A mistake I made. A mistake I made up for. Thank God for second chances.
John,
All four of my children have their birthdays within a three month period of each other from mid March to end of June, so it is always a time to reminisce about where we've been, where we are, and dream about where we are going with them. Kelly (my third child) just recently had her 8th birthday. I sent you a copy of Vikki's blog telling a little bit of the story behind her birth. We felt Kelly was finally old enough to understand the story, and tell the rest of the kids at the same time. We always felt it was Kelly's story, so we wanted to wait to tell it to the older kids only after she knew. Since that has recently taken place, I can now take the opportunity to do some "personal history" on the blog and tell you the story form my perspective.
April 18, 2002 at around 3:00 in the afternoon I was at work, attending to my patients, when Vikki called to tell me she was having contractions seven minutes apart. I had one more patient left for the day, so I told her to get ready and I would be home shortly to take her to the hospital.
Once we got to the hospital Vikki was taken to the triage area for evaluation prior to admission. The nurse on duty measured Vikki at 3 cm, but was unimpressed with her contractions. (Vikki has always been very stoic with her outward presentation of contractions during labor and doctors usually don't realize how far along she really is.) We were told that Vikki would not be admitted until she was dilated past 3 cm, so we waited for an hour.
After an hour, monitors indicating that contractions were taking place, the nurse check the cervix again to find no progress made. She suggested that we go home, but Vikki wanted to stay. This irritated the nurse and she did not try to hide it. Nonetheless, Vikki wanted to stay, so we walked around the hospital for another hour hoping that she would dilate a little more and then be admitted.
We were there during a shift change and the triage nurse was going home. With that in mind Vikki was checked again and still no advancement in dilation. Trying to convince the nurse that we wanted to stay we made the mistake of telling her that Vikki had her "membranes stripped" earlier in the day at the OBGYN office. The triage nurse rolled her eyes, went on and on about how that was a ridiculous procedure and basically called our OBGYN a witch-doctor. (She didn't actually say that, but it was implied.) The nurse said that Vikki was in pain from that barbaric procedure was in "false labor" and suggested she take a sleeping pill and go home to sleep it all off. Also, this baby was coming 11 days early, whereas the two older kids were both more than a week late when they came.
The nurse went on and on. We were tired and somewhat confused. We were made to feel as if we had no say in the matter. And then it happened. I made a mistake. I let someone tell me what to do when I knew differently. I had been with my wife through two other labors and births. I knew she was in labor, the monitors were showing proof of contractions, and she was already at 3 cm. Furthermore, I had a distinct impression, soft but distinct, that we should not be bullied into going home. However, I let someone confuse me and therefore the string of events that followed are a result of me not standing up for Vikki's best interests. I failed my wife. Worse yet, she blamed herself for a very long time afterwards.
So a mistake was made by not following the prompting given me at the time. Lucky for all of us the Lord saw fit to give me a second chance. More on that in a moment.
For reasons I still do not understand, I allowed the nurse to talk us into giving Vikki and Ambien so that she would go home and sleep off the "trauma" Vikki was made to "suffer" at the OBGYN office. I really should have been flogged. Nonetheless, I allowed the nurse to give her the pill at the hospital and I begrudgingly took her straight home and put her to bed.
It was around 11:00 PM when Vikki called out to me from the bedroom. I was watching something on the tube at the time. I ran into the bedroom to see what the problem was. She said she felt like she needed to push. Only hours later did I realize that Vikki had been suffering for the past few hours, in the dark, alone. All because I made a mistake.
I flipped on the lights and said (hysterically) "No...there's no pushing! Not here! Don't push! Don't push!
I tried to quickly get back into my street clothes and mentally told myself, "This is not happening!"
But it was happening. (Panic.)
In that moment I truly thought I would get dressed, wake my six and three year-old, secure everyone in the minivan and race to the ER where trained professionals would take care of Vikki without hesitation.
The whole time I was thinking to myself, "This is not happening, here!"
But it was happening. And it was happening here. (More panic.)
"I have to push!" Vikki howled.
"No, no, no! Don't push," I begged.
"I think I feel something. You have to look and see," Vikki panted.
My stomach was in my throat. Mentally I cowered to myself, "But I don't want to see...don't make me see." As if there was at all a choice.
Vikki got into the typical position for delivering a baby so I could see what was going on. What I saw almost short-circuited my little brain. When I got to take a look at the business end of this comedy of errors I was not prepared for what I saw. I saw a "water balloon." A big water balloon. It was the size of a grapefruit.
