Stop and Smell the People

The Baby Diaries: Our Big Day!

The Baby Diaries: Our Big Day!

[You know the routine: Anna writes these hilarious Baby Diaries and I add my unfunny 2 cents in bold and brackets. Enjoy.]

The Baby Diaries: Our Big Day!

I’d been writing to Crowley for months now in his “Book of Letters” but this entry would be the best.

“Dear Crowley…” I scribble furiously, so excited I can barely draw the letters… “The hospital just called. It’s 5:51 a.m. We are on our way to have you! It looks like it’s your birthday. I get to meet you face-to-face today.”

Our bags were already packed and waiting at the door. As we drive to the hospital, I keep saying it over and over again… “I can’t believe we are going to have a baby today.” Mike takes my hand and holds on tightly. This is the day that will change our lives forever.

7:00 AM

Mike drops me off at the special mommy-to-be entrance and up to the ninth floor I went, silly smile on my face.

“Hi. My name is Anna. I am here to have my baby!”

The nurse took me right into my room. I was in my gown, hooked up to a Pitocin drip (to kick start contractions) and under the covers when Mike walked in with our bags. I barely turned my head, fixated on the sweet sound of the baby’s heartbeat beacon pounding out from the monitor.

“Hey Babe,” I say. “Um, in my bag, could you find?.. there is a container of Lysol wipes. Could you find them?”

Mike rummages through the bag, holds up the plastic can and asks, “Where do you want them?”

“I need you to open them up and clean the bathroom.” He looks stunned as he peers into a spotless bathroom. I add, “Make sure you do a really good job with the bathtub.”

He wipes floors, walls and every object while the contractions slowly get stronger. [I didn’t even debate it. It’s official. The beat down is complete.]

8:30 AM

Doctor M. makes his rounds. It’s our big day. I can’t stop smiling. The plan is to see how I progress on the Pitocin and check

back in at noon. Funny… the words “check back” seem so non-invasive considering what getting checked really means….

9:00 AM

I call my dad, “guess what?” I say it with so much excitement; it’s almost a song! [And by song she means annoying.] “What?” he asks. “I am at the hospital!!! It’s Crowley’s birthday!” Soon he joined Michael at my bedside entertaining me!

So far, so good. Contractions are manageable. Only bummer is… no solid food. I knock back as much bright red Jell-O as a Preggo can stand. Which is at least a dozen cups!

11:00 AM

It’s funny. We talked so much about the pregnancy with Trevor, my stepson. And at some point, rather late in the pregnancy, both he and Mike mention how Mike passed out when Trevor was born. [It’s true. I hit the floor like a rock. I can handle seeing my blood. Anyone else’s? Not so much.] Sure most people laugh when they hear that sort of story. Not me. I started coming up with a back up plan for a birth coach. I mean I couldn’t deliver the baby alone! The choice was easy, my cousin Tyler. Make no mistake… Tyler is a female! A funny, funny female who is the kind of person that you want in your corner when the chips are down, when you need support and the love of a strong friend. She’s that kind of person. (Though she’s a little sensitive about people calling her Taylor so be sure to refer to her as Taylor if you make a comment on this blog!)

So at 11:00 AM, Tyler calls. “How are your contractions?”

“I just slept through a bunch of them, but they are getting stronger.”

“What can I bring you?”

“I need some trashy magazines. The trashier the better.”

“Done! I am on my way.”

12:00 Noon

Tyler, Dad and Michael in the room. Things quickly went from all of us having a blast and making inappropriate jokes… to the three of them having a blast and I was across the room breathing through contractions. I need more bright red Jell-O. The more the better. I am so hungry! (I edited out the modifier for hungry but it was a very bad word.)

Dr. M. arrives to “check” me. I look at Dad. “Ummm. Dr. M. is about to check my cervix with his whole hand. You might want to wait in the hallway.”

“Anna!” Mike says in a way that conveys his disdain/amusement in my knack for lovingly torturing my sweet father.

I look up and it was like my dad beamed himself out of the room. He was gone in a flash, justice league style.

