Mina: A Birth Story - Part IV
My daugther, Mina, was born happy and healthy on March 10, 2017. She's a 7 lb, 3oz, 20 inch ball of wonderment with large feet. This is the story of how she got here.
Part IV: Finale
My theory on why this labor took so damn long is that it was at least in part due to the double epidural nonsense; plus the 20% higher dosage kicker the second time around. By the time it was all said and done, Adair had two little baggies full of a drug that Wikipedia calls "50 to 100 times more potent than morphine" pumped deep into her system. Pretty sure that shit killed Philip Seymour Hoffman and Michael Jackson.
Anywho, with the pain management issue as settled as it was gonna get, it was time to start thinking about pushing to get this little bugger out. One little fun wrinkle in this whole thing was that because of insurance issues, Adair's doctor couldn't deliver Mina at the hospital where she normally worked. Adventist was considered her "backup" hospital, but as far as I could tell, she had never stepped foot in the place. Every nurse who asked us who our doctor was responded with "hmm, really? Are you sure? I've never heard of her..." and then would skeptically type her name into the system. In my experience, nurses generally take great enjoyment out of being proven wrong, so it was great to go through the motions with each and every one of them as the hours ticked on.
So, because of our nurses' lack of familiarity with our doctor, much of the leadup to the delivery had a bit of an improvisational feel to it. First, for those who don't know, doctors don't show up in the process until craaaaazy late. In this case, it meant that the nurses weren't supposed to call the doctor to the hospital until Adair was completely dilated. So naturally, the nurses jumped the gun, called the doctor too early, and pissed her off. She put on a happy face for the two of us, but after checking on Adair for a bit and making it clear that it would probably be a while before the baby arrived, she stalked off to lie down in whatever fancy pants place doctors go to sleep in hospitals.
While the doc slept, Adair began to push. Three pushes per contraction, every contraction, for 10 seconds each. My job during all this was to hold Adair's hands and help her do the counting. Three pushes per contraction, every contraction, for 10 seconds each. Three pushes per contraction, every contraction, for 10 seconds each. For HOURS. Oh my god it took such a long time. This baby had very little interest in being born into Trump's America.
Finally, what felt like three days later, the baby was getting closer. The doctor came in to stay, and Adair pushed and pushed and pushed. And pushed and pushed and pushed. And the baby just still refused to be born. At about 5:00 a.m., the doctor gently suggested to one of the nurses: "Go ahead and let Dr. Nakamoto know that we have been pushing for about four hours, with no birth." Oh man did Adair know what that was code for: fuckin C-section. At this point. having pushed for that long, my poor wife was going to have to give it up and let the professionals take over. I had visions of five or more extra hospital nights (worst nightmare in life coming to fruition), and Adair had visions of her stomach being literally sliced open and her organs displaced just to bring this little sweetling into the world.
So, she kicked it up a notch.
My memories are hazy of this moment, because I was absolutely delirious with fatigue and fear, but I swear to you, with tears streaming down her face, Adair whispered "Beast mode." After that, it was on.
Every push from that point forward, I could tell had some extra oomph behind it. Adair had entered the adrenaline-fueled Mom zone and she pushed like a woman possessed. Still slowly, but now surely, the baby was making progress. The doctor and nurses began to see glimpses of my baby girl's head. Then I began to see glimpses of my baby girl's head. This was happening, we were almost done!
Then, she got stuck. Right then and there, with the crown of her head totally visible to me, my baby got stuck. Her heart rate, that sure little beep that I had grown so accustomed to over the last thousand hours or so, began to plummet. Every medical professional in the room took on a very specific facial expression that I think many of us are familiar with: "Fuck" mixed with "don't freak out in front of the patient".
At that point, a lot of shit began to happen at once. I started to cry, out of fear, exhaustion, the weight of the moment. The doctor asked the nurses to start preparing a vacuum; and one of the older [read: bitchier] nurses began to argue with her about whether she could use the fucking vacuum to deliver this baby. It was some bullshit about how our doctor is a D.O., and only an M.D. is certified to use a vacuum. It was basically the medical version of F.B.I. versus N.Y.P.D. "Officer, you are out of your jurisdiction and over your head." "Oh, I'm over my head? No I'm over your head motherfucker!"
