Four Years Ago Tonight....

Four years ago tonight Matt and I got in the car to head to Baptist Hospital of Miami. I had been timing my contractions all day. At my doctor's appointment that morning I was 4-5 cm dilated. My contractions had been 2-3 minutes apart for several hours. We decided to finally go to the hospital. I'm guessing it was around 7 pm. At the time I thought the contractions were getting harder. When I got checked in triage I was still 4-5 centimeters. The nurse told me to come back when I wasn't smiling.

(before leaving the house for the hospital)

Outside of the hospital there was a pond with a walking loop around it. We decided to walk around it to get things moving along. The contractions were starting to hurt a bit more. I remember I called my friend Monique to tell her that I had been sent away from the hospital. I hung up the phone. My water broke. Within minutes the contractions changed completely. They were so much more intense. We had only made it about one-quarter of the way around the walking loop when my water broke. It took at least an hour to finish the loop (although it wasn't that far) because I had to keep stopping between contractions. I was in a lot of pain and had decided that I definitely wanted an epidural....NOW. So I started running (as best I could) towards the hospital in between contractions. We finally made it. We had to take the elevator to the 2nd floor. I still wonder what the other people in the elevator were thinking about me--obviously 9 months pregnant, with khaki pants that were now wet with pink-tinged fluid, trying to mange my contractions in the elevator with them. We made it back to triage. It had been two hours since they turned me away and I was no longer smiling.

They checked me. I was 8 cm dilated. I thought, I don't need an epidural then--I'll progress quickly to 10 cm and have this baby. I think it's around 10pm at night. We were put into a labor and delivery room and I had to lie down to be hooked up to everything. That was horrible. My contractions slowed, but were still intense. I kept being asked if I wanted pitocin and I kept saying no. I endured that for about 2 hours. I was completely out of it. I was falling asleep between contractions and waking up screaming when they'd hit. The nurses told me I was scaring their other patients. I finally told them I wanted pitocin, but wanted an epidural first. I don't really remember Matt at all throughout that time. I don't remember the anesthesiologist coming in, or giving his spiel. I do remember sitting up and trying to sit very still while they put in the epidural. I vaguely remember the relief. I fell asleep.

The next thing I know the nurses are waking me up and telling me to push. I think it's around one in the morning. I was not in the mood. I had had a horrible night. I did not feel excited to meet my baby. I was NOT excited about the doctor, who wasn't my regular doctor, that was there to deliver my baby. I had met with him once for a prenatal visit when my doctor was unavailable. When I lifted my shirt at the appointment to be measured he said, "cute little belly" and then shot Matt a nervous look. We laughed about that a lot since then. So now he's my doctor. Only he didn't have anything nice to say that night. The first thing he said to me after coming into my labor and delivery room was, "Why did you wait so long to come in?" He seemed VERY annoyed at having to be there.

So now we're all in the room together. The nurses, the doctor, me and Matt. They put an oxygen mask on me. I hated it. I felt like I couldn't breathe through it. They told me to push. I tried my best. I couldn't feel anything of course. The doctor, I kid you not, rolled his eyes. In my mind he also made the tiniest of pshhh sounds, but I may have fabricated that in my memories. I do know he definitely rolled his eyes. Now it was final, that room was the last place I wanted to be. But for two hours I pushed for those people that were all yelling at me. A Jamaican nurse was in the corner cheering me on like I was a prizefighter. "Get angry, mama!" I kept trying to rip my oxygen mask off and they kept yelling at me to put it on. Eventually the doctor said he needed to use the vacuum. I could feel the moment that he gave me a hefty episiotomy. Not that I could feel him cutting, but I could feel the pressure release, and finally Jane's head came out. Only it was gray. Her body wasn't out yet but the doctor had to cut the umbilical cord that was twice wrapped around her neck. Then I pushed again and Jane came out to meet us. It was 2:58 a.m. on October 5, 2006.

(They made Matt pretend to cut the cord, even though it had already been cut. He was not excited, although posed very well for this picture.)

I could tell something was off in the room. First of all, there were like 20 people in there. I guess when a doctor has to use a vacuum or another tool like that a whole team of people have to be in the room. Everyone was busy doing something, assessing Jane I guess. The nurses acted like I should be happy, so I tried to be. They laid Jane on me. She made a squeaking noise when she breathed in. It worried me and I asked if everything was okay. They told me they needed to monitor her, but that everything was fine. After only a few minutes they took her away. She was put in the NICU. I got all cleaned up and tried to comprehend the reality of the after effects of labor, or at least the after effects of pushing for two hours. Let's just say, no one warned me that when you go to wipe after using the restroom you will essentially be wiping around your knees due to swelling.

Matt visited Jane in the NICU and came back to tell me how beautiful she was. He said he wouldn't mind if we had all girls. The nurses in the NICU would all comment on how beautiful she was. They would also ask if she was delivered via c-section because her head was perfectly round. It's surprising her head was round considering the 2-hours of pushing and the use of the vacuum. But, you know? That head didn't budge. And that head was over the 100th percentile on the head circumference charts. Oh, and she was posterior. No wonder I had the hardest time getting her out!

(our beautiful NICU baby)

Several hours after having Jane my phone rang. It was my dear friend Kate who was getting married the next day. She went on and on about the final wedding preparations and the stresses of her weekend. I enjoyed listening and being reminded that life for everyone else was just going along as usual. Then she finally asked, "What's new with you?" I said, "Well, I just had a baby." She couldn't believe it. I had to convince her I was telling the truth. I love that memory.

We knew her name was Jane from the beginning, but the NICU had her listed as "baby girl Jespersen". So each time we would call to be let into the NICU we would say, "We're here to see baby girl Jespersen." It was so sweet. She was so sweet. We walked those hallways between my recovery room and the NICU a lot. There was one hallway with some paintings I assume a high school art class did. One boy looked like his arm was bending in the wrong direction. Matt made a joke about it to me. I started laughing but laughing put too much pressure on my now-bowling ball sized area and I had to bend my head over towards my feet to laugh so as not to put pressure on the bowling ball. A family started walking by. I was laughing, not only at the picture, but at the scene of me bending over trying not to laugh. Then I started passing gas, something you are completely incapable of controlling post-delivery. That only made me laugh more, bent over of course. And that only made me pass more gas. The family walked by and we were alone in the hallway again.

(the painting)

Each time we went to visit Jane we had to wash our hands and arms for a full two minutes. Then we would put on hospital gowns. That is such a sweet memory to me. There was such an excitement and a sweetness to those two minutes as we anticipated seeing our new little daughter. I didn't bond with her instantly after birth, but with each visit she seemed more and more like the miracle that she was.

After two days I had to leave the hospital but Jane had to stay. She had very mild spontaneous pneumothorax which resolved itself quickly. But apparently when you are admitted into the NICU it is very difficult to get out. She had to pass numerous tests that I can only imagine most healthy infants can't pass. In the meantime I wasn't allowed to nurse her. I pumped and she was fed through a bottle. For three days I would drive back and forth to and from the hospital at the times that I was permitted to visit, and to drop off my milk. On day five, the day I ended up being able to take her home I was allowed to nurse her for the first time. I was so excited. She had a textbook latch-on and it was awesome.

My mom was visiting and she helped me bring Jane home from the hospital while Matt was at work. I didn't tell him the good news. He came home that night and Jane was in her crib sleeping. We chatted for a bit and then Jane made a noise. Matt's eyes lit up.

(Little did we know this sleeping image would be rare in the upcoming months)

The rest is history, I guess. Now we have one of the most amazing people in our family. It's been an awesome four years!