The Grand Finale

Attempting to bring a 5th living baby to our family was a hard-fought decision. My husband was content with 4, and certain he did not want to endure another pregnancy adventure again. I had not prepared to be done, and always hoped he would eventually come around to my way of thinking, and be willing to accept all the children we could be blessed with. We thought we had matured quite a bit in our marriage by now, but we quickly learned that the size of our family was still our most polarized issue. This time, we decided to come to the table together, to discuss it and try to resolve it once and for all. Surely we could negotiate a compromise. My husband explained to me how the emotional havoc of each pregnancy was more than he could handle. I explained to him that the joys of each new life overshadowed the trials we endured to get them here. I was such an optimist and a planner, that I stored away all the baby items to be used by the next child. I had already been storing away items that Jersey #4 outgrew. My heart already loved our next child, and I was not sure I could handle halting my dream so abruptly like that. I concluded that I understood and respected his position, but if he required that we have no more children, I was certain I would harbor much resentment towards him. We also discussed my dream to adopt children into our family. He was much more open to that idea, since it would not require a pregnancy on my part (and remains an open topic for our future). In the end, he agreed to support 1 more pregnancy, provided that I agreed that the 5th was the last. I was excited to be able to have another baby. He was relieved to know the end was in sight. We referred to this as our grand finale baby!

The first trimester of pregnancy with Jersey #5 was a breeze by comparison to my other pregnancies. I did not have morning sickness. I was very tired. I napped regularly with my toddlers. The first ultrasound at 11 weeks showed a healthy baby. I joked with Dr. S that I was planning to have one of those “normal” pregnancies that I hear other people talk about.

Unfortunately, stress entered the scene all too soon. First came a series of external stresses. My husband had a terrible time with some major job stress, which included a horrible coworker to face each day, and the financial instability of the company to threaten his job security. He was grumpy all the time, and focused on himself. Then, Jersey #2 and Jersey #4 both came down with the flu. Sick children can be quite exhausting to manage, and it did not help that we were really terrified that Jersey #2 might not have the heart health to handle such an illness. She fought the flu for over a month, and gave us a couple good scares in there. Thankfully, she eventually prevailed and regained her health over time. My Mom surprised us with a visit with the intention of helping us take care of Jersey #2, restore order in our household, find some rest ourselves, and free up my husband, so he could focus on his job. My husband threw himself into his work like a crazy man. I did not take the rest I needed, and instead continued to wear myself out with errands and activities. My Mom wore herself out with the workload of all the piled up chores at our house, in addition to care of 4 children. Stress mounted. Tempers flared. I listened to my Mom’s negativity all day, and my husband’s negativity all night….until I could not take it anymore. And then I snapped. I got into an epic argument with my Mom, that was halted only by the sensation of a gush of blood! Not again!

I called my husband home from work to take me to the hospital so that we could see what we were dealing with this time. He calmly responded, “ I was thinking it was about time for something like this again.” Sure enough, I was 14 weeks along. Time for a bleeding scare, we supposed. As we sat in the waiting room, I proceeded to vent to my husband about the awful argument with my Mom. He sat there next to me, pretending to listen to me, but reading an electronic article on his Palm Pilot instead.

Thankfully, the doctor’s assessment revealed that the baby was still alive and well in the womb, and my cervix was still closed. Unfortunately, the cause of bleeding could not be determined. The ultrasound department was booked, so they sent me home (after another RhoGam shot) with an ultrasound appointment for the following week. They encouraged me to rest as much as I could, as they were most worried about how much I was bleeding.

My Mom decided to go home and let me rest, thinking her presence was adding too much stress. I was torn between the relief of her going, and the desire to beg her to stay and help me. I was an emotional wreck. I was so scared, we might be losing the baby, and I was so weak physically from the stress, strain, and blood loss. I was also still angry about some of the things she said to me during our argument. I was embarrassed about the way I had behaved. And, I was hurt and furious with my husband, and all his negativity, selfishness, and lack of support for any of my emotional or pregnancy-related needs. That was too much emotional stress to even think straight. I went to bed to try to sleep it off. I rested in bed through the weekend. My husband took care of the kids and watched movies with them in the living room. He avoided me as much as possible. I felt very alone.

The ultrasound appointment revealed that indeed something was bleeding in the womb, but it was not real clear what it was. Placenta previa was ruled out, because the placenta was not over the cervix. My husband responded with “Oh great! We go from having rare problems to having unexplainable problems!” The ultrasound also revealed that the baby was alive, healthy, and a BOY! The plan was to keep resting, monitor the bleeding, and follow up with additional ultrasounds to try to identify the source of the problem.

We went through the motions of our life, with a heightened level of stress underlying everything. I needed the comfort of a friend. My husband needed something on his long list of stresses to give—to go away and stop plaguing him. I resented him for not supporting me like a friend. He resented me for even putting him through another stressful pregnancy in the first place. I accused him of not caring about me. He blamed me for everything he did not like about his life. Our relationship as we knew it, blew up in our face. We spent the remainder of the pregnancy barely speaking to each other…and certainly never speaking kindly. He worked extra days and longer hours. I set up a routine of life with me and the kids that seldom included him.

It took a lot of prayer to help me grow through the trials I was buried in. Our church family offered me a lot of support and encouragement. I prayed for God to work a miracle in the womb, and in our marriage. I did not appreciate the stress in my life, but I certainly knew where to turn to find peace.

I had an ultrasound appointment every 3-4 weeks for the entire 2nd trimester. Each ultrasound revealed a new suggestion as to what could be causing the bleed, or what to call the bleed. My body continued to bleed for over 2 months. Thankfully, Jersey #5 was able to continue to grow and thrive in the womb. Praise the Lord for His protection! The bleeding finally stopped toward the end of the 5th month of pregnancy, halting just as abruptly as it began. Early in the 3rd trimester, the perinatologist concluded that a piece of the placenta had broken away from the wall of the uterus (placental abruption). That is what was causing the bleeding. Thankfully, instead of continuing to pull the placenta away from the wall (which would have threatened the life of the baby and me, both), the abrupted part eventually broke off entirely from the placenta. It remained as a blood clot inside the womb, and Jersey #5 played with it for a while, as if it were a toy for him! Over time, that blood clot dissolved, and went away by the last month of pregnancy. Praise the Lord!

