To My Daughter: 2.5 Hours that Changed My Life

The Story of Your Birthday:

Caution:  Graphic details included - read at your own risk.  :)

There I was asleep on my couch, enjoying a much needed afternoon nap on my birthday when everything changed. It was my 29th birthday; not really a big deal, except it was my last without children. But I hadn't been feeling well courtesy of a head and flailing arms in my right rib cage, so we skipped any festivities and I opted for a quiet day in front of the TV. As usual I fell asleep during the movie. I had just started to rouse towards the end of the movie (I can't remember which one it was) when I felt the strangest sensation. I was half a second from telling Derrick about it when I realized with a violent shock that my water was breaking!
Forgive the detail (this is mainly for my own memory), but in less than a second I was off the couch and completely drenched from the waist down with a steady stream still flowing. Derrick jerked up from his couch and stared at me somewhat blankly - battling desperately between confusion and frustration at the mess that would need to be cleaned up. The only words I could find for the first 30 seconds or so were, "Oh no... Oh no... Oh no..." Derrick echoed with, "What's going on? What's going on? What's going on?" Finally, I suggested (and by suggested I mean demanded) he grab some towels... a minute later he returned with three towels... two under my feet and one in my hands, feebly trying to dry my legs. When I realized they were rapidly being soaked through, I waddled my way to our guest bathroom.

It was in that bathroom that I first fully understood what was happening. I was only 37 week with a breech baby and my water had just broken. I didn't know what to do next, but I knew it had to happen fast. My "Oh no" now changed to, "This is not good..." I grabbed my phone and called Momma. "Momma, uh... my water just broke." "WHAT??!!?" I tried to sound calm as I told her what was happening, but I know I sounded hysterical. She told me she was packing her bag and would be on her way within minutes. As I unsuccessfully tried to dry/clean up and control the loss of water (haha!), I yelled for Derrick to call the hospital for directions on our next step. Of course, he didn't exactly have the phone number memorized (note to self in the event of pregnancy #2!), so he yelled back asking for the number. I grabbed my iPhone, fumbling to Google the number to Woodland Heights Hospital, when I realized he had been using his laptop when the chaos ensued - it would be much faster and easier for him to look up the number. As he dialed, I changed into pair-of-pants-#2 and made a dash from the guest bathroom to our bathroom. Before I could get there, pants #2 were completely soaked. By this time Derrick was off the phone with our hosptial and had been instructed to get to the nearest emergency room to us - he threw me pair-of-pants-#3 and grabbed shoes for both of us and we were out the door with only a fleeting thought about being extremely grateful we had packed our bags early and stashed them in the car along with the carseat.

It was rainy that afternoon. He mashed the emergency flashers button as we whipped left out of the driveway onto North Street. The nearest hospital was only about 10 minutes down the road - Derrick made it in about 5 with only two near-wrecks. During the drive, Derrick's parents called and said they were headed our way. I remember the sound of Mr. Steve's voice - I'm pretty sure he was crying. I tried to sound calm and assure him everything would be fine, but in my head I wasn't so sure. My mom also called to say she was getting in the car.  As we made our way passed the university, passed Scholtsky's, passed Burger King, passed Hobby Lobby... I kept one hand on the door for support and one hand around my belly, trying as best I could to hug my baby and let her know I was there and would do everything I could to make her OK.  I prayed the most heartfelt prayer I knew at that moment, over and over again:  "Oh God, I need You right now.  My baby needs You right now.  You are good... no matter what.  But please, please let this baby be ok.  Oh God, I need You..."

Derrick pulled into the drop-off zone of the emergency room and I jumped out, still leaking water but not having contractions. The signs on the doors were very confusing and although I was in the building, I was not in the ER. A nurse noticed the panic on my face and pointed me to the door for the ER. The lady behind the desk was very nice and did a good job keeping calm for my sake. There was a couple sitting in the waiting room and they overhead me explaining the situation to the receptionist, probably because by this point I was almost yelling, not because I was angry, but just having lost all control of the volume of my voice. As the nurse came to collect me in a wheelchair, the lady of the couple looked at me with a very reassuring smile and said they would be praying for me and the baby and that everything would be ok. I hoped she was right.