You have to understand, with Ryan the water broke at home and with Brooke the OBGYN broke the water as part of the delivery process. So, long story made short, I did not realize what I was looking at was the amniotic sac protruding out intact. It was only years later that I was made aware of an old midwife term called "being born in the veil." It means an unbroken sac is coming out ahead of the baby. Anyway, it was with that uncertainty that I called 911 for the first time in my life.
I sounded like a frantic father while on the phone. The operator asked me to describe the scene. I gave her a vivid description that left her speechless. At that point I requested paramedics and hung up. Wrong thing to do, I know. But hey, this was my first time.
I ran from the bedroom to open the front door, and turn on the lights for the first responders. I turned on all the lights as I made my way back to the bedroom.
The whole time I praying, "OK, it's happening here, but not by me! Please, not by me!"
By the time I got back, the water balloon had doubled in size. As I stood there in the door to our room I had a moment of clarity. In that moment chaos was replaced with calm. In that moment I recognized that we were not going to make it to the hospital. In that moment I realized that the paramedics were not going to make it in time. In that moment I knew I had to step up and make up for my earlier mistake. I had the horrible realization that I was going to have to deliver this baby.
Vikki was doing all she could to not push, but nature is a powerful force. It is the only force more powerful than a mother's will.
I got back up on the bed and examined the water balloon. I looked at the size and the edges. I ran my fingers over the bulbous emanation. I had no idea what it was I was looking at. And then, a still and small voice said, "Look though it, not at it." And so I did. And when I did I thought I saw hair. And for the first time I realized that this was the amniotic sac that had not yet been broken. When I finally realized that, my mind replayed a scene from my life that took place three years earlier, in a hospital room, when Brook was born. It played out in my mind like it was in HD.
Three years earlier: Our OBGYN is a funny guy. He walked in the room around 6:00 AM wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt. He had just come from swimming practice with one of his kids. He could tell Vikki was in a good mood and he sauntered over, checked her out and found her to be at 6 cm. He said with a big smile, "Give me a big push and let's get this little one out so I can get back to the pool." He was joking, but Vikki bared down, his face got serious and he said, "Stop pushing, you are crowning, I'll be right back." He raced out and was back in five minutes all gowned up and a big smile back on his face.
He called me over, said I really ought to know how to deliver a baby and then he taught me, step by step, how to deliver a normal baby with a normal presentation. We joked the whole time as we did it. Vikki was a little irritated with me since, you know, she was in labor and pain all that. But I actually paid attention to what the doc was telling me. I thought it was great at the time. Little did I realize just how important that lesson would be.
Now fast-forward three years back to the scene at hand.
Back with Vikki and little Kelly on the way I did everything he taught me three years earlier. I knew where my hands were supposed to be. I ran my fingers down underneath the amniotic sac until I could feel a little nose and chin. She was right there. Everything happened very quickly from that moment.
I used my finger to tear open the sac and gallons of the fluid rushed out all over the bed. Oddly enough I still had a sense of humor as I mused to myself, "Oooh. Yeah, now that's gonna leave a spot."
I continued to work. Using my hands and fingers the way the OBGYN had showed me only a few years earlier I pushed and pulled at the walls of the vaginal opening and birth canal. I could get my fingers up under Kelly's chin and feel the neck. I told Vikki to push and the head came out. Boom! There it was. One more push and she shot right out of there like a little canon ball. I caught her one-handed it happened so quickly. She let out a little irritated squeek as she took in her first breath of air. I laugh at myself now, but in that moment I was amused by how un-slippery she was. I bounced her little body up and down, left and right and she lay there pretty solid in my very wet hand. I would have thought all that mush would have been slippery, but it really isn't.
I wrapped her up in a bath towel and gave her to Vikki. Within minutes of that Engine 212 pulled up, along with an ambulance and three police cars. We had nine first responders in our home that night and the two older kids slept through the whole thing.
Kelly's Apgar score was a 9. There are so many thing that could have gone wrong. What's worse is it could all have been avoided had I only stood my ground earlier in the evening. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. It didn't matter at the point. What mattered is I followed the spirit when given a second chance. Thank you, Father, for second chances.
I think Vikki must have forgiven me somewhere along the way. She had another child with me! And we made sure we stayed at the hospital for him!
With that in mind, good night.