Delivery was the next challenge. If the placenta had continued to have problems, a C-section would have been encouraged. Since it appeared to be mended, my delivery options were open. A repeat Cesarean delivery, versus a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) is a heavily debated topic in the childbirth world. I met with the surgeon to discuss my options, seeking what was the safest way to deliver Jersey #5. The surgeon was a big fan of VBAC, especially in women who have successfully delivered vaginally before. He explained the risks of both options, and informed me that I was a great candidate for either option. From a medical perspective, he could not advise me to choose one method over the other, based on the statistics. I was hoping he would give me an easier conclusion than that. I was expecting him to nudge me in the direction of his preference, so he really surprised me when he told me that I should trust my intuition, and he would respect whichever decision I made. He said that he could quote the risk statistics to me all day, but since they were all at or below 1%....and he knew I represent that 1%.....those statistics would not do any good in my case. Rare things happen to me, so the statistics are just not helpful.

We brainstormed a healthy “compromise” that I felt good about. We scheduled a repeat C-section for the date when I was a day past 39 weeks, so that we would not risk him being born earlier than his lungs were ready. Since Jersey #5 was head down and in a good position for birth, there was no concern if I happened into labor on my own. If I did go into labor before that scheduled surgery, then we would assess the speed and progression of my labor, to see if a VBAC would work out. It covered all the bases for me. I would not go overdue (and risk meconium issues, or the placenta breaking down from age). I would not be induced (because induction is harder on the uterine muscles and could potentially aid in rupture of the old scar). Jersey #5 would not be rushed out of the womb too early, for the sake of avoiding labor. And, if nature ran its course and labor came easily, I could confidently allow it to run its course. If nature did not run its course, then Jersey #5 would be brought into the world via surgical delivery, and I would enjoy getting the planning and scheduling that comes with it. It was a win-win situation! I spent the remainder of the pregnancy praying that God’s will be done in this situation, and praying that I would be blessed with a healthy, living baby boy. I did not want to try to take matters in my own hands. I knew who was in control!

And that was when I had to start drinking from the saucer….because my cup runneth over! Blessings were poured out all over me those last few weeks of pregnancy. My husband decided he had had enough stress from his unstable job, so he started to seek a new one. He was offered a great job, in his field of interest, with a local company that was of good size and stable. They offered him a competitive salary that met our needs, along with good health insurance, and the perk of an education benefit for my husband to return to school for a higher degree. As his other stresses began to decrease, he also began to realize that pushing me away was not in his best interest. He started speaking kinder and acting nicer towards me. He started to take a greater interest in his family. We worked together to get things organized and prepared for our new addition. My Mom arrived a couple days before the surgery date, to take care of the kids during the delivery. We were able to enjoy some time to visit, my husband was able to process out of one job and into the other….and still have two weeks off to be home to help. We installed a brand new infant car seat (because our other one had expired!) I packed up a bag for the hospital, and we attempted to get a good night’s rest.

The only time that I seem to go into labor early and on my own is when I schedule a c-section delivery! Sure enough, my water broke at 4am, the morning I was scheduled to report to the hospital by 7am. I took my time getting showered and dressed, waiting to see if things would progress. Nope. It was PROM (premature rupture of membranes) again, and there were no contractions. Dr. S recommended I just go to the hospital early and see how things were progressing. So we did. Oddly enough, the bag of waters had broken, but my cervix was not even acting like it was ready for delivery. (I do not know how that is possible.) The surgeon happened to be on the floor when I arrived, so he assessed me and said that he really didn’t have any new recommendation beyond what he recommended a month ago. My situation was not any different, as far as he could tell, since my body was not actually in labor. I was not going to go for an induction to move things along, since that would bring risk. So, we opted for the c-section. Since I arrived early that morning, the night nurses got me prepped early, and I was the first surgical patient of the day! It was nice to go through the surgical delivery in the morning, when I was rested and awake. The anesthesiologist gave me a bit of concern when she attempted to draw blood and ended up butchering my arm veins. She must have seen the worry on my face, because she assured me that she would be much better at placing the epidural needle in my back. Yikes! It was true…she was fantastic at placing the epidural needle. She turned out to be a really good anesthesiologist. She told me to tell her if I began to feel queasy, but somehow she always knew I was getting queasy and was already fixing it, even before my mind was considering the idea. I remember thinking “Oh, I think I am getting queasy"....then I would see her out of the corner of my eye, inject something into my IV…and instantly I would change my mind, “Nope, it’s gone.” The surgeon was the same surgeon who had delivered Jersey #4, and he admired his handiwork and complimented the quality of my healing from that first cesarean. Jersey #5 must have been up high, because there were points when I was feeling pressure as if they were digging around in my ribs to find him! And then, he was born! Jersey #5 came out so healthy and alive! He cried to let us know he could, then he immediately settled down and checked out the new environment. He was content with his Daddy holding him, next to me, while the surgeon finished closing everything up.

He was able to nurse when I was moved to recovery, and then he settled right to sleep on my chest.

The recovery room nurses were so happy with us and kind to us. They zipped me through recovery because I was doing so well, and they moved me to my room in time for lunch…..taking me to the nicest room in the new wing of the hospital. It was a corner room with an amazing outdoor view! With our grand finale baby, we were going out in style!

She Turned Our World Upside-Down

Jersey #4 does not have a pregnancy & childbirth STORY....she has an ADVENTURE!

The largest age gap between our children is this one between Jersey #3 and Jersey #4. This is because Jersey #3 was a high maintenance baby! His demands left us drained, exhausted, and barely able to function for nearly his entire first year (but that would be another post entirely)! When I finally reached a point where I felt brave enough to desire another baby, The Referee offered a mathematical solution...."We've already got 2 girls and 1 boy, so let's have another boy and make it even!" (Sure enough, Jersey #4 is a girl.)

Pregnancy arrived easily and we were excited to share our big news that our family was growing! Unfortunately, our extended families reacted poorly. We heard a lot of "With all that you have been through, are you sure you want to try to have more kids?" and "I thought you were done"..."I thought your husband was done".....or the ever-popular "I thought you would stop once you got your boy." My husband and I were both a little shocked by such negativity. I was more shocked that anyone who knew me would dare think I was done having kids, since I have always expressed a desire for a large family. My husband was shocked that folks even had strong opinions about the size of OUR family, as if that was any of their business. He went so far as to react to his Mom with, "Well, it is not like I am asking you to pay for them or take care of them." In some ways, the negative reactions from others were a blessing to us, as we were able to turn towards each other for support at the start of this pregnancy, acting as a team.

