My Guy
This is an archived blog from 2011. Return to the blog home to read other posts from In the Family Way.
Saturday, November 12 was going to be my day of relaxation, one last day just for me before our lives changed forever. I had booked a facial and a mani/pedi and had a lunch date with B-Mom to discuss her living arrangements. It was going to be a great "me" day.
B-Mom had temporarily moved in with a friend. Her friend didn't know that she was pregnant, and she intended to keep it that way. Even though she was full-term, B-Mom was not showing much, so she felt confident that she would be able to keep her pregnancy a secret in these last weeks. I was concerned, however, that she didn't seem to consider what would happen if she went into labor at her friend's house. How would she hide that? Even though she had a scheduled C-section on November 18, babies are known to come on their schedule not ours. B-Mom didn't seem to have any plan about the actual birth and her care during and after the baby was born. I told her she must call me immediately if she suspected that she was in labor. I changed my B-Mom ringtone to something that could wake the dead and hoped for the best.
B-Mom was scheduled for a C-section because she had an elective C-section two years ago, and without medical records, doctors were apprehensive about delivering vaginally. I knew that it would be best for B-Mom if she delivered vaginally since the recovery would be faster and easier, and she stood a better chance of keeping her pregnancy and the delivery a secret that way. I told B-Mom weeks ago, as she sat in my car disappointed that they wouldn't deliver the baby at 34 weeks, that we should pray that the baby comes at a place and time that would be best for her and him. I believed that someone else was guiding this process, and we should put our faith in whatever it was.
I had made plans to have lunch with B-Mom on Saturday. The friend she had just moved in with had found adoption papers among her things and was pressuring B-Mom to change her mind and keep the baby. B-Mom wanted to talk about alternatives.
When I finished with my facial at 11:30 am, I had a text from her saying I could pick her up at 1:00 pm for lunch. I texted back, letting her know I could be there around noon if that worked better. It took 15 minutes, but when she texted back, she said, "My tummy hurts. I think I should go to the doctor."
Her tummy hurts? What does that mean? "Are you in labor?" "I don't know." "How long has your stomach been hurting?" "Since eight o'clock last night. I think I ate some bad spaghetti." Great. I was angry. B-Mom is a nurse and even she didn't know if she was in labor.
I went back home to get our legal documents just in case. I called my sister and asked her how I could tell if B-Mom was in labor, then started on my way.
I was in the car for a few minutes when B-Mom's texts became more urgent. "Where are you?" "How long?" "Please hurry!" I was getting nervous. She was staying twenty miles away from the hospital where she was scheduled to give birth. Should I try to take her there?
I called that hospital on the way, and a maternity nurse told me to take her to the closest hospital if she was in active labor. Active labor? How was I supposed to know that? The nurse told me that if she was irrational and in a lot of pain, we should not waste any time and go to the closest emergency room.
I drove the rest of the 15 miles to B-Mom in the pouring rain while she continued to text me. But as I approached her, waiting in the rain in the parking lot of her friend's complex, she looked calm, fine, in fact, and she had bags with her as she had moved out of the place. Hmmm...maybe she only has a stomachache?
As she got into the car, she seemed calm. I asked her if she thought we should go to the more distant hospital when it hit her, a contraction, a strong one, and she screamed and cried and begged me to help her. I think this might be it!
I knew the closest hospital—it was UCSD Thornton where my doctors were. I sped into the driveway and rushed B-Mom into the emergency room just before 1:00 pm. Once she was checked in, I waited. I called Sarah, our attorney, and B-Mom's social worker, leaving messages for each of them, not knowing what to do. Our attorney had filed paperwork with the hospital that B-Mom was scheduled to go to. This paperwork explained that Rob and I had an adoption agreement with B-Mom, and they would treat us as the baby's parents. UCSD did not know B-Mom, her history, or my relationship with her. Would I even be allowed to know anything that was going on back there?
I waited another 20 minutes before a nurse came out and asked me to call B-Mom's husband. Sorry, no husband. Boyfriend? Nope. Baby's father? No. "Well, she's asking for someone." "Is it Carol?" "Maybe. Who are you?"
