On the Thursday night before the storm, I was working on a GPNFH article on the impending countdown to the birth of our third child. Little did I realize baby had a surprise in mind for us.
Here’s the story Friday morning Deb woke me up by saying, “Roger get up. We have a problem. I think my water broke.” I woke up quickly because I knew this was a problem. Water does not break. The polar covalent bond between the hydrogen and oxygen can be altered a few ways, but water does not break.
If, for example, one of the hydrogen molecules is separated from the oxygen, the compound becomes an hydroxide ion. (OH-) This would be a problem because Deb’s water would then be in a very basic state (pH > 9.5) and could potentially eat away her cells. I like Deb, and would not want this to happen.
After I explained to Deb that it’s not likely her water broke, she explained to me that she was simply using the universally understood phrase to mean that her amniotic membrane had ruptured and was leaking fluid.
“Oh.” I said. “That is a problem.”
Then I made an even bigger mistake. I asked her, “Are you sure?” [Ed’s Note: Gentlemen I assure you do not question your wife when in this condition.] Deb went on a short rampage that had me humbled, ridiculed, and dressed ready to go – with the kids – in less than five minutes.
Most of you know how the rest of the story goes, but I’ll recall it for you anyway.
We arrived at the Marshall Hospital not sure what to expect. After a brief chat with the nurse and doctor we were informed that baby wants to come, baby should not come, and so they were going to try to stop baby from coming. Unfortunately – for us – baby wanted to come REAL BAD and the Marshall Hospital was not fully equipped to deal with such a premature baby.
This meant Deb was going to be flown to Sioux Falls. Since things were in a small state of emergency the flight crew to transport Deb via airplane to Sioux Falls had to be staffed to include care for Deb and baby. This meant a full plane with no room – and no care – for dad.
Why do they always forget about the dads in these situations? (Okay women, bring it on)
On the drive to McKennan Hospital I learned three things. 1) A one and one-half hour drive is much longer than that when you are not sure if your wife is in hard labor. 2) Our car does not do well going up hills, or at traveling more than 55 mph. (Not that I was speeding to get to the hospital or anything) 3) We need a new car.
When I arrived at the hospital, I walked into Deb’s room not really sure what to expect; baby, labor, a team of 40 doctors pondering the case, and so I was a bit surprised to find a very comfortable looking Deb just lying in bed, contractionless. No obvious signs of sweat, anger, or labor. She greeted me with a friendly wave and big smile, and I suddenly wondered why I spent so much time yelling at the car to go faster.
The doctors had hooked her up to a muscle relaxant to keep the contractions from coming. That not only relaxed the contractions, but Deb as well. No wonder she had a big smile on her face. She was doped up! And women complain about labor and delivery. (Wait, strike that comment from the record?. I’m going to be in enough trouble already)
Well Deb stayed doped up for a couple days. After a $205 limited echo exam, and a $305.00 echography, the doctors told us the good and bad news. “The bad news”, doctor Helmbrecht said, was that Deb’s “water broke.” I was prepared to inform the doctor that water does not break when Deb shot me a look that had me making an excuse to hastily leave the room. The good news was that the baby was doing fine despite the added stress. (A statement that could not have been made about me at the time)
More good news was that in all likelihood, the steroid shot that they had given Deb should have reached the baby by now, and should have helped give the baby’s lungs a jump start toward the final stretch of maturity. I knew this shot was important, but was nonetheless concerned that the baby would be disqualified from any future Olympic events because of this early steroid use. (The IOC is so touchy these days)
So the plan at this point was to continue to monitor baby to see how baby adjusts to the stress of its drying environment, and to switch mom to different medication to keep the contractions away. So Deb got unhooked from the “Doper” and was given some pills to ward off contractions. “Contraction-Be-Gone” I think was the name.