Once again, the first trimester was filled with morning sickness and exhaustion. Blah. And, once again there was a big bleeding scare. This time, I was just past 13 weeks. Thinking we knew the routine, we went to the hospital to see what we might be dealing with. With Jersey #3, Dr S said placenta issues were usually to blame, so that is what we were expecting again. There were a few major differences this time around. First, it was A LOT of bleeding. A lot. Second, the resident doctor in charge that day has no business working in the field of prenatal health. I do not know her story, but I do know she really should pick a different career. The intern was awesome, and he was able to find the baby's heartbeat. That was a huge relief, because at least we knew the baby was still alive. He also came to my defense when the Resident doctor continued to suggest that bleeding in pregnancy can be caused by many things, including sexually transmitted diseases, especially if I had any new sexual partners recently. I stared at her---completely jaw dropped open---wondering what in the world she was talking about! Apparently, she didn't bother to read anything in my chart before entering the room. The intern actually told her that all of my children also belonged to my husband (not that he even asked me that question), but I am guessing even he thought his superior was on the wrong tangent. I finally interrupted her and gave her a brief run-down of my previous pregnancy, where a bleeding scare like this was caused by placenta previa. She brushed off the idea of placenta issues, and said she had no need to check on things via ultrasound. By that point, I had enough of her, and just replied that since we heard the heartbeat and knew the baby was alive, I was content with that, and I would just follow up with Dr. S when he returned from vacation the following week. The Resident Doctor then offered the "comfort" of telling me that IF this pregnancy was even wanted, that I MIGHT have some grief if I miscarried! What? I informed her that I completely understood the grieving cycle, as I had already had a stillborn baby and a baby I miscarried. I assured her that women DO grieve the loss of their babies. I waited around for the nurse to give me yet another RhoGam shot (due to RH incompatibility), and went home to rest.

I saw Dr. S the first business day he was back in town, and he immediately ordered an ultrasound to see what we were dealing with. He could not find the baby's heartbeat with the Doppler that morning, and I was not feeling movement, so I was secretly in a state of panic. It did not take the ultrasound tech long to figure out that my panic was not a secret, because as soon as she placed the transducer on my abdomen and started to search for the baby, I stopped breathing completely and was trembling so hard that she reached out her other hand and held my arm down against the table to hold me still. She captured an image of the baby--with a beating heart--immediately! She then took a pause to let me catch my breath, calm down, and wipe the tears of relief from my face. She did not say a word about my reaction, but her entire posture was filled with compassion. Instead of starting with crown-to-rump measurements, she stayed right there on the heart, and played the recording of the heartbeat 3 times in a row (probably because I relaxed more and more each time it played).

This tech did a great ultrasound evaluation. She was able to get a great view of the problem....a subchorionic hematoma. This is a blood clot between the layers of the amniotic sac. It looks like a big bubble on ultrasound....

The cause is unknown. These are often discovered during the first trimester, during routine ultrasounds. They sometimes bleed, but sometimes not. They usually resolve themselves by the 2nd trimester. Of course, since this is me we are talking about, the subchorionic hematoma I had was huge. It was causing so much bleeding that when I returned to the hospital later in the pregnancy for another RhoGam shot, the nurse remembered me from "that miscarriage that had so much blood." (She was shocked to learn I was actually still pregnant, and the baby was still alive). And, I was in the 2nd trimester when it was discovered...so no one knew if it would actually resolve by delivery, since I was not following the textbook.

So, once again, I spent the second trimester resting as much as I could, praying constantly, and worrying way too much about something that was out of my control. And, once again, my husband decided he could not handle the emotional strain of a risk to the life of our child, so he threw himself into his work and avoided home as much as possible. Thankfully, the bleeding did eventually stop after a couple weeks. We monitored the size of the hematoma with ultrasounds every 3-4 weeks, and it eventually started to shrink. By the time I was in the 3rd trimester, we knew we were having a baby GIRL, and the doctors were confident that the hematoma was not affecting the growth of the baby, and it would be dissolved completely by the time of delivery. Praise the Lord!

And then, the other shoe dropped.....

The company that my husband was working for announced they needed to lay-off about 10% of their employees, due to major financial woes. My husband received 60 days advanced notice that he was going to be laid-off from his job. Jersey #4 was due in 58 days!

There was no time to cry or lament. We took one evening to face the emotional impact of this disappointment. Then, he got busy! He updated his resume, attended the career counseling seminar the company offered, and started job hunting with great passion. We also took charge of trying to get out of a rental property mess we were dealing with, and evicted the non-paying renters, and put the property on the market to be sold (at a loss). I prayed constantly, and asked for prayers from our family and friends, repeatedly. We decided to aim for local jobs first, but opened ourselves up to the possibility of moving out of state.

Thankfully, my husband received 2 job offers within a month. My husband was excited about the "really cool" start-up opportunity, so he chose that job. We were so thankful he found another job so quickly. Praise the Lord! The additional blessing was that the transition between jobs would occur right around the time of our daughter's birth, giving my husband at least a week or two to be home to help. How nice that things are working out so well for us!

And then a 3rd shoe drops....(aren't there usually only 2 shoes?)....

At my 37 week prenatal appointment, I commented to Dr. S that I was not convinced that Jersey #4 was in the proper head-down position. Usually, Dr. S has great skill at determining the position of the baby, just by pressing on my abdomen. He palpated to check, and was a little unsure. So, he called a colleague and sent me over to that clinic for a quick ultrasound peek at the baby's position. That doctor was busy when I arrived, so he had one of his Resident Doctors meet with me first and run the ultrasound. Sure enough, Jersey #4 was breech. She was determined to be a "Footling Breech," because she was standing on one foot in the womb. Her foot was down, her head was up. She was not in the proper labor-ready position for birth. I had already research some of the options, so I knew that a breech baby would encourage a c-section delivery. I had also read about the procedure to attempt to externally turn a breech baby, known as a version. I had many questions and concerns.

The Resident Doctor was a big fan of the version, and very against c-sections. She started to explain the version, and completely ignored my concerns. I refused to be dismissed, so I continued to ask questions and express my concerns. I told her that I was not certain I was even a good candidate for the version, considering the subchorionic hematoma I had. If the amniotic sac was weakened in some way that it had a bleed, then was it even wise to go adding external pressure like that? She brushed off my question with the reply that most of those hematomas resolve themselves by the 2nd trimester. Yes, that is true, but mine did not. I then explained to her that I was suffering from torn abdominal muscles, (due to a big coughing illness I had during that pregnancy), so I wasn't even sure my abdomen would handle the procedure very well. She brushed that off and said it wasn't a problem. I then explained my BIG concern which was that the version has a chance at causing the umbilical cord to wrap around the baby's neck. And, this doctor lost her case when she casually shrugged and told me that cords around the neck were not usually a problem either. I sternly informed her that my first baby arrived stillborn due to the umbilical cord being around her neck, and what was "not usually a problem" for her, was a BIG problem for me! When the statistical risks are quoted as only being around 1%, I AM THAT 1%!!! Those rare problems always seem to happen to ME! And, when it is happening to ME, it is 100% for ME!!! She then argued back at me that since I had already had 4 successful vaginal deliveries, I did not want a C-section. I informed her that of course I did not want a C-section delivery...no one wants a C-section...I wanted my baby to be born ALIVE! I was choosing the delivery option that was the safest for my baby, because I was not going to risk burying a child just to bring down the c-section statistical rates! She had the nerve to hand me an appointment card, with the version scheduled for the next morning, and assured me that I could talk to the surgeon then and opt out of the procedure.

