by Abby Howard, Eric's mom
It was a big day for me--Friday, November 13, 1998. I had just quit working at my part-time sewing job the day before. I was 35 weeks pregnant and planned to take the next few weeks off to relax and do a few final things at home before the birth. We had been concerned about the baby coming early, since my first baby had been very preterm. But this pregnancy had gone well, and it actually looked like I would make it to term, or close to term anyway.
This day was also special because my friends at church were throwing me a baby shower and luncheon. I was very excited about this. I did my hair up really nice, and put on my favorite plaid maternity shirt. I was going to enjoy myself.
I was drinking some herb tea about an hour before I had to leave to go to the shower, which was being held at the church at 12:30 p.m. I noticed a contraction, and I thought hmmm, that is funny---I was used to having contractions routinely every afternoon, like clockwork, but I couldn’t remember having them in the morning. Well, it was just one contraction, and it was shortly before noon, so I decided not to worry about it.
I went off to my shower. It was a blast! We played games like trying to guess how many jellybeans were in a baby bottle, or what items were in some brown paper bags, or how big my waist was! Then I sat in a rocking chair and opened the gifts---so many cute outfits and baby items; also practical things like baby wipes, powder and shampoo, and diapers. Last but not least, I got a nice Baby Sealy mattress for our crib, which was the one thing I really needed and asked for---several ladies bought it together, and then decorated it with bows and paper dolls!
After the gifts, we sat down to lunch. The table was decorated with a centerpiece made of little Winnie-the-Pooh and Friends bean animals. The cake had a Pooh candle, and there was a big balloon filled with baby miscellaneous and a stuffed Pooh bear, plus there were some Little Golden Pooh storybooks. It was so nicely done! Lunch itself was delicious, and I was hungry. I devoured good portions of several kinds of salads and finger sandwiches. The cake was a scrumptious nut cake with cream-cheese frosting!
During lunch, I noticed a few more contractions, making perhaps 4 or 5 total in the nearly two hours that the party lasted. Everyone was having such a great time. We sat around swapping stories about every thing from babies to adults. Some of the time I just sat quietly listening to the older ladies sharing experiences. More than once, someone would look at me and inquire if I was all right. Of course, I felt just fine. I was enjoying listening to the others’ stories. But one or two keen-eyed women were not convinced; they saw something cross my face, and kindly insisted that I didn’t look totally okay. So I admitted that I felt a contraction just then, but I was not to worry---my doc had instructed me just a few days ago that when my contractions were 5 minutes apart for an hour, then I was to call. These were way too far part to worry about. Besides, I was used to having some contractions every afternoon---I could always count on it. No big deal.
At last the wonderful party was over, and people helped me load the gifts into my car. They also sent the leftover food and cake home with me, to share with my husband Truman. One lady had taken pictures during the party, and promised to give them to us as soon as she got them developed. All in all, the baby shower was nicer than I ever could have dreamed.
Once I got home, I unloaded everything from the car. I put the food in the refrigerator. Then I began making a list of who had given me which gifts, so I could write thank-you notes later. When Truman arrived home from work, we planned to go to Sam’s Club, which was an hour’s drive away. I was going to get a big bag of chocolate chips and one of pecans, plus some other grocery items. I wanted to make my Christmas cookies on Monday, and freeze them, as the baby was due 10 days before Christmas, and I figured I would be too busy and tired then to bake. So off we went to Sam’s Club.
In the car, I noticed some more contractions. Come to think of it, I’d been having some while I was sorting through the gifts before we left. I began timing them by the clock on the dashboard. I was surprised to see that they were 6 minutes apart, then 5 minutes, then a little later they were only 4 minutes apart! Well, it had not been an hour yet, and we were almost to Sam’s Club. I told Truman about how close my contractions were, but I figured we could hurry in and get my groceries and be done in about 15 minutes. Then we could head right back home. The contractions were not hurting much at all, so I wasn’t too concerned. So we got the groceries, and chatted for a couple of minutes with my dad’s cousin who we met in the store. But by this time, the contractions hurt more, I needed to deep-breathe through them, so I told Truman that I thought we should go soon.
Truman was hungry, and we had planned to stop at McDonald’s for supper. At this point I did not want to eat, but I told him to go through the drive-thru and get himself a burger and fries. He worried that we did not have time to, but I insisted that we did have time, so he got his burger and fries. Then we hit the highway. Truman was worried as he listened to me breathing through the contractions, which were still about 4 minutes apart, so he drove about 80 mph on the Interstate! I told him to go home first, so we could get our suitcase and call the doctor before going to the hospital. We made the trip home in record time.
