A Day Just Like Today

I am amazed at how similar today is to that day six years ago when Claire was born.  It is on this day, when we're awaiting the first day of all-day First Grade; when we're watching her read and write and paint and create; when we're seeing her outgrow clothes and shoes and baby toys and story books that I pause to reflect on how God brought her to us.  We are so thankful for Claire and the joy that she has brought to our lives.  Her unique blend of strong will, independence and a genuine sense of care and affection touch our hearts every day.  I am stunned by how much she looks like me and acts like me; yet at the same time stunned by her sense of unfamiliar beauty that has been a gift to us since June 3, 2003.

Six years ago today, I was sitting at my desk in our office.  It was like any other day, actually. The blazing sun was shining brightly.  It was a hot summer day, but for some reason we did not have the air conditioner on.   We were waiting for the rains to come and, I suppose, we were therefore hopeful that the ceiling fan and drawn curtains would keep our working space and its temperature comfortable.  

I had carried this baby for nine months; the usual amount of time.  Three of those months, however, had been through 120 degree heat.  In my 'ready to explode' state of mind and state of physical being, I longed for the pregnancy to be over.  However, I also longed for the heat to break, for the ominously dark clouds to roll in over the city.  It was the coolness of the monsoon I was hoping would arrive before the baby in my womb made his or her appearance.   If I had to endure one more day of this ridiculous summer heat I would go crazy.... and it would obviously make labor, delivery and recovery even more uncomfortable.  We prayed for rain.

However, there would be no more waiting.  This young lady inside of me had a mind of her own.  She came to us one week late.... or one week early... depending on whose 'due date' you chose to believe.   On that day six years ago, even though I longed for her to emerge, I still didn't want to believe she was coming quite yet, not at that moment.  So I sat at my desk writing reports, taking notes, making plans and sending emails.   

We had finished our lunch about an hour before the contractions started.  Although I didn't know they were contractions at the time.  Apparently my pregnancy hormones had affected my brain in such a way that it didn't even enter my brain that the pain that was coming every three minutes without fail was a signal that new life was about to emerge.  I wondered what medicine I could take for indigestion, hoping that I wasn't coming down with a stomach flu.  Some small trigger in my brain made me think to record the pains.  So I began writing down the occurrence and length of each painful episode, telling neither Kevin nor our friend Ben who were sitting less than 5 feet from me what was going on.  Silly woman.

When the pains started coming every 2 minutes after only about 20 minutes of tracking, I finally believed that I was in labor.  Duh. Pulling Kevin aside into the other room, we called the hospital to tell them we were coming and then I calmly took a shower.  Wouldn't want to give birth with dirty hair. 

Clean, dressed, packed and ready, we strolled into our home office and said in the most calm and non-panicked voice I could muster, "Hey Ben, we're gonna go have the baby now."

"What the..... ?" Ben replied in disbelief.  We all laughed, handed now-baby-sitter-Ben the diapers and 2-year old Clark, said "Good luck" and we were out the door.

The contractions dropped to one every minute during the 40 minute drive to the hospital. I tried to focus on some kind of Lamaze breathing to help take my mind off the pain which was becoming more excruciating with each impending contraction.   Clark had been born in the middle of the night, so there was no traffic when we made that journey 2 years earlier.  However, this time we tried to race through the city streets in the height of rush hour in the middle of the day in traffic that was so thick at times that we couldn't even walk through it.  I wondered in horror if I would be giving birth in our car.    Thankfully that didn't happen.

We meandered our way quickly up to the labor and delivery room where they skipped the check in process and moved me immediately into the room where all the action would happen.  My doctor, who had missed Clark's birth, stationed herself securely in my room, stating she was not leaving until she delivered this baby personally.  She was not going to miss this one.   

And it was a good thing she stayed.

Even though I was 8 centimeters dilated with contractions that were about a minute apart, I 'forced' them to give me the epidural.  After pumping me with drugs, I calmed down, but it was time to push our baby out.   In order to do that, my doctor had to break my water since that hadn't happened yet.  As she broke the waters, she noticed with concern that the baby had already passed the 'meconium stool' inside the womb which meant that we had only minutes to get the baby out.  The problem?  Although I was fully dilated and ready to go, the baby apparently had other ideas.  She was still too high to be pushed out quickly.  We pushed and pushed and pushed, but it wasn't working.  All this happened in the course of only 15 minutes.  

"I'm giving you 10 more minutes to push this baby out, and then we're doing a C-section", the doctor stated with concern.