I left that clinic and called my husband. He listened to the information and said that if the version only had a 70% success rate at turning the baby, but also ran a risk of harm to the baby....and a c-section was safe for the baby, but added risks to me of infection and a longer recovery time...then it sounded like a no-brainer to him to schedule a c-section. After all, our top priority is a living baby. Infections and recovery complications we could handle. Keeping everyone alive was the priority. I totally agreed.

I called Dr. S and gave him a run-down of the appointment, the advice I was given, and our decision to refuse the version and go with a c-section. He assured me that we were making a wise decision, and he would call the surgeon and inform him. I was worried that the surgeon was going to be mad that I didn't let him try the version. I had nothing to worry about, though, because the surgeon was totally understanding and respectful of our decision. He apologized for being too busy that day I arrived in his clinic, saying he wished he had the chance to talk to me himself instead. He was also completely understanding of my history of complications, and even offered to schedule the c-section 3 days before my due date, to follow along with Dr. S's pattern of "mercy."

I assured the surgeon that I had never gone into labor early before, and I felt comfortable waiting until the date he originally proposed for the c-section (which happened to be 2 days before my due date). He had explained to me from the beginning that he did not want me to go into labor on my own, because with the baby's foot on my cervix, and not her head, there was great risk of the cord swooshing out of my body, if my water broke, because nothing would be there to stop it (and that is an emergency situation). He did not want to do the surgery too early, because he wanted the baby to have as much time to grow and develop as possible. Balancing those priorities was very important. He gave me his pager number and told me to page him at the first sign of labor, or he would otherwise see me the morning the c-section was scheduled.

In the days that followed, I read all I could to learn about c-sections, so that I would be prepared for the procedure, what to expect with it, what could go wrong, how it would be different, and how to best heal while also taking care of a newborn. I received a lot of encouragement from 3 older women, who all told me their breech baby vaginal delivery stories (or nightmares, as the case may be). One lady put it best when she said that breech babies come out looking like they were in a fight. I also paid attention to all the c-section stories I could gather from the moms I knew who had experienced them. I was ready. I buried my fears of the unknown and tried to focus on the positive...getting to "schedule" the birth day....what a cool thing for a planning person like me.

...and then shoes started dropping all over the place.....

I never did get to experience the benefit of scheduling Jersey #4's delivery. No, my body decided to go into labor on its own. Early. For the first time ever. Two days before the scheduled c-section (4 days before my due date), our Realtor called me to tell me that she had received a cash offer on the property we were trying to sell. Two hours later, my water broke! (our Realtor takes credit for sending me into labor with her awesome news). My husband was at work at the time, attempting to out-process from his job. He had already turned in his pager, and was in an area where he could not take his cell phone. I could not reach him. My Mom was planning to visit and stay with the kids during the delivery, but she was not set to arrive until the next day. I paged the surgeon and got his voicemail message that said he was out of town for the day and to not leave a message! I started to panic. I called Dr. S (who enjoyed a chuckle at my predicament) and he advised me to go to the hospital immediately, before I risked delivering on the interstate! I sat frozen in the chair, so that I did not move and encourage the cord to move anywhere it shouldn't be, and started to make a series of phone calls to our church family. I called our babysitters, who gladly came over to watch the kids. I called my friend (who is a trained nurse), who gladly came over to drive me to the hospital...and was even ready to deliver the baby on the way, if necessary! I called my Mom, who jumped into her truck and started the drive to my house.

My sister called me as I was on the way to the hospital. She told me she was busy calling and emailing my husband, so that when he returned to the world of technology, he would know the news and could meet me at the hospital. She was also very curious to know if my water broke first, before contractions began. Yes. This is a funny thing to us, because it supposedly only happens about 10% of the time, yet it has happened to me and both of my sisters, and our Mom!

We made it to the hospital in plenty of time. Contractions had not started yet. The cord was not swooshing out. All was well. My husband made it to the hospital shortly after, thanks to my sisters' messages. Since I had eaten a hamburger for lunch, they wanted to delay the surgery for as long as possible, to allow me time to digest. The surgeon made it back to town, and to the hospital while I was waiting and digesting. The baby was being monitored, and she was doing great. My Mom arrived to stay with the kids. Contractions did not start for 4 hours after my water broke. Things were running fairly smoothly, under the circumstances, until a series of emergency c-sections bumped my name down the list and required further waiting. I was dilated to 4 cm and it was 11pm, by the time it was my turn in the delivery room.

The C-section delivery was really, really cool! I don't know if we were open to adventure, or if we were just that elated that our daughter was being born, but my husband and I had a blast with the surgical birth experience! My husband dressed up in the surgery room scrubs and proudly modeled his new look for me. I strained my head to try to capture any glimpses of the surgery in the reflections off the metal equipment around my head. (There was a sheet blocking us from the surgical site). I enjoyed resting on a bed while the surgeon did all the work to remove the baby from my body. My husband and I chatted and joked with each other and the anasthesiologist. Here is a picture of us, while the surgery was in the early stage.....

I was numb from the waist down, and could not feel anything. The surgeon explained to us that Jersey #4 would be born feet first....he would reach in and grab hold of her feet and pull her out. She did not appreciate his services, and came out screaming! We were so thankful to know she was alive! She was healthy and alive! And screaming! Lots of screaming. She calmed down when her Daddy held her. He brought her for me to see. I asked what color was her hair, and my husband replied that she did not have any. She was so blonde that she was bald. She was also demanding to nurse. She was not real patient with the surgeon trying to close up shop. She screamed in the operating room. She screamed in the hallway as we were rolling to the recovery room. The assistant wanted to do an assessment of the baby while she had a chance as soon as we arrived at the recovery room, but Jersey #4 refused. She screamed to nurse. So, the doctor gave in and handed her to me and suggested I nurse her first, before they attempted anything else. Jersey #4 nursed well, snuggled in my arms, and fell asleep on my chest. Thankfully, I was recovering very well from the surgery, so the nurses were able to let me just lay there undisturbed for a while, and hold my baby girl. As my husband dosed, sitting in the chair beside us, I reflected on the implications of this child and her adventurous life thus far. We just might have our hands full with this one. She refused to turn head down to be born the regular way. She refused to wait for her scheduled delivery. And...I had just witnessed a doctor give in to a newborn baby and quit an assessment because she was demanding her Mama and would not settle for anything else. For some reason, when I was dreaming about the arrival of a 4th child into our family, I was expecting her to be calm and easy-going. Instead, Jersey #4 completely turned our world upside-down!

