Up to now, Sarah had no idea she had gone into labor. I could only suspect it, given the pattern of painful urges to push Sarah exhibited, but I’m not a doctor. The line from Gone with the Wind, “I don’t know nothin ‘bout birthin no babies” kept running through my head.
We never got a chance to attend the birthing/parenting classes having scheduled them to begin later in March at another hospital. At one point during the morning I asked Sarah whether she thought these pains were labor pains, but she couldn’t tell. After all, one of drugs she took masked labor pains (both false and real) and now we understood the dangers of not knowing. Also, she expected labor pains to radiate from higher in her abdomen. Mostly, she was two months early.
When Sarah arrived in the maternity ward, the staff immediately wheeled her into a large labor room. Her water finally broke as the nurses lifted her onto the delivery table with Julie’s head clearly crowning as the nurses prep’ed Sarah. The nurses sternly warned Sarah against pushing since the on-call doctor hadn’t arrived yet.
The on-call doctor went to work immediately as he arrived. He instructed Sarah to breathe and push in time with his movements. When Sarah didn’t comply on queue, he curtly accused her of not knowing how to breathe. Sarah shot back, “I didn’t take the classes!” The nurses called for some extra help and surrounded Sarah to help her remain calm and walk her through the process.
On the other side of the hospital, I attempted to navigate the maze of corridors, elevators and locked doors leading from one building to another and another and then get on the right floor. I missed the ward completely since construction in the area had removed some of the signs and closed the main entrance. A nurse ran with me to the far side of the ward and I heard Sarah through the closed door guiding me to the correct room. By the time I entered the delivery, one of the nurses surrounding Sarah shot out to me that the baby was coming now. I saw Julie’s head crowning as I moved to a neutral corner of the room leaving no doubt in my mind.
The NICU staff had arrived and prepared to receive Julie once delivered. The doctor introduced himself and I recited the script the MRI doctor had me memorize on Friday. He assured me that the hospital had received all Julie’s records and knew all about her condition. They stood ready to stabilize Julie and then move her to ICU and possibly EKMO (where the blood is circulated through a machine which takes the place of the lungs). This presence of this machine determined the location of the hospital since we didn’t know the state of Julie’s lungs. EKMO might be the difference between life and death after birth.
I couldn’t believe the efficiency of the doctors and hospital to transmit Julie’s records over the weekend and have them ready by noon Monday when we had transferred to our new Ob-Gyn on Friday evening. Later the NICU doctor confessed he had the wrong records. Strangely enough, another girl of approximately the age as Julie also had the same symptoms and diagnosis. The doctors and hospital became confused several times in the future about Julie’s correct name until they realized their mistake. Months later, we all found it remarkable that God sent the “right records” in time when Julie’s records were delayed.
Next, Sarah’s new Ob-Gyn burst into the room and tapped out the on-call doctor. With grace of movement, the nurses gowned her as she assessed the situation. She called for a scalpel to allow more room for Julie’s head now swollen from the fluid buildup. Sarah pushed again and the doctor held Julie in her hands. She cut the umbilical cord quick as a wink and handed Julie over to the NICU staff. I had positioned myself to one side of the room where I could see Sarah’s face, the table Julie lay on and “ground zero.”
The delivery room remained quiet as the staff worked. The NICU team reported length and width while the doctor struggled to find Julie’s esophagus. As the MRI doctor warned, the esophagus opening was nearly invisible against the swollen tissue of Julie’s neck. I caught only glimpses of their work from across the room as they worked nearly shoulder to shoulder around the newborn girl awaiting her first breath. Julie never made a sound, but the NICU staff gave out a collective sigh of relief loud enough for me to understand when Julie had begun to breathe.
The wall of nurses surrounding Sarah gave way as they attended to their duties. They had held Sarah’s hands during the delivery process which lasted just about 10 minutes from the time Sarah came into the room. They completed an IV line and gave Sarah the first pain medication she received.
Sarah felt the first relief in months and lay quiet while her Ob-Gyn finished gowning herself and cleaning Sarah. Her Ob-Gyn had to sprint about a quarter mile across the hospital complex in order to arrive in time. Now she worked in slow motion while the drugs and IV worked their magic.
A few minutes later, the NICU doctor gave me a few moments to look at Julie before they rolled her little cart away. She was black and blue and remarkably big for a preemie. I could hardly make out any features in that brief moment with so many tubes and wires. They needed to move her quickly to better equipment in the NICU and come find me in the waiting room when they finished the transfer – about an hour.
I moved to Sarah and told her that Julie looked great and Sarah did a great job. I held her hand as the OB-Gyn removed the afterbirth tissue and pressed on Sarah from the inside to squeeze out as much blood and fluid as possible to prevent blood clots. From my position near “ground zero,” I saw and smelled everything up close and personal. Sarah squeezed my hands/fingers and cried out several times especially as the doctor pushed, pulled, and sutured the torn and cut tissue. This part was far more painful for Sarah than the actual birth. It was certainly more painful for me.
I must have looked pretty pathetic. The nurses offered me some OJ. At first I declined, but then I figured it might be the only thing I eat for several more hours, so I accepted. The medicine finally kicked in for Sarah and she began to fall asleep, so I left and began looking for a place where my cell phone would work. At first, I sent out a simple text to immediate family:
Julie Kristina born alive 12:04 pm 6 lbs 2 oz, 18 inches.
I didn’t feel comfortable sending out much more until Julie reached the one hour mark. I eventually found a better spot where I could talk. So, I called family members one by one to describe the birth and current situation. I keep checking the clock on the cell phone between calls and texts.
After about an hour and half I began to relax. I figured Julie must still be alive or they would have come to get me. As I surveyed her progress, my joy renewed that she survived birth. I called a couple of doctors to cancel our appointments for the week and then went down to the NICU waiting room.