I called the doctor as soon as I got in the door. By this time, my contractions were 2 to 3 minutes apart! But I was able to cope with the pain by doing my breathing patterns that we had learned in childbirth class. It was about 6 p.m., so my regular doc was off duty for the weekend. I talked to the obstetrician on call, a lady doctor named Joan Barthold. She said it sounded like it was time to come in to the hospital.
Then Truman called my mom and a couple of close friends to tell them we were going to the hospital. We grabbed our bags, which I had packed weeks ago, just in case, but hadn’t yet got them into the car. Truman plunked the infant carseat in the back---we would have to strap it in properly later. Oh, don’t forget my pillow and my radio---I might like some music for relaxing. We were about to leave, and I said “we have forgotten something, but I’m not sure what.” Then I realized that we needed to get someone to take care of the dog; she needed her evening walk, and her food. We could not just leave her and we had not yet arranged for her care. None of our friends had a key to our house yet, and we don’t leave the door unlocked. So we figured we should have someone come over to get the dog or the key before we left. I called a friend, and she came right over. I was standing on the front porch, doubled over with a contraction when she arrived, so she insisted that we get on the road---she would take our dog to her house while we were in the hospital.
Truman was getting very nervous about what if the baby was born in the car. I was sure that would not happen. My water had not yet broken, so I figured that there was still time. I had a vague feeling of pelvic pressure, but then I’d noticed that for most of the day, come to think of it. Anyway, I’d just cross my legs and pant if I had to---no way was I going to push while still in the car. None-the-less, Truman drove about 80 mph again most of the way to the hospital. He flashed his lights and passed everyone in front of us. He was making me nervous, driving like that. After he ran a red light and nearly crashed into a car that had the green light, I begged him to be more careful and get me there in one piece, for goodness sakes! The contractions were strong and close together, and I wanted to squeeze his hand, but I did not dare, as he was driving. So I gripped the armrest of my seat and really concentrated on breathing through each contraction.
On arrival at the hospital’s front entrance, Truman ran inside and announced that his wife was having a baby in the car! There were a couple of security people, and a paramedic/fireman there. One of the security guys said he would park our car for us and be sure to give us back our car key. The fireman grabbed a wheelchair and came outside. Introducing himself, he helped me into it, while Truman grabbed our suitcase and my labor bag. Then he gave me my pillow and radio to hold, as the fireman wheeled me into the elevator. Don’t ask me why the birthing center is way down near the end of a very long hallway---maybe so that laboring women have a reason to walk through their contractions? Anyway, I thought we’d never get there, but we finally did, quite a few contractions later---ones that I never could have walked through! Thank you to the guy who invented the wheelchair that I did not have to walk!
Once in the birthing center, a nurse showed us into a room and helped me get undressed and into a gown. It was nearly 7 p.m. and time for shift change, so a few minutes later I had a new nurse, whose name was Penny. Just about then, Dr. Barthold showed up too. She did a vaginal exam, and announced that I was fully 10 cm dilated! What a shock! So I had transitioned already---maybe in the car during our trip here? But my water still had not broken, so the doctor said she would just break it for me and I could begin pushing the baby down, as he was still a bit high.
She broke my water, which was a warm wet feeling. Then the back labor began. I did not feel any urge to push, though the contractions were about 2 minutes apart, and lasting for nearly 90 seconds each. But the nurse was directing me to hold my breath and push with each contraction. Doing so gave me excruciating pain in my low back, so I would arch away from it. She said that was no good, it would not help the baby come down. She wanted me to curl forward as I pushed, like pushing down into the pain---she claimed it would help with the pain. But it really did not help---it felt like knives in my back, and I screamed and screamed, begging for pain medication. The doctor said, sorry, it was too late for any pain meds, I was in the pushing stage, and there was nothing they could give me now. She said the baby would be out soon, so just keep pushing. She did have me try a few different positions, like sitting upright, squatting, and hanging upright from a birthing bar above me. Nothing helped. I was in agony, and getting nowhere. At one point, I did push out a large bowel movement (sorry), and the doctor commented that perhaps that had been preventing me from pushing effectively.
I pushed and pushed, and screamed and screamed. I had never been in so much pain in my life! Several times, the nurse would get me to look at her (like I was a small child), and she would firmly tell me to stop screaming so much and put that effort into pushing instead. She said that the more I pushed the sooner it would be over. I felt like something just wasn’t right, but I had no clue what, so I couldn’t really argue with her. So I cried that it just hurt SO much, I couldn’t help but scream.