All four of my children have their birthdays within a three month period of each other from mid March to end of June, so it is always a time to reminisce about where we've been, where we are, and dream about where we are going with them. Kelly (my third child) just recently had her 8th birthday. I sent you a copy of Vikki's blog telling a little bit of the story behind her birth. We felt Kelly was finally old enough to understand the story, and tell the rest of the kids at the same time. We always felt it was Kelly's story, so we wanted to wait to tell it to the older kids only after she knew. Since that has recently taken place, I can now take the opportunity to do some "personal history" on the blog and tell you the story form my perspective.
April 18, 2002 at around 3:00 in the afternoon I was at work, attending to my patients, when Vikki called to tell me she was having contractions seven minutes apart. I had one more patient left for the day, so I told her to get ready and I would be home shortly to take her to the hospital.
Once we got to the hospital Vikki was taken to the triage area for evaluation prior to admission. The nurse on duty measured Vikki at 3 cm, but was unimpressed with her contractions. (Vikki has always been very stoic with her outward presentation of contractions during labor and doctors usually don't realize how far along she really is.) We were told that Vikki would not be admitted until she was dilated past 3 cm, so we waited for an hour.
After an hour, monitors indicating that contractions were taking place, the nurse check the cervix again to find no progress made. She suggested that we go home, but Vikki wanted to stay. This irritated the nurse and she did not try to hide it. Nonetheless, Vikki wanted to stay, so we walked around the hospital for another hour hoping that she would dilate a little more and then be admitted.
We were there during a shift change and the triage nurse was going home. With that in mind Vikki was checked again and still no advancement in dilation. Trying to convince the nurse that we wanted to stay we made the mistake of telling her that Vikki had her "membranes stripped" earlier in the day at the OBGYN office. The triage nurse rolled her eyes, went on and on about how that was a ridiculous procedure and basically called our OBGYN a witch-doctor. (She didn't actually say that, but it was implied.) The nurse said that Vikki was in pain from that barbaric procedure was in "false labor" and suggested she take a sleeping pill and go home to sleep it all off. Also, this baby was coming 11 days early, whereas the two older kids were both more than a week late when they came.
The nurse went on and on. We were tired and somewhat confused. We were made to feel as if we had no say in the matter. And then it happened. I made a mistake. I let someone tell me what to do when I knew differently. I had been with my wife through two other labors and births. I knew she was in labor, the monitors were showing proof of contractions, and she was already at 3 cm. Furthermore, I had a distinct impression, soft but distinct, that we should not be bullied into going home. However, I let someone confuse me and therefore the string of events that followed are a result of me not standing up for Vikki's best interests. I failed my wife. Worse yet, she blamed herself for a very long time afterwards.
So a mistake was made by not following the prompting given me at the time. Lucky for all of us the Lord saw fit to give me a second chance. More on that in a moment.
For reasons I still do not understand, I allowed the nurse to talk us into giving Vikki and Ambien so that she would go home and sleep off the "trauma" Vikki was made to "suffer" at the OBGYN office. I really should have been flogged. Nonetheless, I allowed the nurse to give her the pill at the hospital and I begrudgingly took her straight home and put her to bed.
It was around 11:00 PM when Vikki called out to me from the bedroom. I was watching something on the tube at the time. I ran into the bedroom to see what the problem was. She said she felt like she needed to push. Only hours later did I realize that Vikki had been suffering for the past few hours, in the dark, alone. All because I made a mistake.
I flipped on the lights and said (hysterically) "No...there's no pushing! Not here! Don't push! Don't push!
I tried to quickly get back into my street clothes and mentally told myself, "This is not happening!"
But it was happening. (Panic.)
In that moment I truly thought I would get dressed, wake my six and three year-old, secure everyone in the minivan and race to the ER where trained professionals would take care of Vikki without hesitation.
The whole time I was thinking to myself, "This is not happening, here!"
But it was happening. And it was happening here. (More panic.)
"I have to push!" Vikki howled.
"No, no, no! Don't push," I begged.
"I think I feel something. You have to look and see," Vikki panted.
My stomach was in my throat. Mentally I cowered to myself, "But I don't want to see...don't make me see." As if there was at all a choice.
Vikki got into the typical position for delivering a baby so I could see what was going on. What I saw almost short-circuited my little brain. When I got to take a look at the business end of this comedy of errors I was not prepared for what I saw. I saw a "water balloon." A big water balloon. It was the size of a grapefruit.
