Trusting
myself. With Avery’s sudden and exciting arrival, it has come to my attention
that I do not trust myself as much as I should. For example, should I eat these
M&M’s for breakfast? How long is too long to go without washing my hair? Am
I in labor?
When
a person delivers a baby in a car, one must question if they trust their own
judgment. My other three children were born while I was blessedly medicated and
with a fully capable medical staff at my service, thank you, and I am not
ashamed to admit I fully and completely prefer it this way.
But
on April 12, 2012, I did not trust myself. From about 3:30 in the afternoon on
I was feeling contractions (oh yes, that’s how long I should have realized I
was actually in labor). Not only that, I was tracking them on my phone and if
you could see my phone (which is no longer in service, may it rest in child
labor peace), you would see that approximately every 5, give or a take a minute;
I was indeed having a contraction. I even recruited my friend, bless her heart,
to go on a walk with me at 4:00 pm around the neighborhood for a mile or so to
encourage these contractions and hopefully further labor. What? But see, I
wasn’t actually convinced I was in labor. Even when I had to stop walking every
5 minutes to have a contraction. Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Now to defend myself a tiny
bit here, I had seen my OB Dr. McIntyre (who is about the sweetest doctor on
the face of this planet) the very day before and he had checked my cervix and
it definitely had not opened for business. The windows and doors were
completely boarded up—please come back another day.
Meanwhile,
Nolan arrived home from work and I expressed that I “could” be in labor, but I
wasn’t sure even though I was still tracking these “contractions” approximately
5 minutes apart and I had to stop and have a contraction!!! Exclamation Point!
However, we both sort of brushed it off. Then I followed this with, “You know what,
Kristi? This is the perfect time to clean your carpets! Just right after I
finish having this contraction that makes me stop and hold my stomach and tap
my toes…” SO I proceeded to whip out my Hoover Carpet Cleaner and clean my
carpets…I wish I was kidding. At this point it’s about 8:00 pm or so and there
I was going over and over my living room carpet while stopping every so often
to have another contraction.
As
the night progressed, and so did the strength of my contractions, I found this
the opportune time bathe. And not go to the hospital apparently. There I am
taking a bath and having relatively painful, consistent contractions but not
trusting that this was “real” labor because the contractions were not perfectly
spaced apart or long enough. But as I lay there, I think deep down I knew that this was labor. That I would
be having this baby sometime in the night. Did I realize in my car at this
point? You better believe I didn’t. Because I like my labor served up with a
nice side of meds.
Still
I am having more painful contractions. And it’s about 11:00 pm. So what do I
do? I decide to take ANOTHER bath. I have no defense for myself. And then I am crying in pain with each
contraction. These puppies are that painful.
I have never done this before either: Cried through a contraction.
Because I have always had epidurals and mama never got beyond dilating to a
three without one. I called Nolan into the bathroom and he called his mom to
stay with our kids and I FINALLY decided it was time to go the hospital. At
11:30 pm.
It
takes Nolan’s mom Wendy about 2 seconds to get to our house, thank the heavens,
and all I remember at this point is I cannot walk from my bedroom to the
kitchen (10 feet maybe?) without getting on my hands and knees and crying in
pain because my contractions hurt this bad. And then again from the kitchen to
the front door. Hands and knees contraction.
I
don’t pack. I try not to move. Or breathe. Or have contractions. It works
winningly. I am dressed in pajamas. I climb in the passenger seat (what?!
Because that is better than the back where I could have laid down of course)
with aid from my husband the fear starts to really set in. I know I have at
least 20 minutes to get from my house to the hospital my doctor delivers at and
I KNOW it will be the longest 20 minutes of my life I remember looking at Nolan
and telling him, “We waited too long.” Boy, howdy! If that ain’t the dadgum
truth.
Let
us get into the nitty gritty at this point. Have I mentioned I like Epidurals?
Just checking. Please read with Child-labor-truth-telling caution:
My
contractions are coming so fast at this point that my body and stomach don’t
even relax in between contractions. My body stays completely tense. There is no
break or relief from pain. It is constant. And there is fear. A whole heaping
car full of it. Shared between me and my husband. And no relief from that either.
And I know I have finally arrived in Hades and it turns out to be the passenger
seat of my Honda Pilot. Welcome.
Except
I am wrong again. Five more minutes down the freeway, I am crying and praying
and having contractions and yelling at my husband to Please PLEASE call Dr. McIntyre and he is
telling me he can’t hear Dr. McIntyre on the phone because of my wailing and
then I said I will give you something to wail about and I sooooooo very
much needed him to accomplish this conversation with my doctor. And then it
gets worse. I feel the urge to push. And the fear grows and becomes the third
passenger in our car. And it takes control. And I really let Nolan know that I
am pushing and this baby really wants to come out of my body. Right now. And
bless his heart, every contraction as I am crying like the big baby I am, he
keeps rubbing my leg and telling me calmly, “its ok. We’re almost there. We
will make it.” And even though I am scared he is lying to me, he is actually
comforting me because I really, really want to believe him.
I
think having contractions and being in labor in the car with your husband is similar
to a Horror film. Like Freddy Kruger meets Jason. Is this a real movie? I don’t
even know. But I can imagine that it would sound a lot like what was coming out
of my mouth. Screaming. Praying. Crying. Screaming bloody murder. Praying…you
get the idea. Not to be too dramatic, or anything…But I kept praying out loud,
“Please don’t let me have this baby in the car. Please…”
About
a minute before we arrive at the hospital (sorry to get graphic) I can tell
during my last contraction that something has been birthed. I can tell it is
not my baby’s head, but it is something from inside me that was partially
exited and it is not supposed to be out of my body…not yet anyway. And again
Fear wraps its arms around me and gives me a hug.
