A Birth Story

Last week, we had a birthday! I can think of little else, so let me tell you all about it. No, it wasn’t the 245th birthday of our nation, which was notable. It was our 20th grandbaby. 

And this is certainly not the only way this story can be told, but it’s how my life intersected with the others who were involved.

I had been telling everybody that we had two weddings coming up in May and two babies in July. My dad came up for Father’s Day and asked when Vivi was due. He told me he was rooting for July 9 because that was his birthday, but when I passed that on, Vivi didn’t think it was possible to schedule that for him. “Baby will come when baby’s ready!” she said. I was pretty sure that was a direct quote from a midwife.

They had it all worked out, and I was pleased with their arrangements. Vivi and Andrew had made reservations at a birthing center in Michigan, not far from their home near the state line in Indiana. Competent midwives practiced there, under the care of a doctor, and she was getting great advice for this, her first birth. I couldn’t be there for her day-to-day questions about what was happening to her body, or to give her advice, but she knew what to do. Yes, she might hurt her back if she moved wrong, but you learn quickly about your limitations when you’re pregnant, and it will all come back next time.

One day, she messaged me, “Mom, you are going to come up and be there for my birth, aren’t you?” She couldn’t see the broad smile on my face, but I immediately messaged her back, “I sure am! I was just waiting for you to ask! I would dearly love to.” And I knew that whatever was happening in early July was only tentative for me. I would drop everything for the opportunity to travel to Michigan and be a support person for my baby daughter’s birth.

Still, I was unprepared when on June 29, just before midnight, Andrew texted me that Vivi’s water had broken. We’d gone to bed before that, and he was unable to get through to us since my phone was on mute and we don’t hear any phones downstairs while we’re sleeping upstairs. I only woke up around 5:30 because there was a bug crawling on my head and I threw him. We turned on the lights to find him and see if he was dangerous. Then, I glanced at my phone to see what time it was, and I found Andrew’s message.

So now it was Wednesday, June 30, and I messaged him back: “Are you sleeping?” (Great question to ask a sleeping person!) 

“Yes,” came the reply. “Her contractions haven’t started, so we were told to try to get some sleep.”

I couldn’t go back to sleep easily with a possible birth on my mind. Gotta do payroll, gotta pack clothes – how long will I stay? Good thing I got an antibiotic and I’m feeling better now – last week I couldn’t have done this, I was so sick from that sinus infection. Remember the antibiotic!! Bring all those supplements, and my other meds. Might as well pack some Nutrisystem meals that keep well. Don’t forget these other work details … I may need to drink a lot of coffee!

Shortly after I finally did drop back off to sleep, Siri woke us up at 7. Eric’s pastor prayer breakfast. Okay, end of night, time for getting ready for the day!

I was in and out of the office, just trying to keep up with the most pressing things, starting with payroll. But when the notion hit me, I would leave and pack some things. Vegetables? Almond milk? What about them? My toothbrush? Hmmm … better wait. Vivi gave me addresses to plug into the GPS: her house, and also the birthing center.

I told Eric he would have to go to church without me. I needed to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. The only way we could do that would be for him to use the car that’s near death. Could he get to Lafayette? Would he be able to get back home?

Vivi visited the midwife at the birthing center and found out there was a problem: no contractions. Babies can’t do well without that amniotic fluid for very long – certainly not longer than a day. After the water breaks, there’s a risk of infection. So, first it was recommended that Andrew and Vivi go home and try to start those contractions with castor oil. But when that really didn’t work, it was further recommended that she go to the hospital, where they could start up contractions with Pitocin. Though it was understandably disappointing that she wouldn’t be giving birth at the birthing center, for the baby’s sake, she needed to make sure she was born soon.

Then I got a call from Vivi to update me on all this, along with one bit of important news. “Mom?” she said, “I need to tell you that I’ll be going to the hospital now, and they will probably be limiting the number of people in the room to two. So, Andrew and I talked it over, and because his mom is a nurse, we thought she would be the best one to be there besides Andrew. She can interpret what’s going on so we can make good decisions. So it looks like you won’t be able to come. Is that okay with you?”