I walked to a small exam room in the back of the emergency room into a world of chaos. B-Mom was on a gurney, moaning and occasionally screaming, obviously not sedated. There were at least ten doctors and nurses squeezed into the room, trying to remember how to deliver a baby! A nurse quizzed me: what was my relationship to B-Mom? What did I know about her pregnancy?
I told them all I knew, but I realized that something was wrong. First, this facility was not a labor and delivery hospital, so they had no obstetricians, and no specific equipment for a delivery, and it was too late to transport B-Mom to another hospital. Second, they were not convinced that B-Mom was full-term. I could tell from the phone calls I heard, orders given and questions asked that they thought they were delivering a preemie right there in the emergency room. It didn't matter how much I explained what I knew: B-Mom was scheduled to deliver via C-section in 6 days, so she is full-term.
It was tense. They had a nearby hospital on stand-by to deliver missing equipment. They had called for a special team to come from another UCSD hospital, but they were not sure if that team would arrive in time. B-Mom's water broke when they brought her back into the emergency room and she was fully dilated. They were trying to get her to not push. It was obvious they were all scared to deliver this baby without OB specialists in the room.
I called Rob and told him to get there as soon as he could.
I sat next to B-Mom and held her hand, trying to explain what I was seeing in a way that wouldn't upset her. I coached, cheered, and told her she was strong; she could do this, she was amazing. I can't believe my son was going to be born right here, amidst this chaos.
There was no fetal heart rate monitor, so they were using a standard ultrasound to make sure the baby's heart rate was strong as they delayed pushing. More phone calls, and more updates on the progress of the specialty team. It was an unusually stormy day in San Diego, making travel slow and dangerous.
Baby's heart rate was slowing; there was no way to delay pushing. This baby had to be born now. Just as that call was made, the OB team arrived: a resident, the attending (confirming to me that they thought this was an emergent situation) and a neonatal team. After a quick assessment of the situation, they quickly took charge and explained to B-Mom what she needed to do.
Poor B-Mom was exhausted and scared. She was administered an epidural, and as it took effect, she was told to start pushing. The baby was ready, but the delayed pushing was having an effect. The heart rate was not where they wanted it, and B-Mom was not pushing well. If this didn't happen quickly, this was going to turn into a C-section after all. They decided to use suction to help pull the baby down the birth canal. B-Mom needed to push a few more times to make this happen. On the first long, hard push, the baby crowned, but the suction cup popped off his head. I looked down in time to see this and the hideous indentation in the baby's soft head. For the first time, I started to feel panic. They tried again. This time, it worked. Baby's head emerged, and with one more push, he was out! It was 2:22 pm.
The cord was quickly cut, and he was handed over to the neonatal team. I heard a single, strong cry, then nothing. Everyone was doing something: adjusting B-Mom, taking vitals. One of the anesthesiologists turned to me: "Congratulations, Mom!"
I had collapsed in a chair and was beginning to hyperventilate. I needed to find Rob. I went back to the waiting room where Rob was and ran into his arms, crying "He's here! He's here!" It was an amazing moment.
The baby was small—under five pounds—but healthy. And beautiful. Truly. Our son Ryker Edward Luka had arrived dramatically, but exactly the way he was supposed to!
There was still some confusion about exactly who Rob and I were, but I had the legal paperwork that let them know that we were the intended adoptive parents of B-Mom's child. The hospital was very gracious and understanding; the staff was great with us.
Since Ryker was small (technically "small for gestational age") he was transported to the neonatal intensive care unit for observation, but we were assured that it was a precaution to ensure that he was eating and could put on weight.
While there, Ryker was surrounded by the tiniest of babies, real fighters who were each just over a pound when born. Our baby looked like a real champ in comparison! Within a few days, Ryker had mastered eating, and he was sent home with us, his parents.
I can't believe that this gorgeous little bundle of love that lies here next to me is our son. But while it should be overwhelming, it's not. It's exactly right. I can't wait to watch him grow up and become the person he was meant to be. I can't believe I am so lucky to be the mother of this perfect creature. I couldn't be happier.
Happy Daddy, Mommy and Ryker Edward Luka - November 12, 2011
This is an archived blog from 2011. Return to the blog home to read other posts from In the Family Way.