I invite you, at this brief interlude, to imagine that you are watching your baby potentially suffocate, your wife is bleeding to death, and meanwhile a few people nearby bicker over the technicalities of how to solve either or both of those problems. My blood began to boil. People were running around, paging doctors, checking vitals, talking things out.
So Adair basically just said "fuck you all" and pushed Mina the rest of the way into the world. My baby was born. No C-section, no vacuum. Here she was, and I could hear her cry. It felt like driving out of the end of a tunnel after holding your breath for 10 hours. She was here and she was beautiful.
So, because of our nurses' lack of familiarity with our doctor, much of the leadup to the delivery had a bit of an improvisational feel to it. First, for those who don't know, doctors don't show up in the process until craaaaazy late. In this case, it meant that the nurses weren't supposed to call the doctor to the hospital until Adair was completely dilated. So naturally, the nurses jumped the gun, called the doctor too early, and pissed her off. She put on a happy face for the two of us, but after checking on Adair for a bit and making it clear that it would probably be a while before the baby arrived, she stalked off to lie down in whatever fancy pants place doctors go to sleep in hospitals.
While the doc slept, Adair began to push. Three pushes per contraction, every contraction, for 10 seconds each. My job during all this was to hold Adair's hands and help her do the counting. Three pushes per contraction, every contraction, for 10 seconds each. Three pushes per contraction, every contraction, for 10 seconds each. For HOURS. Oh my god it took such a long time. This baby had very little interest in being born into Trump's America.
Finally, what felt like three days later, the baby was getting closer. The doctor came in to stay, and Adair pushed and pushed and pushed. And pushed and pushed and pushed. And the baby just still refused to be born. At about 5:00 a.m., the doctor gently suggested to one of the nurses: "Go ahead and let Dr. Nakamoto know that we have been pushing for about four hours, with no birth." Oh man did Adair know what that was code for: fuckin C-section. At this point. having pushed for that long, my poor wife was going to have to give it up and let the professionals take over. I had visions of five or more extra hospital nights (worst nightmare in life coming to fruition), and Adair had visions of her stomach being literally sliced open and her organs displaced just to bring this little sweetling into the world.
So, she kicked it up a notch.
My memories are hazy of this moment, because I was absolutely delirious with fatigue and fear, but I swear to you, with tears streaming down her face, Adair whispered "Beast mode." After that, it was on.
Every push from that point forward, I could tell had some extra oomph behind it. Adair had entered the adrenaline-fueled Mom zone and she pushed like a woman possessed. Still slowly, but now surely, the baby was making progress. The doctor and nurses began to see glimpses of my baby girl's head. Then I began to see glimpses of my baby girl's head. This was happening, we were almost done!
Then, she got stuck. Right then and there, with the crown of her head totally visible to me, my baby got stuck. Her heart rate, that sure little beep that I had grown so accustomed to over the last thousand hours or so, began to plummet. Every medical professional in the room took on a very specific facial expression that I think many of us are familiar with: "Fuck" mixed with "don't freak out in front of the patient".
At that point, a lot of shit began to happen at once. I started to cry, out of fear, exhaustion, the weight of the moment. The doctor asked the nurses to start preparing a vacuum; and one of the older [read: bitchier] nurses began to argue with her about whether she could use the fucking vacuum to deliver this baby. It was some bullshit about how our doctor is a D.O., and only an M.D. is certified to use a vacuum. It was basically the medical version of F.B.I. versus N.Y.P.D. "Officer, you are out of your jurisdiction and over your head." "Oh, I'm over my head? No I'm over your head motherfucker!"
I invite you, at this brief interlude, to imagine that you are watching your baby potentially suffocate, your wife is bleeding to death, and meanwhile a few people nearby bicker over the technicalities of how to solve either or both of those problems. My blood began to boil. People were running around, paging doctors, checking vitals, talking things out.
So Adair basically just said "fuck you all" and pushed Mina the rest of the way into the world. My baby was born. No C-section, no vacuum. Here she was, and I could hear her cry. It felt like driving out of the end of a tunnel after holding your breath for 10 hours. She was here and she was beautiful.
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