My due date
came and went with no baby. I was exhausted and uncomfortable by this point. I
had done my forty weeks and was ready to meet the little guy who had been
hosting non-stop parties in my belly for months. Dr. Kindel told us that she
preferred to wait two weeks past our due date before inducing; however, she
made an exception per our request. Adam’s dad was scheduled to leave for Africa
on June 17th, eight days past our due date. If I didn’t go into
labor on my own or if she didn’t induce before then, Jamil wouldn’t be able to
meet his first born grandbaby until months later. We set up an induction date
for Monday, June 15th. Finally, an end in sight.
Even though
my back ached and my feet felt like someone was crushing my soles with a hammer
every time I took a step, I knew that the last thing I wanted was Pitocin. I
was bound and determined to convince our little to join us in this
crazy world without an induction. I ate more eggplant parmesan, spicy food, and
fresh pineapple that week than most people do in a lifetime. I apologize to the
cities of Wichita and Andover because I think I may have purchased every bit of
fresh pineapple that the stores had to offer.
I had my
forty-week appointment, an appointment I was hoping to cancel, scheduled for Thursday,
June 11th. Contractions woke me from my deep slumber at 3:30am on
that Thursday. They were mild and about twenty minutes apart. Of course I was
too excited to sleep even though I knew that the day was shaping up to be a
long day, and I would need all of the rest I could get. I eventually dozed back
off and was in and out of sleep until a few hours later. My contractions were
fairly consistent and started to get closer together as the day progressed;
however, they weren’t close enough together to cancel my appointment with Dr.
Kindel.
We showed
up to the appointment anxious to tell her about our progress and hoped that her
checks would indicate that we were going to have a baby sooner rather than
later. I was 100% effaced, but only 1cm dilated. Based on those results, we would
most likely be entering the wonderful world of parenthood sometime Friday or over
the weekend. The weekend? Nooooo. As much as I wanted to meet this little guy
already, this weekend wouldn't work for us. The doctors all rotate weekends and
unfortunately for us, Dr. Kindel was on call last weekend and not this weekend.
Baby Boy Bakri had approximately twenty-four hours to show his little face.
We headed
home knowing that there was still more of the waiting game left to play. It was
the same torture you feel as a kid on Christmas when you wake up extremely
early and know that Santa has already squeezed his big belly down your chimney,
but your parents make you wait to open your presents because they want to sleep in. The hands on the clock move so slowly that they are
practically going backwards.
I called my
mom and told her that I had been having contractions. My parents planned on
driving to Wichita first thing Friday morning so they could be there for the
birth. After hanging up with my mom, it wasn’t but a few moments later that
she called and said they were headed to Wichita just to play it safe. Adam and
I weren’t the only ones eager for our little guy’s arrival.
Adam’s
parents came over to our house that afternoon to help pass the time and get our
minds off of things. We played the friendliest game of cards I have ever played
in my life. I am normally an extremely competitive person, but the fact that I
felt like someone was sucker punching me in between card lays made it a little hard
to concentrate. I can’t even remember who won the game, but according to Adam,
he took home the “W” that day. Sometimes you just have to throw a dog a bone, I guess.
My parents
finally made it to town. We all hung out and watched the Cavaliers game on TV.
It was the NBA finals and if you know my husband, you know he is a die-hard LeBron
James fan, even suggesting that our first-born son be named LeBron. Don’t get
me wrong, I love LeBron. Besides being a phenomenal athlete, he is an exceptional
human being giving back more than his fair share and putting over a thousand
kids through college. He is a rare gem in today’s flashy society. But all of
his greatness aside, there was no way I was going to name my sweet baby boy
after him.
My
contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I had been keeping
track of the times of each contraction to monitor the number of minutes between
them. Dr. Kindel told us to head to the hospital when the contractions were
three to five minutes apart. After what seemed like forever, our contractions were finally five minutes apart. It was still the first half of the basketball game, though, and there was a lot of
time left. Adam was ready to drop the remote and speed down Kellogg, but I
insisted that we stay so he could watch more of the game. I figured I could make it until at least halftime before we would leave our
house for the last time as a party of two.
With just a
few minutes left in the half, I realized there was no way I was going to make
it. My contractions were now three minutes apart and we still had a fifteen to
twenty minute drive to the hospital. Our bags were already packed and loaded
into the car. We called Adam’s parents and headed out the door.
