I started writing this days after Jonah was born. I wanted Janet to read it to make sure nothing seemed crazy to her. She’ll eventually write her own birth story, and I’ll post it here, if she’s okay with that. 

————————————————————————————————-

I’m going to write this before I forget any of the amazing details of the day you were born, sweet Jonah. Yours is a magical story of strength, endurance, kindness, and love. 

Monday, April 7, 2014

Janet called me at about 4:00 to let me know that she didn’t feel well. She felt nauseous and light-headed. Her nurses had taken her blood pressure, and it was pretty high. She was having tightening of her upper uterus, and she couldn’t relax it away. I called our midwife/OB practice for advice. I got Janet on the phone, they asked some questions, and ultimately, they instructed us to go to the hospital to “get checked.”

I hastily through a few things in a tiny suitcase, climbed in the car, and drove away to meet Janet for what was hopefully going to be a quick trip to the hospital before dinner at Sweet Tomatoes salad bar. I mean, we’d be in the neighborhood, so…

Janet’s coworker, JJ, was kind enough to drive her halfway toward Atlanta where I picked her up in a McDonald’s parking lot. We sped along 285 to Northside Hospital, thankfully traveling against traffic with no delays.

We checked in where all expectant moms check in, as if we were going to have a baby soon. Pssh. They took us to a room. It was a delivery room. They told Janet to get undressed and put on a hospital gown. I put my backpack down and asked, “Why are we in this room? Don’t they have some sort of triage?!” I was a little alarmed, but Janet kept reassuring me that it was just routine, and she felt “silly” for being there. She was certain we’d be on our way soon.

A midwife from our practice came in – Amy – who gave us our first glimpse into the coming days. “Preeclampsia,” “induction,” “at least 24-hours of observation” were all dropped, and Janet and I sobered at their mention.

What was about to happen to us? We had 4 more weeks of pregnancy! We had a maternity photo shoot the next weekend as well as another baby shower with Janet’s CHOA friends! I had a semester to finish! Janet had work to do! We never got to the stencils in the baby’s room! We hadn’t taken the carseat out of the box, much less installed it in our car!

Specialists and doctors were consulted, and the decision was made that it was time to have a baby. Janet’s body could not tolerate pregnancy for another 4 weeks. The baby was almost full term (shy by only 5 days at that time).

During this scary and exciting revelation, I got sick. I began vomiting and having diarrhea – like, uncontrollably. At one point, I had to excuse myself from a doctor’s consultation. I ran into the bathroom, holding my mouth, vomit spilling from my nose. Was it NERVES? Didn’t it HAVE to be? I don’t get sick like this. Well, not in years. There was that one time. It was another stressful situation. Could it be that I was having a gastrointestinal reaction to the most stressful day of my life? Perhaps. Nonetheless, it was inconvenient, and I needed to pull it together!

We called Sarah and Lea. They fed George and brought us food, which I proceeded to ignore as I laid on the couch and tried to compose myself. Zofran was a welcome treat from the depths of my bookshelf, where I had last seen it a few weeks prior.

Sarah: “You guys are about to have a BABY.”

Janet: “This is crazy.”

Ellie: “There’s an 8×10 rug and a 50 pound bag of cement in my car. We need the carseat. I packed a ridiculous bag.”

Lea: “Don’t worry, friend. We got you.”

Thank god for Sarah and Lea. No, really – THANK GOD, the Universe, Mother Nature, and all that is holy for these friends of ours.

We got settled into our real room (C2), which was just like the first room, except in an active hallway. Janet got Cervadil applied to her cervix, Sarah sat with her, and Lea and I hauled back to Brower Street to get things in order for our hospital stay.

My mind wouldn’t still long enough to figure out what it was that I knew we would need. I packed yet another robe, Janet’s slippers, several pairs of Janet’s socks, a couple of shirts for me, a couple pairs of underwear for myself, a dress for Janet to wear home, and some baby clothes. The things I had bought for him to come home in were probably going to be WAY TOO BIG. So I found some of the wonderful hand-me-downs that were itty-bitty and stuck those in the bag along with the nautical jumper and soft kimono onesie from that fancy baby boutique that I’ve banned myself from. I packed pajamas and toiletries, and away we went: back to the hospital.

That night, after Sarah and Lea left us, we went to sleep in our own beds. How strange: in our most uncertain time, we had to sleep alone. It was probably best, since I was still feeling terrible, and I later found out that Janet didn’t actually sleep at all because of the cramping that the Cervadil caused. I woke up when the nurse came in to check on her. The night seemed never ending.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

In the morning, we got a visit from the new midwife on call, Wanda. She checked Janet: one centimeter. She mentioned a C-section, but told us she would be conferring with the OB on call, Dr. Rush. While she was gone, I comforted a pretty disappointed Janet. Lots of wonderfully-intentioned women have C-sections, despite best efforts and strength. In the long run, it wouldn’t matter… But I knew how hard she had prepared for her birth. I knew she had mentally and physically aligned herself to climb Everest, yet she was on the edge of being forced into the equivalent of a helicopter ride instead.

