names aloud, pray, and try to figure out what to name him and each week, I’d leave the office with absolutely no clue.
Somewhere/sometime during that month, the name Samuel popped up in my head. In my mind, it paired with another name on our list, but I wasn’t sure where the idea was coming from. I mentioned it to Jeff and asked him what he thought. He wasn’t sure about it either and so we looked up the meaning. “God has heard.” Hmm. Interesting, we thought, but we weren’t sold. It just wasn’t there for us.
I got thinking about it further and thought that God had heard a lot of things during this pregnancy. There were a few things I’d been wanting to get for baby and myself before he arrived, but I wasn’t sure how I could (or whether I should) afford it. A few things I bit the bullet and purchased (able to find a credit, percentage off, and cashback scenario) and a few things I left alone. I remember getting an email from someone at church, not long after I’d given up on a few things, asking if I could use anything. I mentioned a few things (not all of them) and after we met and picked up the items, I found that a couple of the “unspoken” items were in the bags. Brought me to tears, I was so very grateful. It was one of those things that I just needed given all the stress I had going on with my doctors.
So, I started to wonder about the name Samuel. God has heard. He had heard and provided these thigns and given me the reassurance that this little guy (who was a BIG surprise in the first place) would be provided for.
Sitting in the hospital room after everything was said, done and over with, Jeff and I got talking about names again. He had brought the name book, and we started relooking at our list. We talked about everything that had just happened. We discussed how I really did get everything that I had wanted from this birth. Samuel just stayed on the table.
Finally, we narrowed it down to 2 names. Jeff decided to call someone and ask their gut/first reaction opinion to the two names we had on the table (after requesting a verbal nondisclosure agreement.) When they chose Samuel for the same reasons we had been discussing it, it was final. God had heard, and God had chosen this child’s name.
So, our Samuel Preston is “consecrated to the God who hears”.