Finally
we arrive at the hospital! Hallelujah! Praises be! Doctors! Nurses! Drugs! All
good and glorious things. Nolan runs into the hospital and I have another
contraction. Alone. With both car doors open. And me screaming bloody Freddy Kruger
murder. Later, a NICU mom we met told us that she had actually been passing our
car that night and said “I could hear a girl in the car screaming “Help Me!
Help Me!’”I think may have frightened
her. I have no recollection of this. Nolan came back out with the security
guard and a wheelchair. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been crying because I
literally had something already coming out of me and sitting in a wheelchair
was not an option. In fact, leaving my vehicle didn’t feel like a viable option.
More contractions. I am dying, I think to myself. And I was so tense and
bracing myself for each contraction I knew they would have to pry me from the
car with the Jaws of Life at this point. To my infinite sadness.
Both
Nolan and the security guard ran back into the hospital to get more help and
again I have another contraction. Alone. Two women run up to my side of the car
and I am having ANOTHER contraction from Hades and they are telling me they
have to check me and I kept telling them, “I want to die,” and I meant it! And
the nurse looked at me and said, “I know.” And I knew that she DID know. And
then she looked at the other nurse and said, “She’s complete.” And that scared
me because I knew what it meant, so I looked at Nolan in the driver’s side
doorway and he was a deer in the headlights, his face white. I said the next
logical thing that came to my brain, “Does this mean I have to have my baby
without drugs?” She looked at me sympathetically and said, “Yes. You do.”
I
think this is the point where I mentally put my big girl pants on and decided
we were doing this. Here. And now. I knew I really wasn’t leaving this car. And
I was having this baby. The nurses laid down some blankets (I was actually told
this later—I never noticed) cut off my pants and told me to push. So I did. I
gave one giant push and my baby was out a second later. They laid my baby
directly on top of my belly and I watched them cut the umbilical cord and then
the baby was gone. I was able to see my child for maybe 20 seconds before they
handed my baby to a NICU nurse and my baby was gone. It happened so fast I barely
caught a glimpse. I later found out there were about 16 people standing there
(You are welcome!) helping and directing and watching (yay!) during this,
including a transporter nurse (who actually delivered Avery and I am told is a
life flight nurse), labor and delivery nurses, Nurse practitioners, NICU nurses,
security guards, orderlies, a NICU mom, and who knows who else. Holy Ravioli.
Laying
there in the passenger seat of my car a minute after delivery, I felt a
tremendous amount of relief. We had made it to the hospital. My baby was safe
inside a hospital where she could get medical attention. I was being helped by
medically trained professionals. The pain had stopped. My baby was safe.
Everything would be ok now.
But
then the worry kicked in immediately. I wanted to see my baby. I blurted out,
“What was the baby? Boy or girl?” And the nurse looked at me and said, “Didn’t
you already know?” “No.” They looked blankly at one another and I heard someone
say, “We didn’t see.”
The
worry grew a little bit more. The orderlies removed from the Pilot and placed me
on a gurney. Thankfully, someone covered my shaking legs up so I had some
modesty as I rolled through the hospital doors. I thanked the nurse who
delivered my baby close to 100 times. I could feel the adrenaline pumping still.
The nurse told me I could see my baby as soon as they cleaned me up. The nurse
had been downstairs when I had delivered my baby and said this was her first
car delivery! I told her it was mine too.
Nolan
had yet to make an appearance but I figured he was checking on our baby. I
still had no idea if it was a boy or a girl. I was beyond excited (especially
with all that adrenaline pumping from delivery) to find out what it was. It was
a long 5 more minutes, I assure you.
Then
a woman with red hair and glasses walked in. She had a smile on her face. She
introduced herself as the Nurse Practitioner and said, “You had a girl!” And I
was so excited! I had been hoping for a girl these past 9 months. Actually,
that’s not true. I had hoped for another girl for the past 9 years. Since
Brinley was born. I wanted Brinley to have a sister, like I had sisters. Now
don’t get me wrong, I love boys. I Love MY boys even more. They are hilarious
and naughty and funny and cute. But let’s just say I love girls too and I was
hoping for one.
I
started crying. I was so happy. I didn’t really think I would get another girl
and I was so grateful Heavenly Father had blessed me with one. I kept thinking,
“Really? It really, truly is a girl?” I was already putting her hair in piggies
and dressing her up in tutus in my head when the Nurse Practitioner interrupted
these thoughts with, “Your daughter is showing features of down syndrome.”
And
I believe that time stopped.
The
Nurse Practitioner asked, “Did you have any tests done to find out if your baby
had Down syndrome?
I
shook my head no. I may have said it out loud too. I’m not sure. My next
thought was, “I’m 31 years old.”
Then
she said, “Well, I haven’t said anything to Dad yet. He had to stop and sit
down twice on his way up to see you because he almost passed out so I didn’t
think he was ready to hear it. We can talk more about it later.”
And
then she left.
And
I was alone. Me and my labor and delivery Nurse.
She
looked at me and said, “She might not have it. They don’t really know until
they test for it.”
I’m
not sure if I responded to that.
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