I was admitted to the hospital at 5:00pm on July 2, 2002. They weren’t planning to begin inducing me until the next morning, but they wanted to monitor the baby. We had a HUGE room all to ourselves and they brought in an awful chair/bed for Steve to sleep in. The nurse placed the IV, very poorly, right on my wrist. I took a shower and watched TV with Steve. I kept hoping, by some miracle, that everything would be fine. A lot of people told us they had a feeling everything would be fine. *Just a note here, when someone is in crisis, don’t tell them everything will be fine. The nurse gave me an ambien sleeping aid and I rested well our first night in the hospital.
Early the next morning they began the inducement process. First they start with a topical gel. That didn’t do anything, so a few hours later they started a pitocin drip through my IV. The day went very slowly. There was a heaviness in the air. So many close friends and family were there. We felt very loved and supported, in the midst of the emotional strain.
At 5:00pm the nurse came to talk to us. They felt it would be better to stop the inducement and let me rest through the night. I was exhausted but I couldn’t imagine stopping. I didn’t want to rest, I wanted to get this baby out and get some answers. Stopping was not an option. I couldn’t bear to wait another day. The nurse wouldn’t budge. She tried to tempt me by saying I could have whatever I wanted for dinner. A pregnant woman will do anything for a good meal, so I agreed to stop the inducement. I gave Steve my order and he ran out and got me a bean and cheese burrito from El Burrito Jr. and a cinnamon roll from Hof’s Hut. While he was gone the nursing staff changed shifts. He brought the food in to me and just as I was about to take my first delicious bite, the new nurse came in and told me I couldn’t eat my precious dinner. She explained politey that if I ate it, I would poop on the table tomorrow during my delivery. I guess she didn’t realize that this burrito and cinnamon roll was the only thing standing between me and insanity. Plus, I reasoned, I wouldn’t be the one to clean up the mess, now would I? I looked her straight in the eye and took a bite. I wasn’t in a mood to mess around.
The next morning they started inducing again. Things went more quickly this time. Nurses and doctors bustled in and out of the room. At 3:30pm I was fully dialated and ready to push. Steve and Chrissie (and a whole host of doctors and specialists) were in the room with me and lots of people waited in the lobby. It only took about 5 pushes to get little David out. As he began to immerge, I felt panic well up within me. Would he look like a monster? What did the future hold for this little one? The room was silent. The doctors whispered. David came in to the world quietly. No crying or gurgling. The doctors quickly took him over to a side table to examine him. I heard whispers about his left hand and demanded to know what they were saying. After a few minutes Steve came over to introduce our new son to me. He wieghed 4 lbs. 2 oz. and was 18 in. long. His apgar scores were 8 and 9. He showed me his little hand. Steve explained that the doctors also notice his neck was short and he had extra hair. Extra hair runs in my family, so I wan’t worried about that. I touched his little hand. I felt overwhelmed by relief that he was so cute and sorrow that he was so different than I expected. This is NOT the baby we were supposed to have, I thought. First I prayed, God please don’t let this baby die. Next I thought, Maybe he will just die and we can start over again. Mostly I just kept thinking, why, why, why?
p.s. I didn’t poop on the table