I could hear the sadness in her voice, and I fought down the lump in my throat. I had tried so hard to be positive about everything, choosing not to bring up her sisters’ recent difficult births, telling absolutely no horror stories – everybody’s got ‘em – and keeping my cool. But this was really hard – the so-called “Covid rules.” I was horribly disappointed but said, “Yes, I understand, it’s just what you’ve gotta do these days. I can just stay here and be the prayer team coordinator or something … “

Okay, so don’t pack the fresh veggies, but it’s not terrible that my clothes are packed and those Nutrisystem meals are in the little cooler. I still wanted Eric to go to church without me. Somehow, I needed to be here … just in case. 

But then after he left, at about 7:00, I got another call. “Mom! We called and talked to somebody at the hospital so we could know for sure about their rules, and they said it would be all right if you and Andrew’s mom want to take turns being in the labor room!”

“I’m on my way!” 

I programmed “Ft. Wayne Dupont Hospital” into the GPS, and sent one quick text to Eric: “I’m going to Ft. Wayne!!” After setting up “The Chosen” livestream on the Roku for Eric for when he got back, I remembered my toothbrush, my pillow, my GPS, my phone AND the charger, and my heavier sweater for cold hospitals. I decided against any perishables. And I had no idea how long I would stay or what my plans were other than, “Go now.” Approaching Ft. Wayne, I remembered that I had forgotten my other toiletries – but at least I had my toothbrush!

Upon arrival, Andrew led the way to the labor room, where, just before I arrived at about 10:00, the staff had just started Vivi on fluids and a low dose of Pitocin through the I.V. in her hand. She had felt a few small contractions and started the evening by eating some spicy dried meat sticks of some kind, and tiny goldfish cheese crackers. I was already impressed that the hospital hadn’t forbidden any food. They usually will say no food after labor starts because Mom might get nauseous, but Mom needs energy to do the hard work ahead of her.

But as I came in, Andrew’s mom was still sitting there, and was just getting ready to exit, when the night nurse came in and explained that there were only supposed to be two people in the room. Vivi and Andrew said they had talked to someone who said it would be okay if we took turns, but she said hospital policy was that it was always supposed to be the same two people. Uh-oh. So she went to double check on this case, and glory be! When she came back, she said, “It’s okay, you can stay, and you can both be in here the whole time. We’ll just ‘go big!’” Hurray!!!

Vivi and Andrew informed us that even though they had had no gender reveal and wanted to tell everybody after the birth, they knew it was a girl and they figured their helpers should also know. I was totally wrong and lost the baby pool I’d helped set up, but that was fine.

Now, everyone was expecting Vivi to get some sleep. I wasn’t so sure of that. Pitocin causes some pretty difficult contractions, and Vivi had no bag of waters to cushion the blow (like bubble wrap!). But she tried to relax, and one by one, others, who were used to sleeping during periods of darkness, drifted off to sleep. Vivi had contractions to manage, about 4 minutes apart, but she was calm and quiet, probably trying not to wake the others. 

We onlookers also glanced over at the monitor from time to time, which drew little hills or jagged peaks as the contractions ebbed and flowed. I remembered previous births, where the mom would be working very hard through a contraction, but the onlookers were unimpressed because the hill the monitor drew was just not that big. The doula in the room told us, “Don’t judge a contraction by that monitor. Mom knows what she’s feeling.” 

So I watched her. And then things started looking a little tougher. She was making some noise now, some light groaning. I didn’t say anything, but the Mom instinct kicked in, and I jumped up to take a position next to her. Everything I’d learned from all those previous births was available to me, and right now, the thing to do was to stroke her leg. Down, down, in the direction of her foot. Others looked up and noticed the taller peaks. And they wanted to help too. Andrew held her hand at first and was great at back pressure. His mom was actually very good at interpreting signals the nurses were giving each other. We fetched and carried, offered cool washcloths for her forehead, and offered encouraging words when we could.

Sometimes, nurses requested that Vivi flip over to her other side because of what they had seen on the baby’s part during a contraction. Vivi tried a couple of different birthing positions – on hands and knees, or “dancing” with Andrew – but she said in the end, she was more comfortable just staying on her side. I understood that entirely. In my experience, the best thing was to let me stay on my side and work through the labor by myself. I really disliked people blowing on my face during a contraction. I knew what to do and what my body was doing better than anyone else.

But there was an unmistakable signal she gave, and that was when she said, despairingly, “OH NO! Here comes another one, already!!” Glancing at the monitor, I noticed only a tiny dip between long, hard contractions. The transition phase! And she complained about pain lower down.