He blasted into the world like a rocket

Jersey #3 makes his guardian angels work overtime. He likes to ride on the edge of danger....starting with his exit from the womb.

I wanted to have more children. I was called to motherhood. I was home with the kids full time now. I loved raising Jersey #1 & Jersey #2. I no longer feared losing my children...even though I know tragedy is always possible...because I was finally resting peacefully in the will of God. (Granted, there was the whole "give it to God" lesson that I learned during Jersey #2's open-heart surgery, but that story will have to wait). I knew that God would not give me more than I could handle. I also knew that the blessings are always so much greater than the trials.

My husband did not agree. He was so relieved that Jersey #1 was alive. That was good enough for him. He did not want to take anymore parenthood risks. The surprise timing of Jersey #2, brought forth his struggle with wanting control. Her heart condition only elevated his vulnerability. Adding more children to our family was an unnecessary risk from his viewpoint. I appealed to his ego and reminded him that it was obvious he was an outstanding father, if he cared so strongly about his children that he could not stand the thought of losing them. He is a natural father. There is no doubt he loves his children. I thought, surely, he would see that the blessings outweigh the risks. It took many years, filled with many struggles, before I realized he was grieving at a different pace than me. He was stuck in the spiritual struggle for control. When he would dare to dream, he would happily consider another baby. When the fear of tragedy built up, he would throw himself into his work. He spent majority of my pregnancy with Jersey #3 working long days, and overtime hours with travel. Under the guise of providing for his family, he also hid from his emotional stress.

I spent most of the pregnancy home alone with 2 toddlers. Thankfully, I hardly had any morning sickness whatsoever. That was my first clue I was growing a boy. I usually prefer sleeping throughout most of the first trimester, but that feeling was magnified this time around. With the pregnancy with Jersey #3, I was exhausted beyond belief. I could barely move. I could barely keep my eyes open. I would get out of bed in the morning--when the toddlers being awake required it--and drop into the recliner in the living room. I was so frustrated with my limitations and inefficiency. I wanted to be up taking care of my house and kids. Instead, I was falling asleep sitting up, and too exhausted to move. Jersey #1 & Jersey #2 had free run of the entire house. They made quite a mess each day. On my worst days, I let them get their own snacks out of the fridge....juice boxes, cheese, fruit, and yogurt....and movies played continuously, while I remained glued to the couch, struggling to keep my eyes open. I complained to the doctor. He said of course I was exhausted, I was pregnant with 2 small children at home...what did I expect. No, he didn't get it, I was EXHAUSTED. Barely able to function, and I was hardly doing anything.

I later learned that all that exhaustion and my inability to move much, served as quite a protective mechanism for Jersey #3. That first trimester was a fragile time. I just didn't know it. As I started to get some strength back, I also started to do more. I managed to get out to the grocery store, with 2 toddlers in tow, at 14 weeks pregnant. As I was unloading the groceries from the car, I felt a gush. Oh No! I freaked out. I ran to the bathroom and discovered it was blood. Begin PANIC mode! I called Dr. S, fearing I was experiencing another miscarriage. Dr. S informed me that this far in the pregnancy--and after we had already seen a healthy baby, with a healthy heartbeat on ultrasound a few weeks prior--it was more likely a problem with the placenta that was causing the bleeding. He advised me to go to the hospital to get checked out, so we would know what we are dealing with. I called my husband home from work. I called a friend who was willing to keep the girls for me. While I waited for their arrival, I thought I was doing a good job of keeping calm. I packed up the diaper bag, changed diapers and dressed the girls. It became obvious that I was not calm, because I completely forgot to put a diaper on Jersey #2...and that was discovered later by my friend who had to take care of her "leak." Oops.

I was assessed at the hospital. The baby was still alive! We could hear his heartbeat with the Doppler. I was actually feeling movement early with him, so I had that extra comfort too. The bleeding was labeled a "threatened miscarriage," because bleeding is not a normal pregnancy symptom. The doctors did not want to "handle" things much, because they did not want to irritate my cervix or make it mad, for fear it would open up and expel the baby. They took a peak to see that it was closed, which was a good sign. Unfortunately, they could not figure out what was causing the bleeding. The ultrasound machine for that triage unit was so old, and it had a big black spot on the screen, right where they needed to see. The ultrasound department was booked full that day. So, they had to write me a referral to another ultrasound clinic, with an appointment a few days away. I was given a RhoGam shot (because my blood is Rh negative, and my husband's is Rh positive), and sent home with instructions to rest and monitor the bleeding.

I was 15 weeks along when that ultrasound revealed I was growing a baby BOY...and I had placenta previa! The placenta was resting right on top of my cervix, which is not a very sturdy spot for it. Thankfully, I only had "partial placenta previa" which meant the placenta was only covering part of my cervix, not the entire thing. That gave improved odds that the placenta could gradually move up the wall of my uterus, as the uterus grew, and move away from the cervix in time for delivery. (If the placenta sits on top of the cervix, it might become detached too soon, as the cervix dilates, which is dangerous to the life of the baby. It also yields to a c-section delivery, because the baby is suppose to be born before the placenta!) With this poor positioning of the placenta, blood was seeping out my cervix, from the placenta, as my activity level increased.

I was sent home to rest, watch, wait, and try not to worry. Time would tell if the bleeding would stop, if the placenta would grow away from the cervix, or if the baby's life was in danger. There are no interventions for such a diagnosis at 15 weeks.

I was scared. I feared losing Jersey #3. I prayed for God's healing hand. I requested prayer of all my family and friends. My husband was scared of losing Jersey #3. He did not like to be emotionally vulnerable like this. He threw himself into his job, and tried to ignore his fear.

We praise the Lord that Jersey #3 continued to grow and develop. The bleeding stopped within a week. I was careful to rest, as frustrating as it was to watch entropy take over our household, because the baby's life took priority. I had a series of ultrasounds that monitored the placenta, and showed it was moving up, away from the cervix. The coast was clear in plenty of time for delivery.