You have to understand, with Ryan the water broke at home and with Brooke the OBGYN broke the water as part of the delivery process. So, long story made short, I did not realize what I was looking at was the amniotic sac protruding out intact. It was only years later that I was made aware of an old midwife term called "being born in the veil." It means an unbroken sac is coming out ahead of the baby. Anyway, it was with that uncertainty that I called 911 for the first time in my life.
I sounded like a frantic father while on the phone. The operator asked me to describe the scene. I gave her a vivid description that left her speechless. At that point I requested paramedics and hung up. Wrong thing to do, I know. But hey, this was my first time.
I ran from the bedroom to open the front door, and turn on the lights for the first responders. I turned on all the lights as I made my way back to the bedroom.
The whole time I praying, "OK, it's happening here, but not by me! Please, not by me!"
By the time I got back, the water balloon had doubled in size. As I stood there in the door to our room I had a moment of clarity. In that moment chaos was replaced with calm. In that moment I recognized that we were not going to make it to the hospital. In that moment I realized that the paramedics were not going to make it in time. In that moment I knew I had to step up and make up for my earlier mistake. I had the horrible realization that I was going to have to deliver this baby.
Vikki was doing all she could to not push, but nature is a powerful force. It is the only force more powerful than a mother's will.
I got back up on the bed and examined the water balloon. I looked at the size and the edges. I ran my fingers over the bulbous emanation. I had no idea what it was I was looking at. And then, a still and small voice said, "Look though it, not at it." And so I did. And when I did I thought I saw hair. And for the first time I realized that this was the amniotic sac that had not yet been broken. When I finally realized that, my mind replayed a scene from my life that took place three years earlier, in a hospital room, when Brook was born. It played out in my mind like it was in HD.
Three years earlier: Our OBGYN is a funny guy. He walked in the room around 6:00 AM wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt. He had just come from swimming practice with one of his kids. He could tell Vikki was in a good mood and he sauntered over, checked her out and found her to be at 6 cm. He said with a big smile, "Give me a big push and let's get this little one out so I can get back to the pool." He was joking, but Vikki bared down, his face got serious and he said, "Stop pushing, you are crowning, I'll be right back." He raced out and was back in five minutes all gowned up and a big smile back on his face.
He called me over, said I really ought to know how to deliver a baby and then he taught me, step by step, how to deliver a normal baby with a normal presentation. We joked the whole time as we did it. Vikki was a little irritated with me since, you know, she was in labor and pain all that. But I actually paid attention to what the doc was telling me. I thought it was great at the time. Little did I realize just how important that lesson would be.
Now fast-forward three years back to the scene at hand.
Back with Vikki and little Kelly on the way I did everything he taught me three years earlier. I knew where my hands were supposed to be. I ran my fingers down underneath the amniotic sac until I could feel a little nose and chin. She was right there. Everything happened very quickly from that moment.
I used my finger to tear open the sac and gallons of the fluid rushed out all over the bed. Oddly enough I still had a sense of humor as I mused to myself, "Oooh. Yeah, now that's gonna leave a spot."
I continued to work. Using my hands and fingers the way the OBGYN had showed me only a few years earlier I pushed and pulled at the walls of the vaginal opening and birth canal. I could get my fingers up under Kelly's chin and feel the neck. I told Vikki to push and the head came out. Boom! There it was. One more push and she shot right out of there like a little canon ball. I caught her one-handed it happened so quickly. She let out a little irritated squeek as she took in her first breath of air. I laugh at myself now, but in that moment I was amused by how un-slippery she was. I bounced her little body up and down, left and right and she lay there pretty solid in my very wet hand. I would have thought all that mush would have been slippery, but it really isn't.
I wrapped her up in a bath towel and gave her to Vikki. Within minutes of that Engine 212 pulled up, along with an ambulance and three police cars. We had nine first responders in our home that night and the two older kids slept through the whole thing.
Me and Kelly the next day at the hospital. April 19th, 2002
Kelly's Apgar score was a 9. There are so many thing that could have gone wrong. What's worse is it could all have been avoided had I only stood my ground earlier in the evening. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. It didn't matter at the point. What mattered is I followed the spirit when given a second chance. Thank you, Father, for second chances.
I think Vikki must have forgiven me somewhere along the way. She had another child with me! And we made sure we stayed at the hospital for him!
Me and Kelly in less stressful times. October 2009
With that in mind, good night.
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