Bella’s Birth – Shift Two

With the changing of the guard, we were introduced to our new nurse, Jenni. We liked her from the start, but I had no idea when we were introduced just how much of a blessing – and truly a minister to me – she would be throughout the long night. It would become apparent during these dark hours that Jenni knew and loved my Jesus, and consequently, was the perfect nurse to be by my side.

One of the first things Jenni did was get me hooked up to my “traveling pole” so I could stroll further than an eight foot radius from the monitors. Jeff and I took advantage of my new found freedom with a few laps around labor and delivery, making friends at the nurses’ stations along the way.

We headed back to the room to order a late romantic dinner off of the hospital menu. As we finished up, I texted Kristin (hanging out with her mom Deb in the waiting room) to come back and get a few more pictures. My thought was that surely I was progressing and so soon would get my epidural. I wanted a few more shots of me laboring pre-epidural bliss. Little did I know how many hours I had left before that epidural.

At this point, Kristin and I decided my hospital-hating husband needed a few droughts of fresh air, so sent him out on a walk. Kristin promised to keep me good company during his stroll. About fifteen minutes later I got a call from said husband.

“Ummm, honey? I can’t find our room.”

“What do you mean you can’t find our room?”

“We’re in 619 right? Well, I found 619 but it’s not our room.”

Don’t be deceived, while UW is a rather sizable university hospital, the labor and delivery floor is not that large. So I did what any wife would do in the circumstance and busted out laughing at my husband. I assured him that it was highly unlikely there were two rooms with the same number, and sent Kristin out on a rescue mission. Fortunately, he rounded the corner of our hallway just as she headed out, so the rescue mission was a rather brief one. His little snafu, however, of course necessitated another stroll of the hallways to determine whether said same room number (and according to him, confusing numbering strategy) actually existed.

And sure enough, there was another room 619. We apparently were in the special room 619 – EE619. Thank goodness Jeff glanced at the name before opening the door to this other room. That could have led to a severely awkward situation if he had marched on in. McClinton family, you have no idea how close you came to an uninvited visitor that night.

I look back at the pictures of this late night stroll with my husband, and all I see is grace upon grace. The smiles are not plastered on for the camera, but were the true outworking of the joy and laughter that was present. I don’t know that I have greater visual proof of the Lord’s presence than the fact that those were so visibly present on this night of all nights.

Towards the end of our stroll, Jenni joined us to talk about the next steps. Soon, they would check my progress again, and then likely break my water to keep things progressing. Back in the room, contractions continued to intensify. Honestly, nothing could have made me happier. All I wanted was progress, and those higher peaks surely had to indicate us getting closer to delivery. As much as I hated waking up my toddler in the middle of the night to meet her sister, I was so ready to welcome my daughter.

I loved my nurse, loved the OB, and loved the neonatologist who were on that night. One of the reasons I was so disappointed when inducement got postponed to Saturday was that I was afraid of the notorious weekend “skeleton” crew. Quite to the contrary, I felt like the best of the best were working that night and all I wanted to do was have my baby before they all departed at 7am.

Kristin headed back to the waiting room, Jeff laid down for some rest, and I continued my labor sway. An hour or so later the resident and OB returned to check me. Surely I’ll be at least a six, if not eight, by now I thought. Instead I discovered I was still at only four centimeters. More effaced, but only a four. There would be no breaking of my water yet.

And this was when discouragement started to set in and my fist so desperately wanted to clinch down on my plans and my desires. I knew the word the Lord had given me for the day was release, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. I felt like this group of doctors and nurses had been hand-picked. They must be the ones to deliver me. Not to mention the fact we had to get Kristin on the road – her grandson (who actually didn’t make his arrival until almost two weeks later) could be coming at anytime!

Knowing that we were truly in for the long haul now, I told my husband to lay down again to try to get some sleep. Kristin graciously offered to come back and stroll the halls with me. And so we did lap after lap after lap, permanently cementing our friendship deeper and deeper with each turn around the loop. We talked a little about what the coming week might hold. I told her stories about my two best friends who would be flying in, both arriving in time to stand beside me should I need to bury my daughter. At one point an isolette with a small baby was whisked by, surrounded by a large team of doctors. A holy silence between Kristin and I followed as the reality of the night sunk just one step deeper.

It was soon after this, on what must have been at least our fifteenth lap around the same loop, that I stopped mid-stride. “Kristin, LOOK!” She stopped a few steps ahead of me. “Poppies!”

There, illuminated in a box in the hallway, was a vase of glass poppies. The picture still sends shivers down my spine. Oh if I could tell you the number of times poppies have shown up in the past four months! Call me crazy, but on this night I felt like the Lord, who knows how long ago, had planted those poppies in this hallway for this night. As just a small reminder that He knew and He was present and He was writing the story.

Soon after this, Jenni caught up with us on our lap and persuaded me to attempt to lay down for some rest. In tears I told her how much I wanted her to be there for delivery and how I just wanted to keep things progressing. She promised the pitocin would continue to do its job and that my body just needed some rest. We managed to find a semi-comfortable position with an obscene amount of pillows, and Jenni and Kristin left me to get a brief respite of rest.

And it was brief, because soon after the resident showed up to check my cervix again. After an abnormally lengthy exam, she apologized and said she would need to go get the attending. She couldn’t find my cervix. I sat wondering what on earth the sudden disappearance of my cervix might indicate while I waited for the attending to come. She showed up, and after her own exam announced that while I was now 6 centimeters, Arabella had moved up into a floating position – as in her head wasn’t engaged at all in the birth canal. The OB assumed that because of her small size, Bella was able to move up there despite the force of contractions.

Now breaking my water was absolutely out of the question. The OB explained that the concern now was that I was in danger of cord prolapse (the cord coming down first in the birth canal). She warned me that with such regular contractions, and being 6 centimeters dilated, there was a good chance my water would break. She warned me to call for them immediately if that happened. As if this day didn’t have enough stress already.

She left the room and said she’d check in one more time before her shift ended. Jenni once again calmed my nerves before leaving the room. Jeff and I started to talk about an epidural after they left. If my water broke we knew that could lead to an emergency c-section. And the last thing I wanted was to be given general anesthesia – to be knocked out completely – for Bella’s birth. It seemed like it might be time to consider the epidural.

A little bit later, with the sun beginning to rise and all hopes of delivering on this shift gone, the OB attending returned to discuss our situation. They were going to let me labor a while longer, but if things stayed where they were at, they would likely do a c-section early that afternoon. She asked about my thoughts concerning the epidural, and I told her I’d wait for the shift change to be completed and then would get my epidural.

The time had now come to say goodbye to another shift, and in particular, to our fabulous nurse Jenni. We had shared quite a bit about Bella’s story throughout the night and I hated that she wouldn’t be there for her arrival. Jenni told us she actually asked if they needed any extra nurses on the next shift, but labor and delivery was relatively quiet and the answer was no. We both teared up as we said goodbye. Jenni asked if she could stop by that night to see us, which we warmly accepted. I wondered if there would be a baby for her to meet.

And so, shift two came to an end. With the risk of cord prolapse, I was somewhat nervous at this point, and actually quite amenable to the idea of a c-section – at least I knew Bella would safely be delivered then. I was unaware how important the changing of the guard at this point would be to my daughter’s arrival.