Then, things took an eery turn, running a little too-close-for-comfort, to our experience with Mackenzie. Just 1 week before Jersey #3 was due to be born, his movement in the womb decreased dramatically. He was normally very active. In one day's time, he became very mellow. Thankfully, he was still moving, so he was still alive. I mentioned this at my prenatal appointment that morning. Dr. S. suggested I go in for a Non-stress test to check things out and make sure all was well in the womb. He was very casual about the process, saying that if any concerns were discovered, they would recommend induction. He joked that I was the only woman he knew that LIKED induction, so that would not be a problem for me. On on the flip side, if everything looked good, I would have that comfort. It was a good plan. I agreed.

And along came a Guardian Angel...
I arrived at the hospital and discovered that the nurse who was administering the non-stress tests that day just happened to be the wonderful nurse who gave such respectful care of Mackenzie when she was stillborn. She remembered me, and remembered my situation, because we had apparently left quite an impression on her. She set me up on the monitors to check out contractions and the baby's heartbeat. We chatted a bit. She was so sweet. She took care of other patients too. When the room had cleared out, she came over to my station and reported that the monitoring looked good. The baby was moving enough to fit the "normal" range. She explained that the second step in the process was to take a look at the baby and the womb on ultrasound, and take some measurements, including a calculated measurement of the volume of amniotic fluid. She offered me some water to drink. Then she did something that was completely out of character for her...she sat down and said "Look. Even though things look good on the monitor, I would like to recommend to the doctor that we go ahead and induce you today and get the baby out." She assured me that she was not hiding any information. She just did not think it was a good idea to send me home and let me worry through the weekend. I was both surprised and relieved by her suggestion. I agreed, and she went over to the delivery unit to find a doctor. She returned and told me that there was a doctor who agreed with her assessment, but he wanted her to do the ultrasound anyway. So, she took a peak at the baby on ultrasound, and he looked good. I assured her that Dr. S would be fine with her plan for induction, because he expected that is what would be advised if anything was found anyway. She called him and gave him the details, completely fired up and ready to defend her position. A defense was unnecessary, because he was fine with that plan. He called one of his Residents to come over to meet me and get the process started.

Dr. S. told me later, that he was so surprised by the phone call from that particular nurse. He said that she is not normally that assertive, she does not push for "unnecessary" medical interventions, and she was arguing her case before she even completed the assessment (when she is normally so thorough). He was not surprised by the recommendation for induction, but he was rather surprised that it was so out of character for this Nurse. He said she was trusting her gut, and was a guardian Angel to Jersey #3.

This was my 4th induction with Mesoprostol, so I knew the routine well. That medicine works wonders with my body, and was just as effective this time around. My husband finished packing up a hospital bag for me, following my instructions over the phone, and joined me soon after. We chatted with the resident doctors and the Labor & Delivery nurses, throughout the admitting, assessing, and inducing process, and settled in for another round. We were relieved that the baby was still alive and well. We were also relieved to know he would be born soon. Dr. S was running things from the phone, with his Resident Doctor managing things in person at the hospital. He was planning to join us after his clinic ended that night.

The first dose of Meso got the contractions started. Change of shift brought in a new nurse for the night. Unfortunately, she and I did not click well. I nicknamed her "the nurse who always said No." It did not matter what I was requesting, her first response to me was always No. At the end of the 4-hour run of the first Meso dose, my cervix was only dilated 2cm. Bummer. I was hoping things would move faster this time. Dr. S decided to go home to dinner with his family, after clinic, and join us when things started really progressing. His resident was to call him with updates regularly. The 2nd dose was inserted. The Resident told me that Dr. S insisted that I get to have an epidural whenever I decided it was time, so to just tell him when I wanted it. I told him I was doing fine at the moment. An ultrasound machine was brought in to check the baby's positioning, because the Resident was not confident that the baby was lined up properly. It turns out that Jersey #3 was shifted a little to the side, so his head was not in line with the exit door. Since his head was not pushing down on my cervix, those contractions were not as effective. The nurse did a terrible job of explaining this to us. She asked me to lay on my side so that the baby could get into position. I had always been told that laboring laying down in bed was a bad idea, so I inquired if it would slow things down. She acted as though my questions were an imposition to her time. Thankfully, the Resident was willing to go into full detail about the position of Jersey #3's head, and the theory of how my positioning in bed might allow gravity to help the baby line up better. It made sense, so I agreed.

It worked. His head lined right up, and the contractions became much more effective almost immediately. Almost too immediately! The medical staff had only left the room about 10 minutes before I was having to breathe through and manage contractions. I also had to pee. When I returned to the bed, the nurse came to re-attached the monitors. I told her I was ready for the epidural. She told me No, that I was only 2 cm dilated, and I needed to be at least 4cm before they could insert the epidural. I told her there was no way that I was still only 2cm dilated. She agreed to go get the Resident doctor. No sooner had the door closed behind her, my water broke!

The Resident returned with the nurse and checked me. 5 cm. Since my water had broken, he asked if he could insert internal monitors on the baby's head, to get a better reading on the baby's heart. We questioned the procedure, the safety, and the details. The nurse initially tried to brush off our concerns as if this was routine, but we ignored her and turned to the Resident for his thorough explanation. This was our 4th delivery experience, and we had never had internal monitors before, so it couldn't be that routine! He convinced us with his explanation, so we agreed. He inserted the scalp monitor, ordered the epidural, and called Dr. S.

Apparently, Dr. S was the only one who expected things to move quickly from there. He got word that I was 5cm dilated, and my water broke on its own, so he jumped in the car and quickly drove to the hospital. He said he was going down the interstate wondering if he was going to even make it on time.

Back at the hospital, I was managing contractions, waiting for the anasthesiologist to set up for my epidural. I knew the routine for that too. The nurse raised the bed, and helped me get set up on the edge of the bed, feet on a chair, leaning over a pillow, while she and my husband stood in front of me for support and to keep me from falling. She did a good job of coaching my breathing, and had a temporary lapse of encouragement! As the anesthesiologist was cleaning the injection site, I felt a strange sensation down below, and thought out loud, "What was THAT?" The nurse answered that it was just my baby moving down the birth canal, and that I was doing a good job. She had no idea how right she was! The baby was moving down the birth canal....quickly! The anesthesiologist was ready. He told me to hold still. I said I thought I needed to push. The nurse said, "No, no, honey, you don't want to do that. You are only 5 cm dilated. Pushing now would harm your cervix." The anesthesiologist came to my aid, and suggested that maybe I should be checked before he actually inserted the needle. The charge nurse was in my room at the time, and confirmed his recommendation, and yelled out the door for the Resident. The nurse was barely able to help me get back to the center of the bed to be checked, when the charge nurse yelled "Grab a glove in case you have to catch!" The anesthesiologist just packed up his stuff and left in a hurry.