And then Wanda returned with good news! The doctor wanted to give her the Pitocin, and potentially “stage her” for a second night/day of cervix-ripening and induction. Meaning: she’d have Pitocin during the day Tuesday, Cervadil overnight again, and then Pitocin the next day with the hopes that she would deliver on Wednesday.

They took the Cervadil out. Janet got a shower and a bite to eat. Apple and trail mix. Alice was coaching us by text message, thank goodness. She reminded me to ask about the shower, and she strongly advised that Janet have a secret snack to fuel her through the day. After the short break, on came the Pitocin. We were surprised that with the Pitocin came some rest for Janet. I was still recovering from feeling wretched, so we both slept. I dragged myself up to check on Janny, and I continued to have diarrhea. (Now would be the time that I might mention that I crapped my pants that morning, except that seems uncivilized, so I’ll just keep it to myself.)

Stu arrived in the early afternoon, and brought a bit of distraction to the room. He and Janet chatted while I slumped in the corner, wondering how I was going to explain this to my professors or finish the semester with a shred of motivation. I worried about almost everything that day, but I never really worried about Jonah. They kept saying how great he looked, and just like when Anis was born really early, I knew he was going to be okay. Not in a delusional way, but more in a way that just IS. I had a sense. I knew Janet and Jonah would be okay. Nonetheless, I worried about how it would happen – the birth. Would we still have the vaginal birth we wanted? Would they force us into a C-section even after all of the ripening and inducing and staging? Would Janet become so exhausted that she’d want an epidural? Would she wait too long to allow herself that comfort? If her platelets fell too low, she couldn’t have an epidural. But if she HAD to have a C-section while her platelets were low, she would deliver our sweet baby under general anesthesia!! All of it seemed too scary to consider, but I couldn’t consider anything but all of the worst scenarios.

Then there was the updating of the loved ones. I’ll admit it: I wasn’t very good at it. For one thing, I don’t like repeating myself. For another thing, I didn’t want to have 15 text conversations with 15 different people, saying the same thing again and again, while Janet was having contractions. It didn’t seem right. I had a job to do, and texting wasn’t it. I did some, and I hoped others were sharing information, and sometimes I just ignored texts. Oh well. There wasn’t much to tell that was of great interest anyway. “We’re waiting,” was basically all I wanted to say.

Stu found a hotel, and I drove him there. On my way back to the hospital, I stopped at Chin Chin China and got steamed vegetables with white rice. That seemed nice and easy on the tummy for both Janet and me. The cafeteria had NOTHING that I wanted to put down my gullet that day or night. Blech. All of it seemed heavy, fatty, vomit-inducing or – you know. So Janet and I each ate about four bites of food and stored the rest in the fridge.

Blair brought me immodium, nausea medicine, and two giant Smart Waters to rehydrate me that night. Thank GOODNESS for her special delivery! I felt so much better after some immodium.

We moved hospital rooms again that night. From C2 to B1, since all the other women on the C hallway had delivered their babies. That made us kind of sad. We got moved because we didn’t have a baby yet. Janet got wheeled over, and I schlepped all of the stuff we had accumulated. I remade the bed, appreciated the *real* window in the new room, and we bedded down for the night.

It was a bit of a rough night for Janet. She woke up in terrible pain at about 12:30 AM, and finally took a little something so she could sleep through the cramping of the second dose of Cervadil. It did the trick.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

We were woken up by Kirby the nurse the next morning, and she removed the Cervadil. Kirby told us all about her best friend’s wedding, for which she would be the Maid of Honor. Her friend sounded a bit like a bridezilla, and poor Kirby was being forced to organize and facilitate all of her friend’s crazy dreams for her wedding, like a bachelorette party in Vegas. Ridiculous! We commiserated.

A duo of women came in shortly after 7:30 to have a chat with us. They told us that “today is this baby’s birthday!” Janet’s condition wasn’t improving, and the only solution was to have a baby, one way or another. They checked her cervix: 1 centimeter and about 60% effaced, which represented no marked change since the day before. Phooey! They recommended a Cook’s catheter to get things moving. It’s a stiff catheter with two balloons; one goes in the uterus, and the other remains in the vaginal vault. They are each filled with 80 cc’s of water, forming two donut-shaped balloons that put pressure on the cervix from the inside and the outside. Since her cervix was soft, the catheter was intended to get her to 4 centimeters. Janet was okay with it, and I was really gung-ho. “Let’s do it!” I said. In hindsight, that might not’ve been my place, but I’m glad we did it. Well. Janet did it. I just sat by her side.

The aforementioned duo were the team of Janice Taleff and Shawn Marie Fox. Janice is an experienced midwife from our group who only takes call at the hospital (she doesn’t see patients in the office). Shawn Marie is a midwifery student, preparing to graduate from Emory in 33 days from the day we met her. Both were calm, confident, and very comforting.