The nurse in charge of my wheelchair hit me with a flood of questions about my pregnancy, my healthy, the baby's development.  By the time I reached the labor and delivery wing, it had been roughly 30 minutes since my water broke and all I wanted was to hear my child's heartbeat. The next two hours are somewhat of a blur, with a few moments of extreme clarity. Derrick was on a constant rotation of phone calls from family and friends. Mrs. Cindy Land (our Pastor's wife) and two of their sons happened to be near the hospital and stopped by to pray with us. All the usual things were done:

• I was strapped into all the monitoring machines and I finally got to hear that most precious of sounds (her heartbeat), which showed that Katelyn and I were both fine, at least for the moment;
• they wheeled in a dinosaur of an ultrasound machine and did a quick ultrasound to confirm the baby's position (still breech);
• I repeatedly assured the ladies that my water had indeed broken (was I really sure it was my water breaking? YES! I lost gallons of fluid from my body!!!);
• exams were done (finally confirming that, yes, my water had in fact broken).

I distinctly remember the nurse poking her head in the room and saying, oh so casually, "Oh, we are definitely gonna have a baby today!" She seemed so relaxed when I felt anything but relaxed. Derrick and I just looked at each other. She came back a few minutes later and told us they had decided not to send me to my hospital, but were going to do the C-Section there at Nacogdoches Medical Center with the doctor on call. It would take a few minutes to call the surgery team in since it was a Sunday, we were told; in the meantime, they would be prepping me for the procedure. An IV was started - new questions were asked - I had to drink the nastiest tasting liquid I've ever had in my life - and finally, they came to take me to the OR.

As scared as I had been up that point, it was only going to get worse. Because of some (in my opinion silly) hospital policy, Derrick could not join me in the OR until my spinal block was started, so I was taken to the OR without him. He was left in the room to finish up last minute phone calls and change into his blue birth get-up. As they wheeled me down the hall to the OR, my nurse warned me how cold the room was... she was not lying. I immediately started shaking as the 59 degree air hit my body (I was only in one of those thin, paper gowns). Praise God for the warm hospital blankets! It took a few minutes for the nurses and doctors to get their equipment situated before I was told it was time for the spinal block. Since the only other surgery I'd had was under general anesthesia, I didn't realize how tiny those surgery tables are. I'm pretty sure my body was hanging over the edges when I was lying down. When it was time for the spinal block, they had me sit up and hang my legs over the edge of the table. My nurse, Misty, took her place standing directly in front of me. She told me to lean toward her, curving my back, with my head on her shoulder. "Small pinch, little burning," said my anesthesiologist as he administered the lidocaine to numb the area on my back. He was right; it stung, but was not terribly painful. After a few seconds, he told me he was ready to do the block.

I lost track of how many times we replayed that little scene as he tried to get the block started, unsuccessfully, and had to pick a new insertion point.  Everytime he would numb the area, which meant another "small pinch, little burning," and then would use the big-momma needle, which didn't exactly hurt, but felt like lots of pressure in my spine.  A few times he got a little crazy with the big-momma needle and I could feel it hit the bone; that was not such a pleasant experience.  The longer it took, the more nervous and scared I got.  I just wanted Derrick to be there with me, but he was locked out, waiting in the hallway.  Misty noticed how nervous I was getting and started talking to me.  Finally, after 20 minutes, my block was finally started and they had me lie down on the table.  It was the strangest sensation.  The block was in my spine, but the numbing started from my toes and spread up to my chest; first my toes were gone, then my ankles, then my calves, then my knees, all the way to my hips where it seemed to stall.  No problem, though; the anesthesiologist just tilted the operating table so my head was a little lower than my feet and, sure enough, that pushed the numbness right on up to the my chest in no time.