The Resident doctor barely got a gown up to his shoulders before he had to catch Jersey #3. When I first said I thought I needed to push, the charge nurse told me that I was dilated to 10 cm, but I had a piece of cervix hanging in the way. She then said I would probably just push through it. When the Resident arrived, I told him I think I really need to push. The charge nurse asked me to hang on and breathe through it, while she tried to help the Resident into his gown, and tried to set up for the delivery. The charge nurse had elbowed my regular nurse out of the way and was taking care of my case now. I thought it was because my regular nurse was so annoying. I later learned it was because things were getting dangerous, and required the charge nurse's experience. No one mentioned to us that Jersey #3's heart rate was dropping way too low. People just started coming into the room. It seemed like Doctors and Nurses were coming out of the cracks in the walls. [That internal monitoring was letting everyone know the baby was in trouble, and the computer at the unit desk was alarming everyone to the fact.]

The 3rd time I said "I need to push" (which was really just 3 sentences in succession, even though the details type out longer), the charge nurse said "Yes you do." My body was pushing anyway, so our dialog was actually useless to the situation. There was no time to set up the bed, my legs, my body positioning, or anything. There was no coaching for breathing, pushing, or any routine of the sort. I gave one push that I can take credit for concentrating on, while the nurse pulled a gown up the Resident's arms, and Jersey #3 blasted into the world like a rocket!

There were many hands and many arms waiting to transfer Jersey #3 from the Resident Doctor's hands to the newborn table. This time, the baby was not placed on my abdomen. The cord was cut mid-transfer. Everything happened VERY quickly. We heard him cry, so we knew he was alive. That was good. He needed oxygen, and some bagged resuscitation, which also yielded many physical assessments. There were Doctors and Nurses from a variety of hospital departments ready to assess the baby--Pediatrics, Newborn Intensive Care, Family Practice, OBGYN, L&D. Dr. S walked into the room at the moment Jersey #3 was transferred across the room, but he took the scene in stride. He took a peak at the baby and all the action, then assured us that he looked good. He took a peak over the Resident's shoulder at my need for medical attention, and joked that the baby left skid marks (abrasions) on his way out!

When some of the dust had settled, Dr. S scooped up the baby, and placed him in my husband's arms. He said that he always enjoyed watching the color return to my husband's face, when our children are born alive. After I was all patched up, I got to hold the baby. He was still fussy, breathing fast, and "complaining." They would later classify his behavior in the lump term "transitional issues". He was having a hard time transitioning from womb to world.

One of the other doctors challenged Dr. S, and an intense discussion took place in the corner of the room. She appealed that she was required to assess the baby. Dr. S informed her that after she did her assessment, he would do his assessment! He left the room. While the baby was being assessed, the nurse-who-always-says-no returned to assist me. She asked if I wanted some water or juice. When I asked for a straw, she told me no, that straws cause sucking down air, which would lead to gas. I turned to my husband and asked for the straw out of his finished drink. I joked that gas would be a good thing, because if you pass gas in recovery, they let you go home because all your parts work! The nurse explained to me that she did not know what the doctors were going to do. She said that any time that a baby needs oxygen following delivery, he has to go to the NICU (Newborn Intensive Care Unit) to be monitored. She then explained that she had just sent her previous patient to the NICU, and that it was full. So, she was guessing they would be sending Jersey #3 out of state to the next closest children's hospital.

Dr. S put a halt to all of that. He allowed all of the other hospital departments to assess the baby, make their recommendations, and fill out their paperwork. Then, he did his assessment. He calmed Jersey #3 down, talked to him, checked him out from head to toe, and assured us that he was healthy, alive, and doing well. He put him in my arms and said that was right where he needed to be. Jersey #3 was my only living child who did not take an interest in breastfeeding right after delivery. He went to sleep instead.

Jersey #3 was our baby who most resembled Mackenzie. He was real pale like her too. Ironically, his situation was the closest to hers, only he was born alive. The cord was also wrapped around his neck. When he entered the birth canal, it became constricted, which was what was alarming all the medical staff via the monitors. Thankfully, he was born so quickly that he was able to survive his life support being depleted like that. In Mackenzie's situation, the cord was wrapped around her neck, and it became constricted as her head engaged into my pelvis. For Jersey #3, his off-center position prevented his head from engaging into my pelvis, so the cord was not compressed early on. "Precipitous delivery" has its negative side-effects, such as all those "transitional issues"....exhaustion, weak breastfeeding, difficulty maintaining body temperature & oxygen levels, etc...but for our family, that speedy entrance gave Jersey #3 a chance to LIVE! He cemented our childbearing philosophy--as long as the baby gets here alive, that is all that matters...the rest is just details!

The Calm Before the Storm

Growing & birthing Jersey #2 was my absolute easiest pregnancy & delivery! Dr. S jokes that it was because she was "brewing something BIG!"

When hoping for a pregnancy, I am so impatient during that "2-week wait" between the window of opportunity for conception, and the time when a home pregnancy test will register. I did not have to do any hoping and waiting with Jersey #2, because she was a surprise! When Jersey #1 was just over 6 months old, I started having the desire to plan another baby. My husband thought I was crazy! It is quite common for bereaved parents to have only 1 living child after a loss, deciding to not take anymore chances after that. My husband was of that mindset. I wanted more. I was called to motherhood, and I loved it! We discussed the topic off and on, until he realized I was quite serious about wanting another child. So, when Jersey #1 was about 10 months old, we sat down and had an "intellectual" discussion about the "best" spacing of siblings. (I've posted about that topic earlier). We decided 2.5 years was our ideal, so that was the timing we were waiting for. So, when my cycle was much later than usual, we quickly learned that all of our intellect and reasoning was futile, because I was already pregnant!

I had quite a bit of morning sickness in the first trimester (which I've learned is typical of my pregnancies with my daughters). I also liked to sleep a lot. Thankfully, my husband was a pro at taking care of Jersey #1, so they gave me lots of opportunity to sleep.

I had an early "dating" ultrasound with Jersey #2 around 12 weeks, and an anatomical ultrasound at 21 weeks. The ultrasounds showed a healthy baby each time, and at 21 weeks we learned that she was a GIRL! Considering my husband is the oldest of 3 boys, and his father is the oldest of 6 boys, I was highly amused that we were growing our 3rd daughter! We joked that we were balancing out the generations.

