Nate's Birth Story - A Tale of Gore, Intrigue, and Adventure

Nate's birth story wasn't as harrowing as some I've heard, but it was pretty darn exciting. Although there was a bit of unpleasantness, I have to say the outcome was worth it... judge for yourself...





Monday, March 13th started out as any other day, except of course this particular day I was 39 weeks pregnant and had been off work since my last doctor’s visit. I woke up with plans, things to do, at this point sitting was downright painful, and moving made me feel good. I had a leisurely morning, ate a Luna bar and drank some OJ, watched some television, even rummaged through some recipes in the latest Real Simple magazine for some ideas for dinner. After all, I was off all day and why not make myself useful? Besides, basic food supplies were severely lacking in our kitchen, and chances were that our families would be in town to “ohh and aww” over baby that very week and would have occasion to get hungry. I needed to do some hardcore shopping.

At 11:00ish, as I was making my way to Target, my first stop of the day, I get a call from Northwest Women’s Center. I have a feeling it is my doctor’s nurse telling me Wednesday’s induction was a ‘no- go’, and that I simply would never be having this baby. To my surprise, it was Dr. McGuirk himself. “The hospital is dead today, how do you feel about doing the induction this afternoon?” he says. “I know you aren’t crazy about the 13th, but having this baby is inevitable… you can’t put it off forever!” By now I have ducked into the Walmart parking lot, as I am in shock and not fit to drive. I tell him I would talk to Steve and call him back. “Take your time”, he says, “decide, call me back so I can let the hospital know either way, and come in to the hospital in a few hours if you want.”

Steve and I fumble around trying to think of a reason not to do it. After all, for Wednesday I was just a waitlist, and who knows if Friday would have been a sure thing. I turn around, not having completed a single errand, and promptly drive back home to get ready. Steve leaves the office. We are doing it today.

I call my Mom to tell her what is going on, shave my legs (the importance of this action is seen later in the “cutting-the-umbilical-cord-photo”), and tidy up the house. Steve makes it home, and quickly spot cleans cat vomit off the carpet, as I make him a sandwich. We finish packing the hospital bag, and at around 2 pm we are on our way to the hospital.

I am admitted, paperwork is signed, and monitors for me and baby are strapped onto my belly. The nurse tells me that Dr. McGuirk didn’t think I’d show up because I was a “planner”. He’s definitely got me pegged, but underestimated my desire to have this child as soon as possible (despite ominous associations with the 13th). After all, it felt like this kid had run out of growing room, and taken up residence on my tailbone. They ask if I have any dietary requests, and I ask if I’ll be able to drink Diet Coke. At the end of the day I’m a simple girl with simple needs.

A monitor shows my contractions and the baby’s heartbeat. A nurse checks my cervix and I am 3-4 cm, and the baby is at zero station. The monitor is showing I am having contractions at that very moment even before the pitocin was started. I just kind of shrug and say that all I feel is the wiggleworm squirming a bit. So I guess I was in labor and didn’t actually know it- go figure.

The prescription order for the pitocin comes in after 3 pm or so. The nurse turns the drip on slightly. I feel nothing at first, then after a while some mild cramping. This continues until Dr. McGuirk shows up towards the end of Oprah, around 4:45 to break my water. He asks me if I’m sure about doing this, because once he breaks my water “we are having a baby today”. That’s why we’re here right? Go for it! It feels like I’ve wet myself uncontrollably, and it just generally feels very, very weird.

In fact, everything inside is different now- I start to shake badly, and this actually continues on until delivery. The contractions start to kick in hardcore, ranging from mild cramping, to major cramping, to desperately feeling like my insides are trying to turn themselves out. My reaction to the latter brand of contraction was sheer panic. Who can breathe at a time like this, Mr. Lamaze? I am so rigged with needles and monitors at this point – pitocin, glucose, 2 monitors strapped to my belly, and an automated blood pressure cuff on my arm, that there is no easy rolling over to allow my “labor partner” to do any of the relaxation massage or the hip rotations that were discussed in our childbirth class.

About 45 minutes pass of this contraction nonsense, when the anesthesiologist comes by to see if I’m ready for the epidural. Despite having been asked the stupidest question ever, I politely reply, “YES”. The epidural relieves my discomfort completely and immediately. The procedure doesn’t hurt, and I wasn’t scared, but the needle insertion startled me because it didn’t feel like it went straight in, it was sort of shoved in to the right.

