I reach over and turn off the TV and look at Nicole. “Are you okay? Do you feel okay?” I ask.
“I feel fine. What happened?” She answers. Honestly, I’m not sure. Something about the baby’s heart rate being low. Something about turning off the petosin. Something about needing oxygen and calling the doctor. It really was a blur. The nurse walks back in and checks the monitors. It appears that the heart rate has stabilized and her level of concern, while still high, has backed down from panic-mode.
With the doctor imminently inbound, we don’t feel like entertaining ourselves. So we sit there in the silence and wait. My heart is still racing from the adrenaline punch from 20 minutes ago. No chance I’m going to relax. Nicole looks annoyed with the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Half an hour later at around 6:30 in the evening, the doctor walks in.
We both love Nicole’s OBGYN. As a show of solidarity with Nicole, I attended close to 3/4 of the appointments with her and got to know her well. Unfortunately, she is also on vacation until the following day. So, when the doctor walked in, it was the first time either of us had seen her. “Hello,” she says in a calm tone of voice. “I hear someone is ready to have a baby.”
“Yes, hi,” I say still shaken by the last half an hour. “We are just wondering what happened? It got really crazy in here for a few minutes.”
“Oh yes. Well, I think the nurse was just a little excited. A lot of times as the baby starts moving through the birth canal, the heart rate will drop. It’s all pretty normal. There’s nothing to worry about,” the doctor informs us both. Still tense, I feel Nicole relax and it relaxes me. Now, the excitement and nerves start to build as a culmination of the last 8 months of waiting is finally upon us. I’d seen like 3 movies in my life of people going through labor. I was definitely prepared for what to expect next.
The doctor placed Nicole into the “birthing” position and started to apply iodine when we both saw a large splash. I thought at first her bottle of iodine exploded. “Yeah, I would say her water was JUST about to break,” she laughs. “Okay Chris, we are just about ready to start pushing.”
I look over at Nicole who is still just laying there, mostly calm. I think to myself, everyone is a little too calm for it to be time. Where is the shouting? Why is Nicole not screaming? Why is it so quiet in here? The doctor continues talking and breaks my daydream. “What you need to do is stand at her side there and when she is pushing, I need you to put on hand behind her knee and one hand behind her back and squeeze. You ready?” OH SHIT, this is happening!! “Alright, the nurse is going to let us know when you’re having a contraction and then we’ll push for 3 sets of 10 seconds with deep breaths in between. Chris, you’ll count it out. Oh, and would you like to introduce everyone to the baby when its finally born or do you want me to?” I answer that I would. And then, as if it were planned, a contraction starts. I count and squeeze and Nicole pushes.
“Okay, that wasn’t bad for the first time. Although, I really don’t feel like you’re pushing that hard,” the doctor says to Nicole.
Nicole looks at me then looks at the doctor. “I’m afraid I’m going to poop.”
The doctor bursts out laughing. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. When you do, we cleaned it right up and you’ll never even know it happened.” Her mixture of verb tenses confuses me. Was it intentional? Did she already do it and was saying it so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed that it happened or self-conscious that she might, all in the same sentence? Mental ninja, this one. She continues, “They are the same muscles. You have to push like you have a really big poop.”
Nicole smiles, “Oh, I can do THAT.”
And then we wait. And we wait. And we wait. Ten minutes has gone by and not a single contraction. Originally, the petosin was administered to stabilize the contractions. Even 9 hours after she’d arrived, while the intensity had increased, the interval had not. Over the course of the afternoon, the nurse had slowly increased the dosage and the interval had stabilized at 3-4 minutes apart. When the baby’s heart rate dropped, she stopped the IV drip. Apparently, this had also slowed the interval.
“I thought she was on petosin?” the doctor asked toward the nurse. She explained what had happened. “Okay, why don’t you start it back up and give her (a medically appropriate amount of petosin. Don’t ask me, I’m not a doctor).” The nurse goes back to try and enter the new prescription into the computer and fumbles miserably while the doctor brings her attention back to Nicole. Pleasantries are exchanged and we talk about how Nicole was able to work out until almost 8.5 months and how she normally rides the MS150, the 150 mile bike ride for Multiple Sclerosis. “Oh wow. I have too,” the doctor exclaims, clearly impressed. “Would it make you feel empowered to bring out a mirror?”