“I can do ALL THINGS through Christ … “ I heard my strong daughter saying. I knew what it took for her to say that, and it gave me a reminder that I needed to encourage her as well. More than ever, she needed to hear how she could do it! That God was giving her strength. That the baby was almost there and would be just as beautiful as she was. I reminded her how my midwife had told me, when Vivi was born, that she was “dangerously cute.” That was her middle name, “Belle,” coming true as though prophetically.

I told the rest of my crew that the two hard back-to-back contractions were an important sign, and she should be checked. The nurse came in when summoned and asked kindly, “Do you feel like you have to push, hon?” Well no, she didn’t have to push. But did she really want to wait till then? “If you want me to, I’ll check you.”

“I don’t know … “ Vivi said, unable to really get a handle on what she wanted. So I told the nurse yes, she should be checked. And, as I expected, she was fully dilated. The nurse said, “Okay, I’ll come in and check her in about an hour.” An hour? Really?

About then, Vivi told us, “I don’t think I can do this! I didn’t think I’d ever want an epidural, but now … This is harder than I ever imagined it could be!“

“Vivi,” I said, looking deep into her eyes, “Did you hear what the nurse said? You are almost done. You’re fully dilated! This is not the time to get an epidural!”

“Well, do they have something like … laughing gas?”

“Nitrous oxide?” the nurse asked. “Yes, of course! You want that?”

“Yes, please!” And they brought her a little machine with a clear mask. 

I recalled how, a long time ago when David was a toddler, he had to have work done on several small cavities in his baby teeth. The dentist used nitrous oxide then too, and David chose the purple mask, the “grape nose.” We had kept that grape nose as a souvenir and a toy, for a pretty long time.

“Nitrous oxide,” the nurse explained, “doesn’t affect Baby and it doesn’t last long. It just takes the edge off the pain.” They tried putting that mask over her face during a contraction, but Vivi wanted to deal with the contraction and then put it on. In the end, she was done with the laughing gas within a few contractions. She needed to breathe oxygen.

Suddenly, “I HAVE to PUSH!!” It had only been a half-hour since I had identified transition.

And then we had to find that nurse again, who checked to be sure everything was out of the way so Baby could get through, then find Rachel, and gather up the equipment and supplies. I had had a feeling that waiting an hour wasn’t going to happen!

And then, it was time. Briefly during that pushing stage, I would recall being there for her two sisters, who pushed for hours and then had emergency C-sections. I also know there’s a greater risk of a C-section in a hospital with a Pitocin-induced labor. My encouraging calls of “You can do it!” rang a little hollow in my own ears. Oh God, let this one work, I breathed.

Rachel was competent, but I kept my eye on her expressions. While she was generally cheery and fun, she and her helpers talked in hushed tones about “a little meconium,” and “earlier” and “later,” which Andrew’s mom translated for us. Meconium is a bowel movement, which would be very bad for a baby because it could be inhaled and get into her lungs. “Earlier” and “later'' were referring to when there was a dip in Baby’s heartrate, in conjunction with a contraction. One was good, and the other was bad. They were looking for signs of stress in the baby.

It wasn’t long before Vivi’s pushing, which was great and effective since she had had no pain-deadening drugs, had moved the baby down the canal to where Rachel said, “Baby’s head is just … right there. Do you want to feel it?”

Vivi didn’t answer that, so I just said, “Do you have a mirror?” And they did – a nice big one! She was thrilled to see that baby head! “Vivi,” I said, “do you want to feel her head?” She wasn’t sure, and she scrunched up her nose. “Vivi. Go ahead. You should feel your baby’s head!” And when the nurses pulled her hand over towards the bulge that was “right there,” she gave a squeal of delight. All evening when she had been asked, “Do you want to do this,” or “Do you want to do that,” she had only replied, “I just want to get this baby out!” Now was the time. It was happening.

Baby’s head began to approach the opening with each series of three pushes whenever Vivi had another contraction, but then it would pull back in between them. Once, when the head was halfway out, the contraction was over, and Vivi had to stop. “This head should be out with the next push,” Rachel said, but it took two more. She also had to stuff the baby girl’s hands back in, because she was trying to come out with both hands alongside her face. “I do that, too,” Vivi said, recognizing a personality trait in the baby before she was even born.

With the second contraction, Baby Girl’s head finally came out, her body was expertly turned, and she came all the way out, bright-eyed and alert, and covered with “cheesy” vernix, a baby’s waterproofing lotion. Crying on cue, she was placed atop her mother for comforting and bonding skin-to-skin contact. She was born at 4:22 on July 1, about 6 hours or so after the first contraction. Pushing lasted only about 45 minutes. She was 6 lbs. 12 oz.

