My appointment on November 15 was at 2:45 PM, so after working in the morning, I cancelled an afternoon meeting and went to see the doctor. I was half expecting the doctor would put me on bed rest, and tried to mentally prepare for that possibility. But how do you mentally prepare for being told, "I don't know what to make of this, but you're 7 cm dilated. We need to send you to labor and delivery." So off I went by wheelchair, flanked by 3 nurses from the doctor's office, to the hospital across the street.
I called my husband to meet me at the hospital, neither of us really knowing yet that the baby was coming soon. I thought maybe I could just stay 7 cm dilated for a long while, but they later told me otherwise. On my wheelchair ride over to the hospital, I tried to figure out how to send text messages from my husband's phone, which I was using since my dying cat had lost her bladder on my phone just a few days before. This proved to be a difficult task, but I did manage to get the word out to some friends and family to inform them what was happening.
I arrived at the hospital by 3:15, and the nurses were in awe that I was 7cm dilated and still smiling. Their goal was to try to keep me pregnant as long as possible, particularly to get 2 injections of steroids (12 hours apart) on board to help Quinn's lungs mature. They wanted the second injection to be in me for at least 12 hours as well, so we hoped that I could stay pregnant for at least 24 hours.
The other issue was that the hospital's NICU was full, and there was a possibility that Quinn would have to be transported to another hospital after he was born, while I had to stay put. They thought I was too far along to transport while pregnant, but they entertained the idea until Quinn's heart rate dropped momentarily. That was the end of that plan.
I started having a little bit of pain with the contractions a few hours after I got to the hospital. They gave me magnesium sulfate to help slow/decrease the contractions. The nurses and the doctor said that this medication would make me feel absolutely awful, but it didn't. I felt a little hot and swimmy-headed. They wouldn't let me get up to go to the bathroom, so I had to use a bedpan. They also wouldn't let me eat while on the medication.
The next day, they did allow me to eat since I was doing so well on the medication, but they still didn't want me to get up for fear that this would cause my labor to progress more quickly. That afternoon, the doctor checked my progress, and I was 8-9 cm dilated. The doctor stopped the magnesium sulfate because it can make the baby sleepy, and a sleepy premature baby is not a good thing. They wanted the medicine out of my system by the time I delivered.
I thought that stopping the magnesium would cause my contractions to become worse, but they really weren't too bad. Some were worse than others, but I was able to breathe through them without too much discomfort.
I had a scary moment that night, when I could no longer hear Quinn's heartbeat on the monitor. I called the nurse, and she was able to readjust the monitor so we could hear him again. But the emotions and fatigue (I only had an hour of sleep each night, during which I managed to pull out my IV) had already caught up to me, and I started crying hysterically. My nurse was very good and knew how to handle me.
A little later, I had a vision that Jesus was holding Quinn and blowing into his lungs to help them mature. It was the reassurance I needed, and I knew Quinn would be OK. They also told us they had a spot for him in the NICU and would hold it for him until he was born (though apparently they don't usually do this). God was working in so many ways.
At 5AM on November 17, the doctor decided to break my water since I had progressed to 10cm and they had a bed available in the NICU. I opted for no pain control, since I was able to tolerate the contractions. Around 5:45, I felt ready to push, but the doctor was delivering another baby, so I had to wait.
Once the doctor was on her way, I was able to start pushing. This was the most difficult and painful 22 minutes of my life. I had asked to have a mirror so I could see him coming out, but I was in such agony that I kept my eyes closed the whole time and forgot all about the mirror. At one point, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do continue. Then the nurse said, "Come on, this is your last push!" I replied, "You're just saying that!" But she was right, and Quinn shot out like a cannon. She even had to tell me to look down to see my child. I was so relieved it was over, I forgot to open my eyes!
So, at 6:21 AM on November 17, 2011, our son was born, weighing 4 lbs 7 oz and measuring 17" long.
The NICU team worked on Quinn. His heart rate was low, and he needed help to start breathing. But after a moment, I got a thumbs up from Hubby, and I knew Quinn was OK. They had told me beforehand that I wouldn't get to hold Quinn, that he would be whisked away to the NICU right after he was born. But he was stable enough for me to get to hold him for a moment before he left.
He was placed in an isolette (an incubator) because he was unable to regulate his temperature. He also required two bouts of phototherapy due to jaundice. He never needed oxygen, which I attribute to Jesus helping to form his lungs before he was born. He was in the NICU for 15 days before he was stable enough to come home. We are so grateful to have him home and are enjoying him tremendously. We are thankful to God for blessing us with and caring for us and our little miracle.
1 Samuel 1:27-28