Over an hour and a half went by, and I was getting nowhere. The doctor said that the baby just wasn’t moving down, and she began to wonder if he was hung up on my pelvis. That would seem strange, as it was five weeks early and they estimated the baby to be about 5 pounds, but then I am a petite woman at 5’ and 110 pounds (not pregnant). She said maybe there was not enough room for the baby to fit through, and perhaps I would end up with a C-section. At that point I hardly cared, I was getting exhausted and the back labor pain was excruciating. I was also feeling light-headed from lack of oxygen---the contractions were still 2 minutes apart and lasting for 90 seconds, so I barely had time to catch my breath in between before I had to hold it again for pushing.
Before making a decision on the C-section, the doctor looked at my file once again. She asked me, “this is your second delivery, right?” I said yes. Then she asked, “did you have this much trouble pushing with your first baby?” That’s when Truman and I explained No, because Ezra was born very premature at 28 weeks, and he was IUGR, so he only weighed 13 ½ ounces. “Oh,” she said, “so physically this is more like a first delivery for you, rather than a typical second delivery.” This is the drawback of getting “the doctor on call” whom you haven’t met before, and they don’t know anything about you. Dr. Barthold had glanced briefly through my file when I came in, but she did not know some important details that would have made a difference in how she handled my delivery to start with. And I was too inexperience to understand that things were not as they should be and insist on doing it differently.
As it was, once she realized that this delivery needed to be handled like a first delivery, she changed her whole approach. First she said I could stop pushing, and just breathe through the contractions for a bit. What a huge relief!! Then she decided that we should try one more position, to see if that worked to help the baby come down. She had me get on my hands and knees. I was still on the birthing bed, and they had the head part of it elevated so my hands were higher than my knees and I was semi-upright, but leaning forward. To my surprise and relief, this reduced the low back pain quite a bit. This was most likely because in this position the baby’s head wasn’t pressing so hard against my spine.
Then the doctor decided that I could have a narcotic injected into my IV (I had the IV for antibiotics, standard procedure in preterm births to protect the baby from possible Group B Strep). They gave me one dose of Fentanyl, a narcotic similar to Nubain or Demerol. A few minutes later, they asked if I felt some pain relief. I wasn’t sure, so they gave me a second dose. A few minutes after that, I felt the baby drop down, without me even pushing! Then I felt a definite urge to push---up until then I had never once felt any urge to push; I had only done so because the doctor and nurse told me to.
At this point, though, I felt like I got my second wind. The break was just what I needed, and now I was ready. I told the nurse, Okay, now I can do this---I am ready to push. I stayed on my hands and knees, and pushed for about 20 more minutes. The contractions were still long and close together, so I would wait about 15 seconds into the contraction before holding my breath and pushing. This gave me a few extra seconds to catch my breath, so I didn’t begin hyperventilating again. This time, pushing was productive, and the baby was moving down. As the head began to appear, they had me stop long enough to turn over onto my back, semi-sitting up, for the actually delivery.
The baby’s head crowned, and they let me touch it, which was cool. Then I puuuuushed again, and the head was out. Again, and he was all the way out. It was nearly 2 ½ hours after the doctor broke my water! Oh, I was so glad it was over, I laughed and cried with relief. Truman got to cut the cord, and another nurse snapped a few instant pictures for us. I held our baby on my tummy for a few minutes, then they took him to the warmer to do his Apgars and clean him up, while the doctor had me push out the placenta.
We had known from the ultrasounds that he was a little boy, and we had already named him Eric Truman. He weighed 5 pounds even, and measured 18 ½ inches long. His Apgars were 7/8.
I had torn badly during the delivery. I actually had three tears, but only one needed stitches. It took Dr. Barthold about half an hour to stitch me up, and she was assisted by a young intern who had been present for most of my labor and delivery too, though I had hardly noticed him. I chatted with the doctor a bit and asked her why I had so much back pain. She said it was probably because of the baby’s position. It was a long time later that I understood that he was posterior, and that back labor is so common when the baby presents this way.
Anyway, I was so glad that Eric was finally born. Then I realized that my good friend Mary wasn’t there. We had asked her to come, and I had asked in my written birth preferences that she be allowed in during the birth. My mom lived a 7-hour drive away, and would not be able to make it, so I wanted Mary there standing in for her. That is when they told me that Mary was in the waiting room. She had arrived, but the doctor would not allow anyone in who was not a family member because the birth was preterm. Oh, well. They did let her in later, after I was stitched and cleaned up.