I continued to work full time, even after having Jersey #1. I took 3 months leave when she was born, and then we enrolled her in a daycare center near my work 4 days a week. My husband worked from home on Fridays and cared for her while she was young (and slept a lot). When she became more mobile, we both switch to the 9-80 work schedule that gave us every other Friday off, and we took turns being home with her on Fridays. This was the schedule we were working while I was pregnant. I loved my Fridays home with Jersey #1. I also found myself more comfortable at work on the Fridays my husband was at home with her, versus the work days she was in daycare. I started to doubt that arrangement. As we talked about my desires, and about the family budget, we came to the conclusion that it would be better if I cut down to a part-time work schedule. My boss gave her approval. I began my new schedule of working only 2 days per week, at the start of the month Jersey #2 was due.

When was she due? A window of opportunity opened up when the "dating" ultrasound gave a due date for Jersey #2 that was 1 week earlier than my cycles predicted. The ultrasound also gave a margin of error of + or - 1 week! Normally, we would just go with the date from my cycles, since I am usually so accurate with my record keeping! But, this time around, Dr. S repeatedly mismatched the dates across all my prenatal paperwork. This gave him a nice justification to provide another "mercy induction" if I started to fall apart at the end. He could schedule an induction any time that week I was due (and still follow hospital policy of not inducing before 40 weeks), since the ultrasound paperwork would have shown me to be 40 weeks and overdue already. He left the option open. I was certain I felt strong enough to make it to the end.

Sure enough, I started to freak out as that last week approached. Mackenzie died in the womb 3 days before her due date. I was induced and delivered Jersey #1, 3 days before her due date. I was scared I was not going to be able to function when I reached 3 days before Jersey #2's due date, as I was starting to immensely fear losing her. So, we opted for another "mercy induction." Dr. S. scheduled the induction date, and told me to eat a good lunch and report to Labor & Delivery at noon. His resident would get things started, and he would join us after his clinic was closed that evening. My sister took a day off college and drove up to stay with Jersey#1.

This time around, I was actually 80% effaced at the start of induction! Wahoo! My body was actually doing something to prepare for childbirth (for a change). I was not dilated at all. The first dose of Mesoprostol was inserted, and contractions began about 30 minutes later. My husband & I sat and played Scattegories and waited for some action. The nurses would join in and help us brainstorm words when they came into my room to assess me.

The 2nd dose of Mesoprostol is usually given 4 hours after the first dose. Dr. S. had arrived by then. I was starting to feel the contractions, and I was not real thrilled about enduring another labor. I decided I would prefer an epidural this time around. I was already 4cm dilated, so an epidural was ordered, and I was switched to Pitocin instead of a 2nd dose of Meso. The epidural went in smoothly. I was told the epidural would not take away the pressure, just the pain. I was also told I might have some uneven numbness. I don't know what that anesthesiologist was talking about, because that was the best epidural I have ever had! I was perfectly numb in all my childbirth areas, but I could still move my legs. I had no pain, no pressure, no problem! I knew that it would be better if I was in a position to let gravity help the baby descend, so I asked the nurse to help me prop up one end of the bed so I could rest comfortably in a nearly upright sitting position. Dr. S. was going to remain at the hospital that night. My husband had a pull-out chair in the room with me. The plan was to sleep through labor, due to the awesome power of the epidural! My husband and I slept peacefully, listening to the sounds of Jersey #2's heartbeat on the monitor.

When we woke up 8 hours later, I was starting to feel some pressure and contractions. Dr. S arrived at the point I was starting to have to breathe through the contractions. I couldn't remember if I was suppose to breathe fast or slow. (That's what I get for claiming that childbirth prep classes were "useless" because of my "abnormal" experiences.) Sometimes I was just holding my breath, because I couldn't decide. Dr. S. casually reminded me to breathe slow....and that worked great! He checked me and I was 10cm dilated, but a piece of my cervix was still forming a ledge. No worries, I could push through that. But, Dr. S. was concerned that the baby's head was still so high. Once again, the amniotic sac had not broken on its own. He did not want to break it, like he had done for Jersey #1, because he feared if the baby's head was not right there, then the umbilical cord could swoosh on out with the gush of fluid, which would ultimately result in an emergency c-section. Dr. S. contemplated his options and asked our opinion. We assured him that we would deal with whatever came our way, and we trusted his judgment. He suggested he could use a needle to poke a tiny hole in the sac, to let the fluid come out slowly, and maybe that would help the head lower before the cord. It worked! The amniotic fluid leaked slowly, and Dr. S guided her head with his hand, and made sure the cord was not there.

Jersey #2 must have been up in my ribs, because I had to push and push to get that girl out. My husband, Dr. S. and the nurses were cheering me and encouraging me greatly. At one point they cheered so much I asked if she was crowning? No. They told me that I had pushed her down from the North Pole, and now she was finally at the Equator. Ugh. I still had to push her across half the globe! I was determined. I pushed and pushed some more. The nurse exclaimed, "Look at all that hair!" when she was finally crowning. I was excited to see it too, so I pushed her right out. Jersey #2 was born with a full head of black hair. She was beautiful.

When things go well, the husband is offered the opportunity to cut the umbilical cord. My husband was not interested in that tradition. He does not have the stomach for biological stuff. Dr. S. knew this, which is why he gives The Referee the "job" of watching the contraction monitor. This time, when Jersey #2 was placed on my abdomen, Dr. S held up the umbilical cord and a pair of scissors and asked my husband if he wanted to cut the cord. Do you remember those cartoons where the character ran through a wall and left a cut-out of their shape in the wall? My husband nearly left his shape in the wall. He saw the cord, the scissors, and the smile on the doctor's face, and he jumped back so fast, and so far, exclaiming "Dr S NO!" that he nearly crashed through the wall. That was funny!

Upon examination, Dr. S discovered that Jersey #2 had a very loud heart murmur. She was breastfeeding well, sleeping well, and crying without turning blue, so the pediatric cardiologist refused to examine her in the newborn nursery. He suggested that most murmurs that are detected at birth resolve on their own by 5 days old. He suggested that Dr. S listen to it again in 5 days and refer us for a cardiology evaluation if it was still there. Dr. S knew that murmur did not sound normal. He was correct. It was still there at 5 days old. At 2 months old, the cardiology evaluation revealed that Jersey #2 had the congenic heart defect Tetralogy of Fallot, which could only be treated by open-heart surgery!