Nothing like a challenge, eh?

Mustering all my might, and focusing with intensity at the cross and the clock on the wall directly in my line of sight, I pushed and pushed some more. But still not far enough.  The baby had to come out, and it had to come out now.  

Seeing my aversion to a C-section at this point, the doctor began rustling through the instruments at her disposal in the trays surrounding the delivery bed.  She reached for forceps and said she was going to 'help' the baby out. 

Terrified, I began hyperventilating and crying and the nurses threw an oxygen mask on my face. It was obvious to them (and to me) that everyone in the room thought I was being unreasonable and over-emotional.  Yeah.  Right.  Unfortunately, the strap on the oxygen mask was not tight and it kept falling off my face.  I was shouting at the nurses and Kevin, pleading with them to remove the mask because it was irritating me.  No one was listening.  

"Tell me what's going on," I begged as the green plastic mask hovered somewhere over my nose, mouth, chin, forehead... whatever. No one responded.  They were concentrating on what the doctor was doing.  The look on her face told the story.  She had to hurry.

Distracted by the uncooperative mask, I didn't fully realize what was going on, but the doctor 'helped' the baby out.... using forceps.... and the full weight of her body, arm muscles shaking with strength and determination... thereby creating the 5 most painful and uncertain minutes of my life.   But sweet and beautiful minutes that allowed us to see for the first time our beautiful, smiling baby girl.   Hello, Claire!

Not being one to lovingly embrace a baby covered in blood and amniotic fluid, I told them I would hold the baby later.  Shocked, but cooperative (finally), the medical staff whisked Claire away to be cleaned and measured and weighed.  There was no one else in the delivery room at that moment and so it was delightfully quiet and calm after that intense half hour of trauma.  We waited for what seemed like a long time. We talked and laughed about the silly oxygen mask fiasco.  Kevin called Ben to let him know we were OK and that Clark had a little sister.

After what seemed like hours, they brought Claire to us to eat.  She was perfect despite the bruising on her head from the forceps which they assured me would go away (... it did... and quickly...).  We were so happy.  And we were so ready to head to our own, private room for some much needed rest and relaxation now that the 'hard part' was finished.

To our dismay, however, the nurse came in and told us that our air-conditioned room was not available since overnight there had been many babies born and the hospital was packed with recovering women and newborn infants.  There was a private, non-air-conditioned room, however, and she took us there.  We tried to keep our spirits up, but knew we were in for a long night.  

We looked at Claire curiously... she looked different than Clark had looked when he was a newborn.  Then we realized what it was.  The heat that consumed the hospital, the mugginess that was preceding the monsoon had overwhelmed everything.  And it overwhelmed baby Claire whose skin was bright red and nearly dripping with sweat.  We removed the layers of blankets in which she was wrapped and kept only her diaper and a thin sheet on her.  So opposite, we thought, to the norm.  No blue, cold baby swaddled up waiting for her body temperature to regulate itself.  This was unusual indeed.

At first, the heat of the hospital room wasn't so bad, but when we tried to sleep that night, the discomfort was unbearable.  Thankfully, Claire slept a long time after her trip through the birth canal had apparently exhausted her.  We, however, struggled all night long soaking towels in the coolest water we could find and laying it on our perspiring skin, longing for relief.  The ceiling fan and the 'swamp cooler' they gave us did nothing to break the summer's vengeance which had been unleashed on our room.   I was in pain, too, trying to recover from the forceps delivery.  There as no sleep.  There was no rest.  Only endless hours of frustrated but gentle tossing and turning, willing sleep to descend.

Finally, as morning broke, shining its dim light through our one window, we hoped for good news of an air conditioned room opening up for our use.  Kevin went out to make more phone calls to inform family and friends of the joy of Claire's birth.  While he was gone, when my breakfast tray came, filled with vegetarian Indian delights that I scarfed down into my exhausted, hungry body, the nurse came with good news.  We could move in just a couple of hours.

Later that day, the air conditioned comfort of our new room was delightful.  It made all things better.  Clark and Ben came for a visit.  I remember Clark looking so big and unfamiliar compared to his baby sister.  He wanted to see her, touch her, kiss her.  So curious, yet still so gentle and unsure.  We were a family of four - the 'perfect family' some of our local friends told us.  We were thrilled that Claire was the newest Kadwell and thankful for God's rich provision in our lives. 

Happy Birthday Claire!  I can't believe you're six years old.

~lk