A little bit after the stitching was done, my legs began to shake uncontrollably. It was a really weird feeling. The nurse brought me some warm blankets to wrap around my legs, and to my surprise that helped the shaking go away. She said it was an after effect of the hard work I’d done to deliver Eric. I got up to go to the bathroom, and oh, my, I was so sore! I was also very swollen and bruised down there. The nurse showed me how to use my peri-bottle. Then she got me a big ice pack to sit on once I was back in bed. That felt awesomely good---she said I might need several ice packs that night! She said we needed to get the swelling down---I had pushed a long time, and that area was quite traumatized---then maybe in the morning I could take a warm bath with Epsom Salts, which would help with the healing.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I gasped. My eyes looked horrible! The whites of my eyes were not white. One was completely red and the other was about ¾ red. I asked the nurse about it, and she said I must have burst blood vessels in my eyes while doing all that pushing. Ya think so? It took over three weeks for the red in my eyes to go away, and of course everyone noticed it and asked me what happened!
Mary came in to see Eric and us, and she helped us figure out the telephone so we could call my parents, who were waiting for our news. It was late at night by then, so we decided to wait till morning to call Truman’s parents. We’ve had some difficulties with them since Ezra’s death, (they blamed us for his death), so it wasn’t urgent that we call them immediately. My other friend Irene came in briefly to see me and the baby. I knew Truman had phoned her to tell her we were going in, but I didn’t realize that she had come to the hospital, and spent the evening in the waiting room too, with her kids. At least she had a chance to make friends with Mary!
My parents were so happy for us. My dad had to work Saturday morning, but then they were going to drive out here to see us. They figured they would arrive late Saturday evening. That was probably just as well. The doctor wanted us to limit visitors for a day or so, as the baby was early and small, and was having some trouble with regulating his temperature. They kept Eric in the warmer for a long time, and said he shouldn’t be passed around to a lot of people until he was doing better.
My parents stopped briefly at the hospital to see us the next night, then they went to our house to sleep. By Sunday, we had called Truman’s parents, and sisters, also my brother, and everyone came, bearing gifts, to see the new baby. We felt so proud and happy to finally have a healthy baby, having lost our first son Ezra nearly a year and a half before. Truman’s parents refrained from saying anything about Ezra, which was a relief to us, because they previously had only bad things to say about it anyway.
I was formally released from the hospital Sunday afternoon. However, Eric still did not know how to feed, so he would have to stay until he learned that. This is not uncommon for 35-weekers, their sucking and rooting reflexes just haven’t yet developed. They figured that he would develop that in about a week. In the meantime, they began tube feeding him some formula; this was to give him some calories to help him stay warm---early babies also lack brown fat, which helps them keep warm. I was provided with a breastpump to start stimulating my milk to come in, as Eric was unable to suck on my breasts, yet.
I was allowed to stay on “boarder status” as a breastfeeding mom. They let me stay in the same room where I gave birth, and they provided my meals. Truman was allowed to stay with me and Eric, but of course he had to buy his own meals at the cafeteria downstairs. When my milk came in, they fed it to Eric with the tube, at first. Then we tried giving it to him in a syringe. We also tried putting him on my breast, but he just wouldn’t suck. After a few days of trying, though, he finally began sucking just a little. Then gradually, he began sucking more. It is hard work for a baby to get milk from the breast, so we offered him some breast milk in a little bottle with a special nipple for preemie babies. He finally began to suck milk from that. By the sixth day, we worked out a little routine: put him to breast for a little bit, then give him about 1 ½ ounces of pumped milk in a preemie bottle.
After six days in the hospital, which included a 24-hr stint under bili-lights because of his jaundice, we were finally allowed to bring Eric home. The doctors were satisfied that we had a workable feeding routine. I had to rent a breastpump to take home with me, but at least Eric would be getting my breastmilk, which I felt was important. I was also going to continue putting him to breast to let him try nursing directly. The nurse gave us a breastfeeding log to help keep track of his feedings and eliminations so we had a good idea if he was getting enough nourishment. She also gave us a bag of preemie bottles to use for supplementing with pumped Breastmilk.
It felt so good to be home again. And it especially felt SO wonderful to be holding my beautiful healthy living baby in my arms. A new baby never replaces the one lost, but it was so healing to hold Eric after losing Ezra. At last my arms were filled and the ache gone.
My mom had been keeping house and taking care of the dog and cat for us while we were in the hospital with Eric. She stayed for a few more days after we come home, and even made us an early Thanksgiving dinner before she left.
Within a month Eric was nursing like a pro, and I stopped pumping and giving supplemental bottles. He grew so quickly, and I felt that my body was proving to me that I could nourish a healthy baby after all, both through the pregnancy and through breastfeeding. It did a lot to restore what I had lost with Ezra. At the same time, I will always hold special memories of Ezra in my heart, knowing he is happy in Heaven with Jesus.
