The Birth of Kyle

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Kyle was long-awaited. It wasn’t because we had a hard time getting pregnant;
but because we waited for several years before we fully decided
that we wanted to add another child to our family. So we decided
to have another baby, got pregnant, and lost that baby. Due to some
other circumstances in our lives, we didn’t try to get pregnant right
away. Once pregnant, I had a fairly easy pregnancy; although at 33, it wasn’t as easy
as it was at 27 with Amanda. Kyle kept us on our toes even before
his birth. At 35 weeks, I was 3 centimeters dilated, making me uncertain
about how or when he was going to come. By 37 weeks, I was 4
centimeters dilated; and he was born at 38 weeks, just like his sister.

I
was at my friend Richele’s house. Our girls were having a playdate, and
we were having lunch. We were sitting and chatting, when my water broke. I
stood up and told Richele what happened. She was excited to be a part
of the big day, but then she said, "Jen, there’s some blood." In fact,
there was a good deal of fluid and blood. I went to the bathroom, and
changed into some of her maternity panties that she still had on hand
from her recent pregnancy. She offered to call Terry, and told him to
meet us at the hospital. I wrapped a towel around my waist and drove my
car the half mile to my house so that I could grab my hospital bag and
change into a new pair of shorts while Richele loaded up her infant and
our two girls into her car and came to get me.

On
the way to the hospital, she suggested that I call my doctor. Since the
doctor’s office is right across the hall from maternity at
the hospital, they don’t really require a call because the nurses will
alert them. Richele said that I should just call them and let them know
that my water broke and that there was some blood, so I did. I also
called a friend and told her we were on our way and asked her to pray.
I was feeling okay at this point, but was having some contractions in my
back. As we neared the hospital, Richele asked if I wanted her to park
and help me in. I knew that getting her infant in, and keeping
track of our rambunctious 5-year-old daughters would be enough for her
to manage without trying to "help" me. So I told her to drop me at the
front door, and I would go up while she parked and unloaded. I walked
the short distance to the elevator and took it to the 2nd floor. The
nurse was a little incredulous at this whole scene. She had my file
ready and took me to the examination/labor room. She was a little
concerned about the amount of blood there was. The doctor came
quickly from across the hall and was evaluating me and Kyle. I was 7 cm
dilated. He asked me if I was having contractions, and I said that my
back sort of hurt, but that was it. I was apparently in full labor.

He
was going over the options when Terry arrived. He said that the baby
seemed to be doing okay, but we had to keep an eye on things. If my
labor continued to progress quickly, and the baby didn’t seem to be in
distress, then I could probably deliver naturally. If he became
distressed, then we’d have to do a C-section right away. I don’t think
that the doctor ever left my side, and when Kyle’s heartbeat shot up,
he gave the order to do a C-section "Now!" I was put under general
anesthesia because it was the fastest, and wheeled out of the room.
Terry had to wait until after the baby was born, because I was under
general and they didn’t allow others in the room in this situation.

Poor
Terry will never forget the site of me with my guts out, and his first
sight of his new son, blue from lack of oxygen. Kyle had to be
resuscitated, but did not suffer any damage due to the lack of oxygen. He
was born just in time. While I was coming out from the anesthesia, the
doctor filled Terry in on all that had happened. Apparently my
placenta had torn away from the uterine wall, compromising oxygen flow
to the baby. The doctor said that a matter of minutes could have meant
a tragic difference in results. I am thankful for so many things about
that day: the doctor’s wisdom in how to proceed and skill in getting
Kyle out quickly, the fact that the hospital was less than twenty
minutes from our home, the fact that I was already at a good friend’s
home and didn’t have to think about who to call and what to do with
Amanda, the fact that it was during the daytime while the doctors were
all in their offices across the hall, and not in the middle of the
night when one would have had to be paged to come in.

I
woke up with my sweet, slightly shaken husband leaning over me,
looking lovingly into my eyes, and holding my hand. I was not able to
see Kyle right away, because he was hooked up to fluids and they wanted to
monitor him in the nursery for 24 hours. Because I had just had a
C-section, and was hooked up to some fluids of my own, I was confined to bed.
When there was a shift change in the infant nursery, a woman I will
always remember came in and said, "I heard that you haven’t been able
to see your baby yet; is that true?" I said that it was, and she said,
"Let me go get him, but we have to be quick before the doctor checks
back in." So, six or eight hours after he was born, I got to hold my
newest little miracle.

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I don’t know if he’s so dear to me
because he’s my last child, or my first boy, or so sweet-tempered
(unless he’s just being ill-tempered, but he’s definitely one or the
other). It might have something to do with the fact that a matter of
minutes could have changed his fate, and ours. But we love him. . . a
lot.

Jennifer, a SAHM, blogs at Snapshot about
her faith and her family (including Kyle’s big sister Amanda). She
posts daily about her interests, which include reading, family life,
scripture study and application and blogging–lots of blogging. http://www.jennifersnapshot.blogspot.com/

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