Nicole’s eyes get huge. “Uhhhhh, no. Not for me, thanks,” she says to the doctor, who seems to deflate a little. She then turns her attention to the nurse who is clearly struggling trying to get the machine to work.
“Why don’t you go get some help already?” She asks, clearly frustrated with the halting of progress. Finally, after 15 minutes, the beeping has stopped, the nurse refocused, although I’m positive she missed at least 2 contractions trying to use the computer, and Nicole starts pushing. And then shift change. Another nurse and her intern come into the room in what definitely now feels like a gathering.
Another contraction. After it’s complete, the doctor turns and says something to the nurse in a hushed tone. The air in the room suddenly disappears. The doctor turns to address Nicole. “Alright, so here’s what’s going on. The baby’s heart rate is dropping again when you are pushing. It has currently recovered but if it keeps doing it and stays low for too long, I am obligated to tell you what we will do next. At this point, we would use suction, attach the cup to the top of her head and pull it out. It is likely that entire head will turn black from bruising.” My heart sinks into my stomach. “We get 3 attempts. If after the 3rd attempts the suction doesn’t work, we will have to do an emergency C-section. I don’t think it’ll come to that, but we must be prepared. If the head gets far enough through the canal, the next step will be forceps. If it gets far enough down that we don’t need forceps, we may need to do an episiotomy. Okay, let’s get back to work.”
After the doctor finishes her explanation, the new nurse introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Sarah. This is Chloe. She’s shadowing me, if that’s alright with you.”
Nicole, never to be dejected, quips, “everyone else has seen down there, what’s one more?” The nurse bursts out laughing.
“Oh, I like you!” She says as she approaches Nicole. “Also, I have a terrible poker face. You’ll know if something is wrong and I don’t sugar coat things. From what I can tell, you’re doing great.”
The doctor, observing shift change, looks at her watch, “Oh shoot, have you ordered dinner yet?” I’m watching the outgoing nurse give her brief to the oncoming team and also watching the monitor for the next contraction. My heart is still racing from the “oh, your baby isn’t doing well and your wife may be cut open in multiple places” discussion. Her question catches me off guard. Uh, why is this important. I reply that we hadn’t. “Okay, the kitchen stops taking orders in 2 minutes. Why don’t you order real quick. You’ll thank me when it’s over and we’ll probably be done before it gets here.” There is a brief pause as I stumble around the room to find the menu. I’m both disoriented in the weird task I’ve been assigned and also that there will be a baby here before they can make a quesadilla. “Forget it! Just pick up and dial! I’ll tell you what to order,” the doctor commands. Can someone tell me what planet I’m on right now?
Dinner order placed, shift change complete, we get back to business. Nicole pushes for 3, 10 counts. Sarah looks at Nicole. “Holy cow. That was amazing! I’ve never seen anyone push like that. I’m serious, can you teach a class on pushing?”
Nicole looks at the nurse, “I’m really good at taking big poops. That’s all she said I had to do.” The whole room breaks out in laughter.
The contractions are really starting to pick up pace. Another round of pushing. I look at Nicole who is drenched in sweat and tell her she’s doing a great job. She is focused on catching her breath. Unlike the last few times, the doctor says nothing.
I look over to see her staring at the monitor. I do the same and see the heart rate very low and not recovering. And not recovering. Still, not recovering. She looks at the off-going nurse who hasn’t left. “Prepare the suction.” Either my heart stops or starts beating so fast I can’t feel it. I’m staring at the monitor willing her heart to start beating faster. It hovers around 60 beats per minute and barely changes for what seems like minutes. Oh please beat faster! BEAT FASTER! PLEASE!
And then, finally, the heart rate starts increasing. 60......75.....95....110. A wave of relief rushes over me and I gasp for air, tears in my eyes.
The gasp draws Nicole’s attention. She looks at me, pauses, then slaps me across the face, hard. “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!” Later I would find out that she didn’t know why I was crying. The nurse and doctor both laugh. “Oh my god, I love you,” Sarah says almost to the point of tears. Quite the comedian, that one.
Another contraction, another push. This time, the doctor has good news. “Okay, we are past the point of using suction. I think we are even past the point of forceps. This is going to work out just great.”
Two more contractions, two more pushes. Nicole is drenched in sweat. My heart is racing in anticipation. “8...9...10...done!” I announce, “great job Nicole. You’re doing grea....” The doctor cuts me off.
