Ethan

I'm never really sure where to begin Ethan's birth story- on Tuesday during our childbirth class when contractions began in earnest but I was only dilated to 2 cm? Dr. Hansen came in with a big smile and said "I bet I'll see you tomorrow." There was a huge snowstorm and Matt's work paid for a hotel room for us so we wouldn't have to drive the 60 miles home. We walked around and around the room and told the baby that now would be a very convenient time to come. Lots of contractions, no baby. Wednesday morning they slowed down so Matt went to work and I went to Cindy's house for some distraction. Later Matt called and said the doctor had been trying go get ahold of me all morning, thinking that we would be showing up at the hospital anytime. The contractions were bad that night and I felt really nauseous. Dr. Hansen said to come in Thursday morning- 3 cm. She hooked me up to the fetal monitor. Wow, look at those contractions, said a nurse. Yes, they do look a wee bit painful, DON'T THEY. An hour later I was dilated to 4 cm. I think this is it! Dr. Hansen said with a hug. We walked the hallways. An hour later, at noon, I was at 5. The nurse started taking all the new-baby paraphernalia out of the plastic wrapping and laid out the tiny T-shirt and cap. We walked the hallways. At six o'clock that evening Dr. Hansen came back with another hug and a cheery, I bet we're close! Let's get ready to have a baby! Uhh...no. Still at 5 cm. Are you fricking kidding me? We walked the hallways. She came back later than evening- still 5. The contractions were intense and close together, so Pitocin or breaking my water wouldn't do any good. She suggested that an epidural might relax my muscles enough to dilate the rest of the way. I started to cry- that wasn't part of my birth plan. She said we could wait til midnight. We walked the hallways, stopping every couple steps to get through contractions. I was getting discouraged.

Wendall the Anesthesiologist was a very outgoing man. I told him all the epidural horror stories I had heard from friends. He asked where they had given birth. Interestingly enough, they were all at the Blair hospital. "Ummm, yeah, I know that guy," he said. Wendall had been doing this for over 30 years and was the president of the Nebraska Anesthiologists Whatever Group. Okay, I guess you're qualified enough to stick that huge freaking needle into my spine. He and Matt talked during the whole procedure. He was very entertaining but I was too tired and discouraged and creeped out by the HUGE NEEDLE IN MY BACK to notice. Almost immediately, though, the pain disappeared. Ohhhh, maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Dr. Hansen was back with another hug and some encouraging words. Then she ruined it by saying that she was getting concerned about all this stress on the baby and if labor didn't progress any further by morning, she would have to do a c-section. That definitely was not part of my birth plan.

I called my mother at 4 am and started sobbing when I told her about the cesearean. I was so worried about disappointing her- like she had ever shown anything but unconditional love and support to us. "Oh honey, you'll just have to do whatever it takes to get that baby safely here," she reassured me. "God bless you." Good thing I had my pregnancy books, I had completely skipped the chapters about c-sections. I was going to have a natural birth. I read and prayed. (Fun Fact: On the list of potential side effects of surgery, number one was death. Sheesh, they couldn't have started with rash, then worked the way down to paralysis and death.)

Frday, December 9th, 6 am
5 cm
Dr. Hansen told us what to expect about the surgery and the team started assembling. By that point I was just ready to get the whole thing over with and hold my baby. Wendall reappeared and added The Good Stuff to the epidural. I wondered how the baby was tolerating all these drugs. Was I going to give birth to a crackhead? He probably already had a 'roid problem from the steroids we were dosed with back during the pre-term labor drama. If I had known that when it got down to it, he would refuse to come out, we could have saved ourselves a lot of hassle.

The operating room was so cold. The whole thing felt surreal. After much, much, much pulling and prodding, Ethan was lifted out. His little squeaky cries were the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Matt followed him over to the incubator, then gently carried him back so I could see him. I will never forget the tender, awestruck look on Matt's face as he held our son. We had the most beautiful baby ever, of course. Dr. Hansen agreed. Wendall took pictures. The surgeon stitched me up and I headed to the recovery room while Matt, the baby, and his team went to the nursery. After the longest half-hour of my life, the nurse took me to my room and Dr. Hansen and Matt came in with Ethan. She helped us get situated to nurse (by ramming him rather violently at my chest) and he latched on like a champ. We marveled at this tiny, perfect being. Matt reported that the respiratory person had suctioned some fluid out of his lungs and we were supposed to keep track of his O2 sats. Also, we had to keep his body temperature above something or they would take him back to the nursery. (For weeks, Matt freaked out if Ethan's foot poked out of the blanket or his hat slid off his head a little, ever fearful that the nurse with the thermometer was lurking nearby to snatch him.)

So, the happiest possible ending was ours. Ethan was safely in our arms, his lungs were fully developed, and our lives would never be the same. God is good.