We watch the contractions on the monitor. We are calm now. A typical exchange that ensued was:

“Oh, there’s a big one.” - Steve
“Wow, can’t believe that doesn’t hurt.” – Me
”Yeah, cool.” – Steve

I feel nothing, except that my right leg is going very numb, and I get irritated anytime Steve touches it. I continue to shake and shiver uncontrollably. This, however, is nothing compared to the pain of contractions, so I am totally ok. The contractions slow down, and Dr. McGuirk comes in to see about it. He finds that the baby’s head is kind of suctioned up against my cervix. He gives his noggin a little push, and a bunch more amniotic fluid comes pouring out. The contractions kick back up, or so says the monitor.

We watched the 6 o’clock news, and after a while the nurse comes in to turn me on my side. Rotating from side to side will help the baby’s head move down farther into the pelvis. I have started to feel pressure, which I could swear was pain. Dr McGuirk checks in with us at around 7 pm and I am about 7-9 cm at this point, and getting pretty scared. He says he will check back in with us in a couple of hours. Once I am on my side for a just few minutes, the pressure becomes very intense. We call the nurse back in and tell her this, she says to call back when I feel rectal pressure. Literally about 5 minutes later, I did, and she and my doctor come back in. My doctor dons his “Baby Catchin’ Suit” (his words, not mine!) and tells me we are going to push.

The labor and delivery room up until this point has been serene and homey, but now the TV goes off, and a big spotlight is turned on over the business end of this operation. The reality of the situation really hits when I am instructed how to push. “Here? Now? Seriously?”, like I have completely forgotten what we are all there for. When they see I’m having a contraction, I’m to push into my bottom 3 times in a row for 10 seconds. I am so nervous it takes me a couple of times to get the breathing and pushing down. I don’t feel like I’m doing it right because my lower half is in epidural la la land.

The baby is clearly visible to everyone peering into my business. I’m told he doesn’t have a lot of hair but the hair he does have is the color of my own. (Garnier Number 90, “Macadamia Light Natural Blonde”, guess those nasty chemicals do pass through the placenta!) We push and push and push, and I still am convinced I’m doing it right at all.

Then, I become aware that we haven’t pushed in a while. Dr. McGuirk is looking at the monitor and not at me. He says he doesn’t like the way the baby is handling the contractions. We go through several cycles of not pushing, and he tells me that I’ve had a placental abruption. The baby’s placenta has detached from my uterus, and he isn’t getting the oxygen he needs anymore. I get an oxygen mask sometime during all of this.

Things turned more serious, and all of a sudden there are about 15 extra people in the room with us. Some of them are wearing scrubs and some of them look like they just came from doing their grocery shopping. All I could think about was how they were all viewing my intimates in the most casual manner possible. I suppose this is what everyone does when the hospital is dead, pop in to see a birth in progress just for fun. I hear my doctor telling someone to page the anesthesiologist and get the OR ready for the C-section. I am terrified now, partially because C-sections are scary, but mostly because after all we’d been through, here we are at the end, and the baby isn’t doing well. The nurses get Steve some scrubs to wear in the OR.

Dr. McGuirk tells me we’ve got to make these pushes count and that he’ll give me another chance to get him out. He says he’s got to do a small episiotomy to help him out quickly and I nod. We push once more, and all 15 people in the room are yelling encouragement to me. As his head crowns, some hippie nurse who thinks having babies is natural and beautiful is screaming at me to open my eyes and look at the baby’s head emerge from my hoo-haa. I have my eyes closed concentrating on doing the best birthin’ possible, and have absolutely no desire to see nature in action. Steve screams back at her that I don’t want to look because nature is gross and he and I both realize there are some things you can’t “un-see”. This is why I love him.

I get the kid’s head out in that last chance, and my doctor does all the rest. Steve cuts his cord and he is placed in my arms on my tummy all gooey, warm, and screaming. The whole thing has me strangely confused, like I still don’t know why we’re there. I look at the baby like I don’t know what has just happened, and he is sort of looking at me the same way. He is so incredibly small and he is squirmy and strong. The nurse takes him to the baby warmer after a few seconds and Steve videoed the rest. He got dried off, warmed up, and weighed, as I got cleaned and sewn up.

My doctor observes that his umbilical cord and placenta were “puny” and that if we’d waited many more days to have the baby we would definitely have had to do a C-section, and there could have been some more severe complications. Score one for elective inductions!