“So?” I ask. “Are we close?”

“You are about two centimeters.”

I fall into the depths of despair. Two centimeters? That’s it? After all morning! Two little ole centimeters!? We have 8 more to go! Underachievement is hard for a type-A to swallow on a good day… intolerable for a crazy Preggo arriving at the crescendo with no… well, no crescendo.

We come up with a strategy… more Pitocin and our good Doc will break the water after lunch, which should kick the contractions into high gear… awesome! Come on baby!

1:00 PM

“Here’s what’s going to happen…” Doctor M is back and explaining what comes next. “Dr. Affelfafffell..” STOP right there. I swear he just said the anesthesiologist’s is named Dr. Affelfafffell.

“What is his name?” I ask.

“Well they have a nick name for him because his name is hard to pronounce,” he explains. I start to giggle.

Mike says, “So, the bottom line is Dr. Affelfaffellaffelfaffellaffelfaffell…” he kind of chokes and chortles when he says it which makes both Preggo and Doctor start to laugh. “He’s going to give Anna an epiwhatever and then you’ll break her water?”

I am still laughing and with the kind of timing that usually comes scripted on a sitcom… a tall serious man strides into the room to my bedside, sticks out his hand and says what sounds like, “Hi! I’m Dr. Affelfaffell.”

Mike turns to him and says, “Soooo… Affelfaffell… is that German?”

Those of you who have been reading our Baby Diaries all along, know this Preggo had an uncontrollable laughing fit problem … and boom! I lose it. Belly laugh… ugly face laugh… stomach hurts laugh right in his face. Mike coolly flashed a stone face which only egged me on. Couldn’t breathe. Doctor M put his head down and walked out of the room at top speed. [My work here is done.]

Here’s a tip for those of you who are pregnant and considering an epidural. Don’t laugh at the man who is going to stick a needle in your back. I mean, I am not saying it took him a couple of tries because we were making fun of him… but bottom line, we were making fun of him and it took a couple of “sticks” (and I use that word loosely) before my epidural was in place.

The Dr. whose name sounds like Affellfaffell left. I had more bright red Jell-O and took a nap.

3:00 PM

The female known as Tyler and my husband, Mike, were making home videos of the day. Mike asks Tyler, “What are you reading?” She gleefully stares down the camera with her copy of People Magazine, “This is a singer named Rhianna and this is her boyfriend who beats her!” And that sort of sums up the theme of Crowley’s videos.

I laugh and then it hits me. I am going to puke. “Mike! Help!”

He grabs the trash can. “That’s dirty!” I yell and those were the last words to make it out of my mouth as I pushed that trash can away…. A fire hydrant opened up… And I hate to be graphic (not really) but it was projectile red Jell-O and didn’t hit the ground until the end of my bed! Tyler, Mike and my poor sweet dad stood there, stunned.

I know it’s weird but I smiled, amused at having grossed out all three of them in one quick instant! [I immediately texted this gem to her brother Tim in New York City.]

6:00 PM

Dad beams himself out of the room again. The Doctor checks me and we have progress! 6 centimeters!

9:00 PM

9 Centimeters.

9:30 – My pregnant friend Melody texts me from the WCNC newsroom where she is producing the 11pm news. I text back, “Don’t tell anyone but we’re about to push!!!!!”

There is nothing better than a loving family. At that moment, my cousin Keiran walks in to see how things are going.  I take my father aside before he heads for the waiting room. “You are a wonderful father and you are going to be an even better grandfather.”

Keiran would wait it out with my father, keeping a man company who at that moment just wanted his little girl to be okay.

Now it was just Mike, the nurse, the doctor, the female known as Tyler and me. Tyler had been with us every step of the way. There at the beach 9 months ago when, not knowing I was pregnant, Mike announced how bloated I looked in my bikini. She was a first call when we found out Crowley was a boy and our “dead beat doula” when we would test call her for the big day… only to get her voicemail.

