12 Years Ago

My Beautiful Son was born 12 years ago today. This is that story.

Because our son Stephen had been still-born a year and a few months previous at 36 1/2 weeks, my doctor wanted to induce me a week prior to my due date in case there were any issues. (Insert foreshadowing music here.) So on Friday, March 26, 2010, we went into the hospital to induce labor.

It didn’t work.

In spite of all our best efforts and a surprise visit to the delivery room by my Mother-In-Law (who unknown to us had decided to fly in from Nebraska to meet her newborn grandson—only to find out she had to wait), Michael decided the time was not yet right. We were discharged on the 27th. We spent the day walking, talking. playing on the WiiFit, trying to convince my son to enter the world.

We went back in to the hospital on the 28th (not my Mother-In-Law, she had to go home) to try again. I spent the night contracting, and all was moving right along. At about 7:10 on the morning of the 29th, Dr. Watson broke my water and Michael was on his way out. At about 7:20, the monitors checking his progress started going off and I was suddenly surrounded by a whole lot of medical people, getting me ready to be whisked out of the delivery room and into the operating room on the maternity ward, all the while assuring me that everything was going to be just fine.

Austin, who was texting everyone that it looked good, all was well, and we would probably be meeting Michael soon, looked up from his phone and I was gone.

Into the operating room I went. My doctor, Dr. Watson, was there prepping for a planned C-Section for another patient. They got bumped. He very calmly told me everything would be okay, that we had to get my baby out right away. Then he turned around and started getting his team ready. If not for that planned C-Section, he would have been in his office, in another building. As it was, he and his team and the room were ready.

The anesthesiologist (who seemed very tall) started to explain to me that we couldn’t do an epidural. I interrupted him, grabbed the mask. said, “There isn’t time,” put the mask over my nose and mouth, and breathed deep. (He came into my room and thanked me for this later.) The last thing I remember is praying. “Father God, this isn’t about me. Please protect my son. His life is in Your hands.”

Meanwhile. Austin was found by the doctor who delivered Stephen, who told him what was going on. He texted everyone. Mom made it to the hospital in about 5 seconds flat.

Every baby is given an APGAR Score when they are born. It stands for appearance, pulse, grimace (reflexes), activity, respiration. They like babies to be around an 8 when they are born. Babies in Colorado tend to be a bit lower, many are born a bit jaundiced because of the thin air. Michael’s score was a one.

When Austin was ushered in to meet our son, he was under some sort of large oxygen mask, and I was not sewn up yet from the C-Section. After I woke up and they brought our son to me. well, I sobbed. It was the single most emotional, amazing, miraculous moment of my life.

I was told later that the umbilical cord was tied in a true knot (a fact that all the doctors reacted to with amazement), so when Michael started down the birth canal, it tightened that knot and he lost all his life support. His heart rate had dropped to about 60 beats per minute. It all could have gone so much differently. But it didn’t. I am so very thankful. He was born at 7:30 a.m., March 29.

I sure do love that boy.

Isn’t life a miracle?

Peace,

Kat