Meanwhile, back in the womb, baby was doing just fine until one day when she wasn’t. We’re not really certain what the cause was, but baby’s heart rate was elevated. The new doctor assigned to the case, Dr. Wahl, was concerned about the possibility of infection, so she did some tests. After a $370 Level II ultrasound/unusual services, and a $540 Fetal Non-Stress Test Professional Compo (well, that’s what it says on the bill) we learned that baby was doing just fine. (Must have been gas) Doc Wahl thought that maybe in 4 or 5 days they would be mature enough to deliver the baby.
Baby gave us another surprise the next day. They were able to do another test to determine lung maturity, and it came back showing that the lungs were mature. Deb called me that morning and asked if I wanted to have a baby that day. Seeing that the only thing I had on my schedule was a hectic morning dropping the boys off at day care followed by a miserably unsuccessful day adjusting to my increasing responsibilities at work, I though, “What the heck.”
Deb said they would induce when I got there, so I didn’t need to hurry. (Like I wasn’t going to hurry)
Well, I got there, we talked a bit, and then the induction began. While waiting for things to kick-in we passed the anticipatory moments with a futile discussion on what to name the baby, a surprise visit from friends who did not know Deb was going to be in labor, and by trying to accept the one aspect of this birth day that I had been dreading? the realization that this child was not going to be born on a minor holiday.
You may recall that Luke’s birthday is on Flag Day, and Jordan’s is on Tax Day. You cannot know how proud I am of this, and how beneficial these special days have become to us when faced with questions of when the boys were born. We are very pleased to have been able to have the boys born on these holidays.
At the onset of this pregnancy, it looked as though St. Patrick’s Day would be a good possibility for another special birth date. As the pregnancy drew closer to the end, Deb started making wild predictions about an early birth by one month, which would set another possibility of Valentine’s Day. (We were quite excited about this possibility since the majority of our V-Days have been disastrous.)
When this fiasco started, all thoughts of holiday birthing ceased. Then, when things stabilized, those thoughts again surfaced. Deb had thought she could try to make it to Groundhog’s Day. For some goofily stated reasons that you can come up with on your own, I am glad this did not happen. Australia day (January 26) was another possibility, and was looking like the date based on Doc Wahl’s 4 – 5 day prediction after the first amniocentesis. But alas, this was not to come true.
However, as fortune would have it, the baby was born on a somewhat significant day. January 22, 1999 marked the 26th anniversary of the (in)famous Roe versus Wade decision, legalizing abortion. Kind of fitting considering our personal view on the subject of abortion. I figure Deb and I staged our own private protest.
Now we just needed to name the outcome of that protest. We were kicking around a few names after I decided the baby did not look like an Elaine. (Our first choice) Some did not stick; some stayed in the running a long time.
Since we did not have a name picked out before Deb’s sister Anne called, she decided it was her responsibility to help us. [Anne still claims responsibility for naming Jordan] So I told her what names we were thinking of, and Anne told me if she liked them or not. Anne said she liked Emma, and added Christine for a middle name. Anne decided that would be the best name.
So a little while later – after Anne had plenty of time to inform the family of the name she picked out for our baby – Deb’s Aunt Cecelia called to ask if we knew that Emma Christine was the name of Deb’s great-grandmother. We didn’t.
We still were not convinced on a name, so we slept on it despite family pressure to come up with a name so that they could finish making their baby gifts with the baby’s name on.
The next night I was talking to Deb’s Mom – who called to find out if we had come up with a name yet so hat she could finish making their baby gifts with the baby’s name on – and learned that Deb’s Mom was pregnant with Deb when the original Emma Christine died. Since I had already decided I did not like Theresa for a name, that pretty much clinched it for me. I called Deb and said Emma Christine? And Deb replied Emma Christine.
When I told a friend about this story he responded, “Sounds like everyone figured it out before you. No surprise there.”
True.
So, baby is named and doing well. Mom has been named for quite some time and is also doing well. Luke and Jordan are happy with their names, and the name of their new baby sister. Although I have secretly wished I was named something else, there’s nothing I can do about at this time since I just had 1000 business cards printed.
All in all, life is good.