This is the hectic story of August 2008. My mom called me and asked me to go to Harbor View to be with her dad, Ken, because she didn’t want him to be by himself after his stroke and helicopter lift from Sequim. When my mom and Lilly (Grandpa's wife) arrived at the hospital, I grabbed my mom's hand and held it on my stomach, when I was having a contraction. I thought they Braxton-Hicks. My mom almost never tells people what to do, but she said, “You need to go see your doctor!”
Within 2 hours of leaving Harbor View and my Grandpa's side, I was admitted to Northwest Hospital myself, in pre-term labor.
For the next month, doctors couldn’t get the contractions under control. They were certainly trying! We tried 5 different medications. After 4 weeks of trying combinations of the drugs, we thought we had gotten it solved. During the four weeks, we stayed overnight at the hospital 14 nights and had to check in 6 different times. Driving to the hospital and checking in is a scary process, partly for safety concerns, but also because we didn't know if we were going to be parents early or on time. The baby's survival chances were terrific (only slightly less than a normal term baby). But the unknown is frightening. In hindsight, the funniest moment of the whole month was when we were speaking to one of the more serious, somber doctors and I shouted, "But we haven't even taken our class yet!" The feeling of unpreparedness was absolutely overwhelming.
Twice we had to go back to the hospital on the same night as we had just gotten sent home because the contractions were stronger than the medication. One medication made my blood pressure too low and another medication made the amniotic fluid too low. Both prolonged my hospital stays. One of the medications was horrible: it made me feel hopeless, hot, dizzy, worn out (but not sleepy), and like I had the flu. It really worked to knock out the contractions but on it, the hospital monitors your vitals every 2 hours; your blood every 6 hours; and your reflexes every 2 or 4 hours. In addition to flu-like symptoms, they monitor your intake of fluids and your urine output. I’d have to say August was the worst month of my life and Magnesium Sulfate is the worst experience I've ever had.
During the hospital stays, my mom and I realized that I had been in labor since mid-July. We traced it back to a lunch date from which I went home early. This means that when Gavin misbehaves, I get to say "I was in labor for 6 weeks with you!" I even confirmed it with my doctors. Look out, kid. One wrong step...
During one of the hospital stays, on August 9th, the doctors at Northwest Hospital got very concerned about two things. The first was that their special care nursery could only care for infants that were early by 8 weeks. They couldn’t take care of preemies that were younger than 32 weeks along. At this time, our baby was either 30 or 31 (unknown because the doctors all disagreed on my actual due date). The other concern was that my cervix was dilating. They tested us for the “I’m on my way” hormone babies release, and we tested positive for that. So Dan drove behind my ambulance, as we were taken to Swedish Hospital in Seattle. We thought we were going to have a baby that night or the next night!
My body seemed peaceful for the first time in about a week, the afternoon that miraculously, my contractions stopped and my Grandpa passed away. I could see his hospital from my hospital room, and a gorgeous sunset lit Harbor View up in a crystal clear skyline. I was thanking the universe and the baby and my body for calming down, finally, and at 1 cm dilated at the 30 week mark, I felt my first bout of hope since the initial check-in. I was rubbing my belly, giving the sleeping baby a hug, as my mom called to tell me that my Grandpa had passed away. It happened earlier that afternoon, right when the contractions stopped.
I think they would have enjoyed one another greatly. My Grandpa was kind, gentle, fair, compassionate, and honest. He was one of the nicest men I have ever known. I know he would have loved to hold our baby in his arms like he has held his other great grandchildren. But I’m so glad my baby stayed in to finish growing. Grandpa passed away on August 10th when he was 84 years old. He had a wonderful life; two amazing wives, 5 incredible children, 10 awesome grandchildren, and 12 beautiful great grand children. And this one on the way! What a rich, full life he had. I am proud to be his granddaughter.
On August 11th, Dan and I celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary. We had thai food for dinner and hospital cake for dessert.
Four weeks after going to the first doctor’s appointment and first hospital check-in, Dan helped me clean up the living room to host book club. As soon as the girls arrived, we started talking about the book and my water broke! After all the baby and I had been through (all the medications, hospitalizations, fear, and worry) it was a little bit funny that my water just broke.
The water broke at 7:30. The doctor was telling us the C-section plan at 8:30. They rolled me in for the C-section at 9:30, and I was back in the room at 10:30. No one moves you right through delivery like Dr. Frankwick and Northwest Hospital!
Dr. Matin and Dr. Frankwick did the C-section together. At the beginning of the surgery, I was terrified and couldn't control the shaking. The thought of cutting my belly open to get him out, the stitches to close it up, and the possibility that he might not be 100% safe were all terrifying to me. Through my head ran vivid, bright bloody red pictures of what a C-section looks like, complete with huge butcher knives and football-like stitches. And of course, in my head there was blood all over everything. Dan, the doctors, and my hero, the man who made my legs numb (and then talked my ear off through the surgery) all helped me relax. In fact, I didn’t even know that the surgery had started until I heard Dr. Frankwick say, “suction” I said, “What? We started?!”
By the end of the C-section, I was chatting like old friends with the anesthesiologist and surgeon. The anesthesiologist was saying he has never had an epidural and one day he'd like to try it out to see what it's like. I told him he wasn't missing much. And the surgeon is a quilter so I told her all about my new longarm quilting machine. I could not stop loving those two. I was freaking out and asked everyone "What do I do about the urge to cross my legs?" and the anesthesiologist said "Go ahead!" and then laughed himself silly. For such a scary operation, I had a funny and fun team slicing me open to pull my kid out. What a weird night.
I felt some pressure, heard a little pop, and I could hear a tiny, squeaky cry from the baby. It was a calm cry, more like babbling than crying. It was so small, in fact, that it sounded like it was in another room. I remember asking "Is that
my baby?" Dan walked over to meet him and take his picture. Then Dan brought him to me. He was just perfect. He wasn’t too fussy; he had a great color; he layed peacefully in Dad’s arms; and I fell in love with him instantly. The doctors were so pleased that he could breathe on his own. We all really didn't know what to expect.
Looking at your baby for the first time is something I will never ever forget. Though I had been telling Dan this is the only baby we're going to have for over a month, I looked at this baby and decided on at least one more before they even stitched me back up. I have such awe that I could love someone so much after just meeting them. I have never loved someone more.