Once at the
hospital, I filled out all of the necessary paperwork with a little help from
Adam considering my contractions were making it nearly impossible to focus on anything other than not crippling over in pain. A
nurse took us back to a room and told us that she wanted to get us hooked up to
a monitor and checked out to see if I was in labor and would be staying or if it
was a false alarm and would be sent back home. She helped us get settled in and
asked us a series of routine questions including whether we were considering an
epidural or not, which was something we were still up in the air about. Adam
and I had decided to forgo a birth plan for fear that a set plan might
interfere with our ability to adjust and accept the unpredictability of labor
and childbirth. I had been in labor all day and the contractions weren’t that
bad, so I considered a natural childbirth. The nurse then checked me to see how
dilated I was at this point in the labor process. I felt a huge gush of water.
I looked at Adam and then back at the nurse before saying, “Um, I think my
water just broke.”
The nurse tested
the fluid to see if it was amniotic fluid. Sure enough, my water breaking was
the culprit behind my now soaked hospital bed. We wouldn’t be going home, not
without a baby at least. Once my water broke, my contractions picked up almost
immediately. The pain was the worst pain I had experienced in my life. They
were so intense that a wave of nausea quickly overcame me. The last thing I
wanted at this point in time was to taste my lunch for a second time. Bring
on the drugs.
As I waited
impatiently for the epidural, a medical student came in to do a health history.
Normally I am always one for students. Having earned a Bachelor of Science in
Nursing, I have been that student hiding out in the corner of a patient’s room
trying to learn as much as possible without upsetting the patient or family. I
tried my hardest to be tolerant with the student while answering what seemed
like more questions than Siri does on an average day.
The CRNA came in to start
my epidural. The nurse checked me again, even though she had checked me less
than one-hour prior. I was 1.5cm upon arrival at the hospital. I was now at a
7, which meant that in less than an hour I went from being dilated 1.5cm to
7cm. At least those hard contractions weren’t for nothing. Adam’s eyes got
really big when he saw the size of the needle, which of course didn’t faze me
because I knew the pain of the epidural stick would pale in comparison to my
contractions. After the CRNA started the epidural, the nurse checked me again.
This time, though, I was dilated to 10cm. The nurse couldn’t believe it and
asked the resident covering the nightshift to come in and verify. Sure enough, I
was already dilated to a 10.
The nurse
gave Dr. Kindel a call to update her on my status. She decided that she wanted
to wait and let our little guy take his time and gradually move down on his own
before I pushed. Both my parents and Adam’s parents, who had all been out in
the waiting room, came in to see us while we played the waiting game, again.
The Cavaliers were getting smoked, so I wasn’t the only one who needed a nice
distraction. After about two hours, I started feeling a lot of pressure and
also intense pain on my right side. The CRNA checked me and discovered that I
had developed a “hot spot" on the right side of my body, meaning the epidural was
only working on my left side. The nurse called Dr. Kindel who arrived a little
after 1:30am. It was time to push.
After about
twenty minutes of hard pushing, the baby seemed to be stuck. He was face up
making the delivery a little more difficult. Dr. Kindel explained to Adam and I
that she may need to use the VAC on him. Even though Adam didn’t quite understand,
the more medical staff making themselves present in our room and the bustling
of bodies made him nervous. I was bound and determined to deliver our little guy
without the VAC. The nurse put an oxygen mask on me, and I used every ounce of
strength left in my body. We were doing four long pushes each contraction for
the next ten minutes and at 2:33am, our beautiful baby made his entrance into
the world: Monroe Mohamed Bakri weighed in at 7lbs, 15oz and was 20.5in long.
Even with his little cone-head, he was still the most beautiful and perfect
baby I had ever laid eyes on. Adam cut the umbilical cord, and the nurse
immediately laid him on my chest for a little kangaroo care. After about one
hour, the nurse took him to the other side of the room and finished up his
measurements, APGAR scoring, and so forth. I remember looking over and watching
as he held up his own head, something very uncharacteristic for a newborn. The
nurse, wearing the same shocked expression on her face as me, told us that our
little guy had some strong neck muscles. Must have been all of those parties and dancing.
She wrapped
our little guy up and handed him to his proud daddy. I love Adam. But seeing
him hold our sweet baby Roe made me fall even more in love with him. Be still
my heart. Adam held him for a little bit before heading out to the waiting room
to get four anxious grandparents. They had been sitting in the waiting room for
hours just waiting, waiting, and waiting. We told them they could go home and that
we would call them when we had some exciting news to share, but no one wanted
to miss the birth of their beautiful grandbaby. And just like that, we were now
Bakri, party of three.
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