Sometimes

Sometimes God grants miracles we never see. Sometimes God grants miracles we refuse to see. Sometimes God grants miracles we are too busy to see. Sometimes, all the philosophy of the world doesn't matter. And sometimes, we see.

Bonnie has been having surges (that's the hypno-birthing word for contractions) for months. You know, the ones called "Braxton Hicks" after some man who "discovered" what women had been experiencing through, oh, six millennia or so. We men are good at thinking we're smart like that sometimes.

On Monday, December 30th, Bonnie had her regular midwife appointment. She was officially 40 weeks and one day. The midwife reported a cervix opened to four and a half centimeters and 90% effaced. She also told Bonnie to come in right away if her water breaks. Evidently her large amniotic sac could give chance for the umbilical cord to float down and become prolapsed, i.e. get stuck in front of the labor path and cut off blood supply to baby during labor. As you could imagine, that would bring with it many potential undesirable consequences.

Having a regular bout of good surges that evening, and feeling a bit more antsy after that appointment, she decided we best go in and see if she were not in labor. When we checked in she was still at 4.5. (I don't think getting that check is ever fun for any woman, but when the cervix is posterior, it makes it particularly unpleasant.) Over the next hour we chatted about perhaps asking to have her water broken should she not be progressing, but we made no decision. Result of an hour of occasional surging: still at 4.5.

Thankfully they didn't kick us out right away; they let her get up and we walked around for the better part of another hour and again we considered having her water broken. Result of another hour: still at 4.5.

The nurse asked if we wanted another hour or if we wanted to go home. Without a second thought, Bonnie mentioned we had talked about having her water broken but said we didn't want to, that we just wanted to go home. I hadn't realized, but the second hour was nice for Bonnie as it gave her time to mentally accept, without disappointment, that we would be going home. To be honest, I was grateful. Bonnie and I had been both been feeling sick and my energy was quite low. Waiting a few days would hopefully help.

Wednesday night, January 1st, Bonnie and I said good night luck. Bonnie commented as I was drifting off that her foot itched on the bottom, on that spot where you can't scratch because if you do it tickles. We had our regular night's events -- waking up with a kid once or twice, blowing our own sick noses once or twice, Bonnie waking up for a couple hours before being able to go back to sleep, etc.

When Bonnie awoke around four a.m., her hands and feet were verociously itchy. Online professed home remedies of cream, lemon oil, and aloe vera were all applied which made it bearable, upon which she realized... it wasn't just her hands and feet. She was itchy. All over.

I like to imagine at that point she started the itchy-everywhere dance, but I don't really know because I was ignorantly slumbering. She must have managed to control the dance to some degree though because she had done some research on her symptoms while she was awake.

I awoke around 6am to notice no Bonnie in bed. I wasn't much surprised; this was normal by now. I took a long hot shower to try to help my sinus pain that had developed in my left sinus over the past day and a half. It helped, a little.

When I got out, Bonnie was sleeping in bed, so I put my PJs back on and went out to lay on the living room couch. I had heard the girls chatting out there, so I figured if I was out there, they'd more likely let Mommy sleep a bit more. We take turns pretty good on that. I think it's called survival instincts.

I was surprised after a bit of laying on the couch to see our nephew James walk into the living room. I had no idea he had spent the night as I remembered his family all leaving. It turns out that Papa was taking he, Amy, and Noel on the train to his other aunt's house. Who knew?!

I don't really remember when Bonnie told me about her symptoms and what they meant. It might have been when she came out of our room around eight, or it might have been after I had gone back to bed and re-emerged around 9:30, finally relinquishing my hope of still going to work. Either way, she didn't tell me up front that her symptoms were a match with obstetric cholestasis. It was more like obstetric cho-chloe-cholesti-something-sisiss-is-mississippi-is. Or maybe that's just what I heard.

She said that itchy everywhere, especially hands and feet, with no rash, were pretty exclusive symptoms. She also said that it's not something you just let slide, but that often women are induced at 37 weeks if they have these symptoms prior thereto. A little before 10am, Bonnie set an appointment with the midwife for 10:45, now Thursday, January 2nd.

During all of this, of course, was the process of getting our girls ready to go. To our surprise, shortly before Papa and kiddos left, we found Grammy volunteering to go and take Eliza on the train with Papa and the others. Due to some tantrum throwing, Eliza barely made it off!

Bonnie started gathering our hospital bag and without thinking much I began to move along with her. Then my tired, sickie, and frankly lazy self got a hold of me. I didn't want to pack this hud if we were just going to come home again. I didn't want to finagle it all in the truck cab and drive the 15 minutes to American Fork all scrunched up.

I'll admit it. I complained. I tried to do it in a way that didn't sound complain-y, but really that's what I was doing. I tried to persuade her that I could just come back for stuff if we really needed it, but appropriately she judged my reasoning as ridiculous. So, we packed up and headed off.

We were about 15 minutes late, but it wasn't a big deal it seems. Shortly we were with the midwife, Jen, and she confirmed the obstetric cholestasis probability. She told us a few things.
1) We could do some lab tests, but it would take three or four days to get the results back.
2) The symptoms were pretty specific to obstetric cholestasis.
3) Induction is recommended as early as 37 weeks in such cases. (Bonnie was already 40 days and 40 nights weeks and four days.)

Bonnie said she was open to being induced, preferably by her water being broken rather than by using pitocin, if possible (we're going for an un-medicated birth). That, of course, was fine, so Jen asked if we wanted to do it today or make an appointment for tomorrow or... ? What was our preference?