Finally they let Derrick into the room - everything felt better once he was with me.  The doctor and all the assisting nurses came in, too, and there was alot of commotion as they prepared to start the surgery.  They checked again to make sure I was numb and then Dr. McMorries simply said, "OK, let's have a baby."  Derrick and I chatted about phone calls I had missed while the team worked.  Derrick wasn't supposed to peek over the blue curtain at my neck, but he did.  Within just a few minutes we heard Dr. McMorries say he could see your feet - you were definitely breech!  He told us as he twisted your legs around and then said you were mooning him, but that you were definitely a girl.  And finally, he had you all the way out, the umbilical cord was cut, and you were passed off to your nurse - you were born at 6:20pm.  As nerve-racking as that afternoon had been, nothing compared to the 10 seconds between when we knew you were born and your first cry.  We were nervous about how early you were - would your lungs work?  would be able to breathe on your own?  After what seemed like an eternity, we heard the most beautiful sound I've ever heard in my life - your first breath, your first cry broke through the hollowness of that OR and literally took our breath away.  Immediately we were crying as they suctioned your throat and nose, wiped you off, wrapped you in a blanket and handed you to your Daddy.  I've never seen him smile bigger.  It was the most proud moment of our lives.  I wanted so badly to hold you right then, but because of the anesthesia, I couldn't really use my arms.  So Daddy laid you across my chest and I kissed your chubby little cheek and told you how much I loved you.

The nurses had to take you back to finish cleaning you up.  The team was still working to finish my surgery.  Dr. McMorries joked - "Now that we've got the baby, let's put you back together."  I didn't care what he did at that point, I couldn't take my eyes off you.  I stared as the nurses worked with you, so tiny and so red.  After a few minutes, they were ready to take you to the nursery.  Daddy left to go with you while Dr. McMorries finished taking care of me.  I would have to spend an hour in the recovery room before I could see you or Daddy again.  Once the surgery was all done, they had to move me from the operating table to a portable bed - this proved difficult considering I was still totally numb.  They had me cross my arms over my chest as they slowly rolled me onto my side and slide a board behind my back.  This was the scariest moment because I was hanging literally on the edge of the table, about 4 feet off the ground (those tables are high) with only a 5'1" nurse keeping me from falling.  Once the board was in place, they rolled me back and could then lift me onto the new bed.  I felt much more relaxed as we headed to recovery, knowing you were safe and finally with us.  I started thinking of all the things I'd left undone when we rushed to the hospital and, without really thinking about it, I said outloud but to no one in particular, "Oh no, I forgot to harvest my raspberries!"  (Daddy and I had been playing a computer game right before you were born about farming.  I had planted raspberries that afternoon and they needed to be harvested within 4 hours or they'd go bad and I wouldn't get any points for them.)  To my surprise, my nurse played the game, too, and understood exactly what I was talking about!  Once in recovery, I was so excited but had no one to talk to, so I kept talking to the nurse, telling her about you and Daddy, and asking ridiculous, random questions.  I'm sure she was glad when it was time to send me to my room!

As my nurse pushed my bed down the hall, we found Daddy and Granny outside the nursery, standing in front of the big glass windows, watching you have your first bath.  Daddy said Mrs. Cindy had been back up to the hospital to see you and had taken some pictures.  Granny had gotten there just after you were born and had been watching with Daddy at the nursery.  I got to stay and watch for a few minutes before it was time to go to my room.

Because my legs were still numb from the surgery, it took several nurses to get me moved to my bed.  They had the process down, but I still wasn't excited about being carried around like that.  There was no board this time, just a few tiny nurses moving me, one body part at a time.  I was excited to see Mrs. Linda Marshall was going to be my nurse for the night.  She was so sweet and helpful!  Daddy and Granny had come to the room with me and left you with the nursery to finish your bath.  It took probably another hour for them to finish up everything they do with newborns, and then they finally brought you to see me in the room.  Daddy and Granny were there, but Mimi & Poppy hadn't made it just yet.  The rolled you into the room in your little cart and brought you right over to me.  I finally got to hold you - you were so tiny, and so beautiful, sound asleep after your very exciting day.  Everyone took turns holding you - Mimi & Poppy, too, when they got there a little while later.  Eventually it was time for you to eat and so the grandparents headed to bed for the night and Daddy and I got to have some time with you.

As we laid down to sleep (haha) that night, Daddy on the tiny, pull-out bed with squeeky springs, me in my hospital bed, and you in your cart between us, I prayed again:  "Oh God, I need You right now.  My baby needs You right now.  You are good... no matter what.  But please, please let this baby be ok."  That prayer has been prayed more times than I can count this last year - it's changed a little.  You're no longer my baby; now you're my little girl.  But the heart of it is the same.  I want to be the best mother to you I can be!