“Vivi, do you guys have a name for Baby yet?” I asked.

“Yes,” and looking over at Andrew, she told us. “It’s Adaline Barbara.” At this, Andrew’s mom burst into tears. She knew Barbara was named after her own mother who had died of cancer. Andrew and Vivi had wanted to do this as a memorial to a beloved family member for a long time, and this little baby, Andrew’s mom’s first grandbaby, was privileged to bear the name.

I could go on about postpartum things, but I’ll just summarize a few important items, or at least those important to me.

Andrew’s mom left Thursday morning. She had a shorter drive than I did and thought she could make it home okay after being up all night. I stayed at the hospital, spending Addy’s birthday helping her convalescing mother and taking a trip to Wal-Mart later to find a car seat, since those things expire so quickly. By Friday morning, Eric was missing me too much, and so was the business. He said my email was overflowing, so about 6:30, I hauled the car seat up the two flights of steps to get in a little exercise, and then I read Vivi and Andrew a psalm out of my Tree of Life version Bible – Psalm 139. Here it is, and I’ll stick my devotional comments in there, too:

1 For the music director: a psalm of David.

ADONAI, You searched me and know me.

2 Whenever I sit down or stand up, You know it. 

“He knows whether you’re propped up on pillows or trying to stand up, or asleep on the futon.”

You discern my thinking from afar.

“He doesn’t even have to be close to know everything we’re thinking.”

3 You observe my journeying and my resting 

“He knows how I traveled here, and He knows that I spent the night in the van!”

and You are familiar with all my ways.

4 Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, ADONAI, You know all about it.

“He isn’t wondering what we’re going to say. He knows even before the word is on the tip of our tongues!”

5 You hemmed me in behind and before, and laid Your hand upon me.

“This is like where you’re reading in Job, Vivi – Satan accused God of being overprotective of Job. David knew the same degree of protection. We have that, too!”

6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

7 Where can I go from Your Ruach? Where can I flee from Your presence?

“Ruach – God’s Spirit. No, we can’t run away from God.”

8 If I go up to heaven, You are there, and if I make my bed in Sheol, look, You are there, too.

“The farthest extremes possible – He’s still with us.”

9 If I take the wings of the dawn and settle on the other side of the sea,

10 even there Your hand will lead me, and Your right hand will lay hold of me.

“The first person who saw and loved the baby picture I texted to our praying friends at 4:30 in the morning was a major’s wife, stationed with her family in Germany. God is with you here and with her there, too. Wherever we are, He is with us.”

11 If I say: “Surely darkness covers me, night keeps light at a distance from me,” 

12 even darkness is not dark for You, 

  and night is as bright as day – darkness and light are alike.

This is where I sang a Michael Card lullaby that I’ve always loved, and which Lisa and Emily danced to when they were in 4-H: “Even the Darkness is Light to Him.”

13 For You have created my conscience. You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

14 I praise You, for I am awesomely, wonderfully made! Wonderful are your works – and my soul knows that very well.

“And that goes for Addy, for Vivian, for me, and for Andrew. All of us are awesomely, wonderfully made by the hand of God Himself, and none of us are inferior to the others. God didn’t make any mistakes.”

15 My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

“God knew Addy before you did, while she was under construction.”

16 Your eyes saw me when I was unformed, 

“God saw Addy when there was nothing to see.”

and in Your book were written 

the days that were formed – when not one of them had come to be.

“And God knows Addy’s history -- before it even began.”

17 How precious are Your thoughts, O God! How great is the sum of them!

18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber

the grains of sand!

“Ah! So many of them – He’s thinking about us all the time!”

 …

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart. Examine me, and know my anxious thoughts,

“Do we have anxieties? What are we worried about? When Adonai knows so much about us and loves us and protects us, and thinks about us in His love and mercy all the time, we should be at perfect peace.”

24 And see if there be any offensive way within me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.

“He will lead us, and guide us. That we can be sure of.”

Then I prayed with them. What a privilege it was to me to be there! Andrew and Vivi were glad I had come and so very appreciative of what I had been able to do for them, but for me, it was just a beautifully awesome bonding time. There is nothing like attending the birth of your grandbaby! It wasn’t my first time, and possibly it won’t be my last, but it’s always always very special.