I told her we had all the stuff packed just in case. (Since it was my idea and all; I told you we men were smart like that.) So she told us to head on over and she'd be there in an hour or so after we got checked in. The two blocks to the hospital built anticipation more than the previous couple hours. We'd never tried an un-medicated birth before, and Bonnie suddenly was feeling some nerves.

We arrived, signed the paper work, and got checked in. Our nurse arrived and started setting things up - the monitors, an i.v., an antibiotic for group-b strep (not the same as strep throat), and so forth. She was a delight of a lady and we chatted about hopes and intentions for the birth and so on. As a part of the conversation she commented on Bonnie being at 4.5cm and was surprised to hear that this was three-day old data. She shortly transitioned over to checking what progression, if any, had occurred over the last few days. She told us Bonnie was now easily a 5-plus!

She also said that, while she felt the head, she also felt something soft just at the edge. Gratefully, the cervix was no longer posterior so the double and triple-checks of the nurse, while not pleasant, were less painful than a few days previous. She told us she hoped it wasn't a cord, and since the baby's heart was monitored and doing well, she wasn't so sure, but it didn't feel bony like a hand up over his head either.

She called Jen to come over more quickly and check for herself. Soon Jen confirmed the nurse's assessment that it was the cord. She said that breaking the water right now would mean emergency c-section, but talked to us about the possibility of using pitocin to get labor going, in hopes that the cord could get pushed aside by the surges. However, she was going to call her back up physician to discuss the state of things.

A quick aside for the ignorant-like-me: an emergency c-section is not the same as a non-emergency c-section. When the water breaks, if the cord is kinked or clamped off and blood isn't flowing through it, the baby has potential for brain damage within 4 minutes. So they have 4 minutes to get you wheeled into OR (that would be Operating Room, not the logical operator similar to AND or NOT), put you to sleep, cut you open, and get the baby out. Precision is important, but speed is more important.

After she called the physician, she came back in and said "Well, you're not going to like this." He wanted to go straight ahead with the c-section and he was coming over immediately to talk to us. Before he arrived, she mentioned to us that the bag was pretty bulgy, meaning it wouldn't take much at this point for Bonnie's water to break. Jen also mentioned that her c-section rate was among the lowest even among the mid-wives. She hates having to recommend it, but they didn't want to risk going into an emergency situation.

Dr. Wall showed up (I still don't know the man's first name) and reiterated mostly the same things with his own perspective on it.

Now I relate to you some things in my own psychology. I can't do this for Bonnie because, well, I don't live in her head. I mean, I hope I do, but... well you get it. And yes, I'm a sap.

One of the things I most appreciated from Dr. Wall was him saying "You know, it's a free country. You don't have to sign the authorization for us to do a c-section." That, along with seeing Jen and knowing she didn't love it but felt like it was right, was enough for me. I was ready to support whatever Bonnie chose, but I personally was sold on the idea that doing it would be best for Benjamin. Bonnie afterword told me that she felt so glad she had Jen, that with her recommending it, she didn't feel like this could be any concern about a doctor wanting to cover his legal behind, make an extra buck, or just hurry things along.

We asked some questions about how certain things would go, such as skin to skin possibilities (pretty much none), what would happen with the baby, and do I have to watch anything (I'm a mite queasy when it comes to surgery-type stuff).

We decided to go forward. We signed the form, the anesthesiologist (arrived in the room with Dr. Wall) headed out to get things ready, they disconnected Bonnie's monitors and got her bed wheeling out of the room, I was given a bag of sterile clothes to put over my clothes to wear in the OR, and out Bonnie went. I waited for someone to come get me until after they had the spinal in. I think that's normal procedure, but maybe it was just for me. I had already told them that the one part I had to step out for during previous births was the epidural placement.

I got my sterile clothes on, washed my hands, and it wasn't but a few minutes that the nurse came and got me to bring me in.

When I walked in, they were going and I heard someone say "her water broke, so we just got started." As I learned later, her water broke on its own, in the OR, with the spinal anesthesia already in place. Within 10 seconds or so of my entrance, we heard our baby crying.

The staff all did their part in praising our baby immediately and loudly. "Oh wow, he's a chunk! Oooh, he's a handsome boy!" etc. etc. Which of course you're glad to hear as a parent, not so much for the compliments as for the "my son is really here" impact.

As I sat by Bonnie's head and we heard our baby cry, we both smiled and cried a bit. As soon as Bonnie was ready, I went over and was with Benjamin. It was a feat to get my camera out because the sterile clothes covered my pockets entirely! I took a couple pictures and brought them back to Bonnie to see. She smiled, cried a bit more, and she asked me to go be with and touch Benjamin as much as possible, which I did.

As soon as the basics were taken care of, weighing in at 8 lbs 10 oz and 19" long, we wrapped him up and I took him over the other side of the curtain to see Mom. We both cried this time.

After Bonnie was done being sewn up, I pushed Benjamin while her bed was wheeled back to the original birthing room. Benjamin got to nurse a bit and, after a time, Jen came back. She commented on our course of events and somewhat reverently used the word "amazing." She said when they opened Bonnie up, they found the cord not only over (or rather, under) the top of his head, but also wrapped around it.

Bonnie has always cried at the birth of our children; I now cry sometimes. It's now two o'clock on Saturday; Benjamin is almost 49 hours old. I've cried a five or six times since the OR.

Sometimes God grants miracles we never see. Sometimes God grants miracles we refuse to see. Sometimes God grants miracles we are too busy to see. Sometimes, all the philosophy of the world doesn't matter. And sometimes, we see.