Shawn Marie placed the catheter. Janet clenched my hand and breathed through what seemed like a pretty uncomfortable “filling of the balloons.” The midwives told us we were their priority for the day and that they’d be back to check on us in a little while. It was then that I gave Alice the Doula the green light to make her way to the hospital.

Stu arrived, took some video, sat quietly, and retreated to the waiting area for a day of patience. It was nice knowing he was there, cheering us on and updating folks from his corner of the lobby.

Alice arrived and helped Janet breathe through what were turning out to be strong and frequent contractions. She breathed through each, and then she promptly fell asleep, waking up only when the next crescendo approached. What a trooper! The next several hours consisted of music from our wedding, stories, chitchat, changing of positions, returning to the bed when Janet’s blood pressure was too high, etc.

Having Alice there was invaluable. She was so comforting to Janet, and I was able to use the bathroom, grab lunch, and run out to update Stu without worrying about leaving Janet. We leaned on her so heavily that day. She made everything better.

After a few hours of contractions, Shawn Marie and Janice came back in to check the progress of the catheter. If it had done its job, they would likely break her water. If it hadn’t, depending on the progress that had been made, they might consider a C-section! The deflation of the catheter seemed just as painful as the insertion, if not more so. Janet clasped my hand as they used a syringe to drain the water from each balloon. Shawn Marie then checked Janet’s cervix and TADA! She was 4 full centimeters and 90% effaced!

They brought out the “rubbing implement” (they made it clear that the “crochet hook” term used to describe the water-breaker was slightly inaccurate, as the tool was used to rub a hole in the amniotic sac instead of hooking it). Janet relaxed her bottom, spread her knees, and Shawn Marie used the tool to spill amniotic fluid onto the bed. It wasn’t a geyser, but there was an excellent gush followed by a nice flow. Shawn Marie could feel the baby’s head and said he had some hair! Neat-o.

Janet’s contractions immediately strengthened. Out came the vowel-sound breathing, instigated by Alice and performed by all three of us. Janet clenched our hands again, and we entered into a trance-like rhythm of breathing. It was like what I imagine meditation is supposed to feel like. (I’m terrible at meditation. I have a hard time stilling my mind. The breath sounds really helped me. Note to self.)

Jan mentioned a few times that it “really f*cking hurt.” I tried really hard not to laugh, as she wasn’t in a place to appreciate the humor of her timing or delivery.

After a while, she mentioned to Alice that she felt rectal pressure. Alice said she had thought so, based on the sounds she had been making. She fetched the midwives (“Call the midwife!”), Shawn Marie did a check, and BAM! She was 10 centimeters dilated and the baby was at position +1 (one step before crowning). It was go time.

A flurry of activity started in the room, while Alice and I continued to breathe with Janet. At one point, Shawn Marie and Janice were breathing with us, and it felt like the whole room was pulsing. It was an amazing experience.

As I realized that it was almost time to meet our baby, I cried. The whole thing was so damn beautiful, and I’m a sap from way back. The energy was amazing, and I couldn’t believe that the moment I had dreamt of for so long was finally here. Janet was doing it! She was about to give birth to our baby.

The midwives told Janet to listen to their instructions for pushing. Alice brought out the lavender essential oils, which made everything so much better. With each contraction, Janet followed instruction to push into the pain. I got to see the baby’s head descend and then retract with each push.

And finally they said it was just a couple more pushes from being done – Janet appeared not to believe them. “It really f*cking hurts.” “We know it does, Janet. You’re about to meet your baby!” She didn’t care.

I stopped holding her leg to watch as she pushed our baby out; first the head, and then the rest of him tumbled out without effort. Shawn Marie caught him and put him immediately on Janet’s chest. Janet looked at me in disbelief. “Oh my god,” she said. Oh my god, indeed.

They clamped and cut the cord right away. He had been showing a little distress in the birth canal, but quickly realized it was because he was holding his umbilical cord in his right hand as he entered the world. Ha! Nonetheless, the NICU team was there to check him out.

He got whisked away to the corner. Alice gently reminded me to go with him. “Oh yeah!” I said. Thanks again, Alice. Man!

I went over and took pictures while the nurses gave him a gentle pounding on the back to get him to clear the fluid from his lungs. He looked like, “What in the world are you doing to me? I’M FINE.” I cried, snapped photos, and talked to him while he was cleared from further treatment. He got weighed and measured, and he was finally placed back on Janet’s chest.

Wow. Wow. Wow.

We never even wrote a birth plan, but if we had, so much of it would’ve been what actually happened in room B1 that night. We wanted a few things to go differently, but precautions are what you get in a hospital, and we were so glad to be in a hospital because of Janet’s health.

 

———————————————

And that’s all I wrote. Jonah turned five months old today, and I’m so glad to have this to read. The rest of our stay at the hospital was emotional, difficult, and surreal. Jonah went back and forth to the nursery. Janet was a zombie so she wouldn’t have a seizure. I was exhausted and worried and sad. It was pretty hard. We enjoyed our brief time on the postpartum floor, which is where healthy moms and babies get to stay together in the same room – all the time – no matter what. And then we went home to start our life.