“Okay, heart rate isn’t recovering. I’m doing an episiotomy,” the nurse hands her the scalpel. “We aren’t waiting for a contraction. You’re just going to push until its out. You can do it. Go. Now!”
Push for 10. Breath. Push for 10. Breath. Push. Breath.
“Okay, I can see the crown! PUSH!” Push. Breath. Push. Breath. “The head is out!” I look down and see the closed eyes of this strange creature sticking out from between her legs. My stomach turns over. That’s as far south as I care to look. Push. Breath. One last big push.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the doctor slide backwards and the nurse rush over. I look at what they are both doing and see a pale white baby in their hands. Oh my God. It actually happened. Nicole is laying there catching her breath and I am look at the baby trying to see if it’s a boy or girl. At first, with all the chaos in the room, I am confused. Looking between its legs, I want to be 100% sure I know the sex before I make the announcement. Are those his testicles or her really swollen labia? Is that the umbilical cord or his penis? The nurse and doctor both pause to look at me. I can see the looks on their faces.
Them pausing gives me a clear shot and I look to Nicole. “Nicole, I want you to meet Hazel,” I choke out as 1 minute old Hazel is placed onto her mom’s bare chest. At 7:32pm on October 12, 2019, in Saint Louis, Missouri, Hazel Marie Boyes was born.
After 10 minutes of skin-on-skin and a successful attempt at latching and nursing, Hazel is taken to get measured and weighed. The doctor is finishing up giving Nicole stitches while I join the nurse at the heated bassinet. Finally, after all this time, Hazel finds her tiny little voice and starts wailing. I try to reassure her. She will be back to her mommy soon. And then, the words of a friend come to me.
At one of our baby showers, a friend of ours gave us a book, “Oh Baby, Oh Baby, The Places You’ll Go.” A Dr. Seuss book to read to unborn children. Every night from when we first got it, we read to little Hazel. We took it with us to Ohio and Indiana to visit our families. I read it every night when I was home. Nicole read it when I was away. Our friend told us that he read it to his son every night and he could have sworn when he read it to him after he was born, his son looked right at him.
So, I started reciting the book from memory to crying Hazel. “Oh Baby, Oh Baby, the places you’ll go. The people you’ll visit, the friends you’ll know...”
The nurse asks Nicole, “is he reciting Dr Seuss?” And just then, the crying stops. Little Hazel turns her head ever so slightly and looks toward me, unseeing but in recognition. I take a gasp as I choke down tears. The nurse wasn’t as successful in the attempt. Without a doubt, this moment, standing next to the bassinet and reciting a book to Hazel is a moment I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
Now, some special words for the All-Star of this story, Nicole. Following getting fixed up, Sarah walks back to Nicole and calls me over. “Okay, we are going to take you out of the stirrups and pull the bed back under you. Chris is here to help.” The intern nurse is standing between her legs and Nicole, not really understanding the instructions, lifts her butt in the air while the intern slides the bed into place. Sarah, having had two kids herself, stands there mouth agape. “Did you really just do a plank after an hour of childbirth?” She asks in awe. “You really are a badass.”
After two hours of skin-on-skin, it’s time to head to the recovery room. Before she can go she has to demonstrate she can walk to and use the bathroom. After 5 hours of epidural, most people’s legs are like spaghetti. “Alright Nicole,” Sarah says. “Swing your legs to the side of the bed. I’m going to be here for you...” Nicole hops down off the bed. “Of course you just jump right onto your feet. Do you need help walking to the bathroom? Or are you just going to cartwheel over there?”
****
After barely two days of rest and recovery, it’s time to head home. With Hazel tucked snugly into her car seat, we walk back out the way we came a lifetime earlier. Securely attached to the middle seat, I get in to drive and Nicole sits behind me next to the baby. My heart is in my throat, tears welling in my eyes. I’m terrified, more terrified than I’ve ever been.
Nicole bursts into tears. “Why would they let us take her home so early? What kind of place is this?! What if we can’t do this?” Both of us sit there in front of the lobby, tears streaming down our faces. After a few minutes, we both have regained our composure.
“I’m sure we aren’t the only ones who’ve thought this,” I say trying to reassure Nicole. “Alright Hazel, let’s take you home.” I put the car in drive, pull on to the interstate and head toward the next Chapter of our lives. And what an amazing Chapter it will be.
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