I had the female known as Tyler on one side and my sweet husband on the other. I started to push. “Push! 1-2-3”

“Come on, Anna, you can do it,” Tyler cheered. Keep in mind, at this point, I’d been in labor for hours. And even though pain had been addressed… my body was still in labor. I was only able to focus on very specific things… like pushing, nothing else. So when Doctor M told Mike “Stop it!” in a serious tone… I just figured Mike was making funny and distracting faces at the doctor and that our awesome Doc was letting him know, now is not the time.

I wouldn’t find out for some time, that Crowley’s heart rate plummeted during that push. Mike saw the doctor’s eyes as he watched Crowley’s hear rate drop and my husband knew we had a problem on our hands. [As a journalist I know not to watch the action only. I watch the reaction. Especially the faces of the people in the know. Their faces will tell you how serious things are. I was staring down the doctor. This was serious.] Dr. M. wanted to make sure I didn’t panic. When I stopped pushing the baby’s heart rate returned to normal.

“Okay,” says the doctor, “That was a good start. Let’s give you a minute to rest and the baby a minute to rest and we’ll start again.”

Sounds like a plan. I was totally calm and had no idea that there was cause for concern. [I took the Doc’s lead and didn’t mention what I saw in his face.] You would have thought when they told me to stop pumping meds into my epidural line, I would have clued in, but I didn’t.

When the doctor returned 30 minutes later he had what seemed like 50 people with him. I didn’t realize it but they were all from the NICU (Neo-natal Intensive care Unit) . While I was resting, our doctor was assembling an entire team to standby in case Crowley needed them. Doc was amazing. Calm. Collected. I had no reason to panic. He was so steady and I was so tired, I had no idea what was going on and didn’t really care. My singular objective was to have this baby.

The doctor introduced everyone by first names, “This is Christine…” and he went around the room. Never said their titles or why they were there, which was a very, very smart move. That decision kept me calm and focused… not worried and panicky.

“Okay, they last time you pushed,” he explained matter of factly, “the baby’s heart rate was a little lower than I would have liked.

So we are going to push and I need you to get this baby out.”

And that was all he needed to say. Here’s the thing about my personality: When the moment is critical. When the stakes are high. When chaos and crisis are closing in, I am at my best: focused and ready to right the ship. [Every word of that is true.] That’s what helped me perform well during breaking news and it would help me now. Because we had such a fun and joking relationship with our doctor for nine months, when his tone turned serious, I knew I needed to deliver… and now.

“Push 1-2-3!” I could barely see Tyler. She was behind the doctor. But I could hear every word she said. The nurse was on my right side and Mike on my left.  He kept encouraging me and cheering me on.

“Okay rest,” said the nurse. I looked at the doctor.

“You don’t need to rest do you?” he said.

“No!” I kept pushing. I pushed for 10 minutes and then I saw him…. a head full of hair.

Last slow push, I delivered the rest of Crowley. I sobbed with love for this child and then only in that instant did I feel a deep sense of alarm. [My heart stopped. Crowley was deep blue. I held back tears and said a prayer.] I was about to ask, “Why isn’t he crying,” when suddenly Crowley let out scream you could have heard three blocks away. [Sounded like he was pissed. Turns out he was. In the womb it’s 98.6 degrees. The hospital room was 28 degrees colder.]

He was still blue, but he was crying. The NICU staff whisked Crowley across the room to make sure he was okay. Mike and Tyler saw what I couldn’t: The cord was wrapped twice around Crowley’s neck and once around his torso. They had watched the doctor carefully unwind the cord as I delivered him.

Crowley was absolutely fine. We were and are so grateful beyond words that he’s okay and that we had a great medical staff in

control… with more than a little help from heaven!

Tyler ran down the hallway to tell Dad his grandson was here! Mike called Crowley’s big brother and let him listen to that incredible cry.

Then he pulled out the video camera. I could see it. He was filming the nurses attending Crowley, filming the baby…. And I am in the background of every shot… in stirrups.

Welcome to your family, Crowley! Welcome! We are crazy… but we love you! [Sad but true, son. Get used to it.]