fast and furious

Scout, Alex and me 7.20.10

Tuesday, July 20th started out with a bang when our new family member, Scout St. Clair, was born at 7:32am. But let me back up for a second and bring you up to speed (pun intended) on the baby that was almost born in a parking lot.

Throughout the day last Monday I was feeling a little "off." Sometimes nauseous and a little crampy, I was having what I thought were Braxton Hicks contractions. I was still 11 days from my due date, but I had a feeling that the baby would be arriving sooner. I even joked with a co-worker that afternoon saying she should be prepared to come to my house in the middle of the night in case we had to rush to the hospital.

At home that night, I felt a dull pain in my back (was that what contractions felt like--I couldn't remember) from time to time but went about my business as usual. When I went to bed around 11:00pm, I   came to the realization that I was definitely having contractions, but I didn't think they were strong enough or regular enough to begin timing. I was in and out of sleep the entire night, and while there were definitely moments of being extremely uncomfortable, I never thought I was in active labor. Every time I looked at the clock, I kept telling myself, "just [X] number of hours before you can drop Catcher off at daycare, and then you can go to the hospital." (By the way, you can't "schedule" a baby's birth when the baby is ready.)

Around 5:00am I began timing my contractions, which were about five minutes apart, and decided to wake my husband at 5:45 so he could get Catcher up and get him to daycare by 6:30 (I even told him he had time for shower).  I continued timing my contractions--with the handy Baby Bump app on my iPhone--and saw they were suddenly four...then three minutes apart. Then things really started happening fast...

I put off calling my doctor until Alex had left with Catcher. Looking back it seems completely ridiculous, but at the time I didn't realize that I would first call the office and speak with an after-hours operator; wait 15 minutes for the nurse to call me back (who spoke way to slowly in a sweet southern drawl); then wait an additional 15 more minutes to hear from the doctor who was on call at the hospital. By the time Alex walked in the door, I was panting and sweating and focused solely on getting to the hospital. When I finally got the doctor on the phone, I couldn't speak through my contractions so I threw the phone at Alex and said, "You talk!" Poor guy, he obeyed and the next thing I hear is, "Um, yes...my wife thinks she's going into labor." At that point I was having visions of my husband delivering the baby in our living room, so I grabbed the phone back to let the doctor know that I was certifiably in labor. He asked if I was ready to come into the hospital ("Are you nuts?" I thought)..."Yes! Immediately."

The actual car ride is a bit fuzzy. I paused on our front porch as a painful contraction and uncontrollable desire to push overcame my body (at that point, I knew I was in trouble but I couldn't let Alex know how serious it was). Our crazy next door neighbor was in his front yard trying to strike up a conversation about some lawnmower he had found on the street, "We're a little busy here, Andy," said Alex as he helped me into the car. Alex ran a red light or two; I dug my fingernails into his arm (he has the battle scars to prove it) while noises I've never heard before were coming from my mouth. When we arrived at the hospital, we went straight to the parking lot (the nurses would later give Alex grief for not dropping me off at the emergency room, but hindsight tells us he would've missed the birth had that been the case) and somehow maneuvered our way to the front entrance where an observant hospital attendant saw our predicament and got me into a wheelchair and up to the maternity ward in record speed (it's 7:15am at this moment).

The second I rounded the corner at the eighth floor nurses station, they knew by looking at me that it was go time. Because the hospital staff changes shifts at 7:00am, there were about twelve nurses and two doctors on hand to help out with our situation. Once I made it to the room (it's 7:20), the nurses worked like mad to get me undressed and into my hospital gown and on the bed for the doctor to check things out, "She's ten centimeters," I heard him say. "Shit!" I replied. No chance for an epidural...and it's time to push.

Alex was quickly shuffled to my side, and everyone was reassuring me that things were okay and we'd have a baby soon. "Just two more contractions," one of the nurses said, "and then you can push like you haven't gone to the bathroom in a month." The next thing I know I'm pushing; a nurse has jumped on top of the bed and is bearing down on my abdomen; Alex is by my side coaching and reassuring me...and then I hear the baby cry. It's 7:32am. Alex is on the phone with my mom and I'm texting friends by 8:00...breakfast is served at 8:30. The beauty of birth!

Catcher and his baby sister Scout