Mother's Day

Thank you itowers0214 for the pretty blue ribbon!


Mother's Day

“I’m sending you over to the hospital. It doesn’t look like the baby’s grown since your last ultrasound, so I want to hook you up to the monitor for 20-30 minutes to see how everything looks.”

At just 19-years-old the thought of having a child was frightening enough, but now Dr. Armstrong thought there might be problems with the baby, and my daughter looked scared. I’d just driven her to his office on this beautiful Thursday morning for one of her routine weekly checkups, and here we were just 60 minutes later heading to the hospital. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

We arrived at the hospital, and within minutes they’d scurried Moriah into a room where she stripped down to her skivvies. Her nurse, Melinda, checked her cervix and said, “You’re at 2cm, and the baby looks great on the monitor. I’ll just get a 20-minute strip and call Dr. Armstrong.”

Moriah--obviously relieved but still concerned for her baby’s safety--asked, “If he’s okay then why did the doctor want me to come to the hospital?” 

“Sometimes when you’re this close to delivering and the baby stops growing the doctors will choose to induce you. I know that you’re due date is still 20 days away, but the baby is big enough and healthy enough now that the doctor doesn’t want to send you home for another three or four days and risk something happening.”

Moriah nodded that she understood, and the nurse continued, “Now I just want you to lay here and relax, Moriah. I’m going to call your doctor, and we should all know in a few minutes what he wants to do.”

As a registered nurse myself I attempted to reassure Moriah in her nurse’s absence, but you know how sometimes your mind will race from one subject to another, and within mere seconds you’re thinking about something completely unrelated to what you were originally thinking about? Well, that’s what was happening to me. My original thought was I hope the baby’s alright. Then Moriah’s too young to be having a baby. She’s just a baby herself. Then I was younger than she is now when I had her. Then I’m only 37. I’m too young to be a grandmother!

I was parched. I went to get a cup of coffee.

As I made my way back to Moriah’s room I heard her nurse on the phone with the doctor. “You want to give me some orders?” I heard her ask. I knew then that Moriah would be staying.

The nurse reentered the room. “Well, the doctor wants to induce you, so I’m going to be starting an IV and drawing some blood. In addition to your regular IV fluids you’ll have something called Pitocin. Pitocin causes your uterus to contract. When your uterus contracts it dilates, and once you’re dilated to 10cm we can deliver that baby.”

Moriah looked like a deer in the headlights. “I’m not ready for this,” she said, and her eyes filled with tears.

The nurse rubbed her leg and said, “Didn’t think when you woke up this morning that you were gonna be a mama today, did ya?”

Moriah shook her head and started crying.

“I think your dad’s out in the waiting room, so I’ll bring him back and give you guys about 20 minutes to gather your thoughts. Then we’ll move you to the birthing room and get started, okay?”

Del--my husband and Moriah’s dad--had chosen to stay at home to work on a project in the garage rather than accompany us to Moriah’s doctor’s appointment, so when I called to tell him what was happening he came as quickly as he could. When he opened the door he looked as shocked and disoriented as Moriah did, and it made me laugh. 

307 was a beautiful room with a large window that overlooked the hospital grounds. Everything the doctor would need to deliver Moriah’s baby was cleverly tucked away in drawers, closets and cabinets.

Dr. Armstrong broke Moriah’s water at 1:30 pm. Within 15 minutes she was having contractions. I hope her labor isn’t like mine was with her! I thought. I don’t think I could stand to watch her in this much pain for 16 hours.

By 3:30 pm she was already dilated to 4cm, and the anesthesiologist was called to insert the epidural catheter, through which God’s gift to laboring women, Fentanyl, would flow freely to deliver Nirvana.

Within minutes of insertion her pain level went from an 8 to a 4, and by 3:45 it was gone completely. Moriah sat there in her bed smiling and talking to us. Although her contractions were only 15-30 seconds apart, she was comfortable.

5:00 pm: Still only dilated to 4cm, but no pain to speak of. Del, our 14-year-old son Kyle, our 17-year-old daughter Ashley and I decided to go down to the cafeteria to have a bite to eat. Ashley just couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on, so at 5:15 pm she decided to go back up with Moriah. At 5:18 I got a text message from Ashley that read, “!!7!! They’re setting up the table and getting ready to deliver the baby!”

After swallowing the rest of our food whole, we rushed back up to Room 307, and for the next 45 minutes we just sat in the room and visited with each other. Ashley was irritating Moriah by taking pictures of her with her cell phone. Kyle was irritating Ashley by asking her if she was pregnant, too. “Kyle, you’re a jerk! No, I’m not pregnant! I just have a fat stomach.” Kyle laughed. Del and I smiled.

6:15 pm: “I think it’s time,” Moriah said. We called for the nurse, and she drew the curtain to allow Moriah some privacy as she checked her cervix. “You’re at 10.”

Del and Kyle stood up as if on cue. “Come get us when she’s done,” Del said to me as he hugged Moriah. “You’ll do fine,” he said. “Before you know it it’ll all be over and you’ll be holding him.”

Dr. Armstrong took up position at the foot of Moriah’s break-away bed. Ashley helped by holding Moriah’s right leg and I held her left. Melinda stood beside Ashley and gently pressed on Moriah’s belly with each contraction. “1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10…. Good job Moriah. Take a deep breath and let’s go again. Push! 1…2…3…,” she'd say.

I could see his little head! Curly black hairs were poking out, and I thought my heart would burst. “Let’s try to get him out with this next push, Moriah. You’re so close. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to brag to your friends that you delivered him in only three pushes?” Melinda asked.

I kept watching Dr. Armstrong: he was holding a large piece of gauze over Moriah’s perineum and I thought, She’s not going to need an episiotomy. His head will probably be out with the next push, and I don’t even see any blood!

“Come on, Moriah,” Melinda coached. “Push as hard as you can with this next contraction. You’re almost done, sweetie. 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10. Rest. Big deep breath, now, and one more push. 1…2…3…4…5….” And at exactly 6:24 pm out popped the tiniest baby I had ever seen; little Skyler Raye Chapel was born. Weighing all of 5 pounds 2 ounces and measuring just 18 inches long, he opened his eyes wide and looked around at all the excitement.

“You wanna cut the cord?” I turned to see Dr. Armstrong handing me surgical scissors, and without hesitation I snipped through the thick, grayish-colored cord to separate my daughter from my first grandchild.

“You did so good, kiddo. I am so proud of you,” I said with tear-filled eyes. “Just look at him, Moriah. He is so beautiful!” I could see movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turned to see Dr. Armstrong stitching Moriah’s episiotomy. Damn! I thought. He’s a sly one. I didn’t even see him do it, and I was looking, too! A little slight-of-hand, a little gauze for diversion, and voilà! 

Moriah officially went into labor at 1:30 pm and delivered at 6:24 pm--a mere 5 hours. “You beat some who started at 7:00 this morning,” Melinda said.

It reminded me of what Melinda said earlier: Moriah didn’t know when she woke up this morning that, although it was only April 6th, for her today was Mother’s Day.