Sara’s been frustrated that I haven’t written my side of Shasta’s birth, but I’ve struggled with how to structure it. Her allegory is so amazing that I know I won’t be able to equal it. Besides, in her comparison, I was the apostles who slept. The catalyst for me writing this ended up being a television show I watched on Netflix called Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. There aren’t very many episodes and the concluding episodes are a four part set in which the studio president (Amanda Peet) goes into the hospital because she can’t feel her baby moving in her belly. She finds out the umbilical cord is slightly cutting off the baby’s air supply. The doctor’s aren’t worried until they take the mom’s blood pressure, which was high, and she mentioned some consistent headaches. I immediately recognized signs of Preeclampsia. It was reflective watching the mother’s would-be husband go through the same things I went through.
I won’t go through the entire story of our hospital stay; I’ll just hit moments that my wife spoke of and echo some of her sentiments; add my perspective. On the morning of Friday, April 22nd, I woke up with a plan. I went to my morning class at 8:30 and stopped on my way back at the store to pick up some snacks. I had several papers due within the next couple of weeks and I was planning to come home from Sara’s appointment and fortify myself against anything but homework. Unfortunately, Sara’s appointment didn’t end for seven days. As we were starting to get a picture of what was about to happen, I emailed all of my teachers. All of them (even the liberal ones) were very supportive and understanding, my volleyball coach even offered to bring us dinner, or help in any way she could. This semester has been the most difficult of my looong schooling career, not because of the difficulty of the classes, which were upper-level difficult, or because of a full schedule, which with full time school and work and a pregnant wife, was nearing overflowing, but because I wanted to put forth the effort and succeed at the classes for my family. With Shasta’s birth, I was given that opportunity.
The hospital visit was rough. As my wife pointed out, I slept fine on the couch bed they gave me. However, sleep came in short bursts of two or three hours at the longest. It wasn’t the eight hours a night that I was used to (that’s a joke by the way). When I was awake, I tried working on homework, watched TV or one of the movies we brought; I even taught Sara how to play Texas Hold ‘Em poker. We just were trying to pass the time until the next test. The blood pressure tests (it was normal when we entered, then shot up to scary levels) were the ones I was the most concerned about. To begin, they happened every 15 minutes; and every time the machine kicked on like a power washer, I would jump up to watch the computer screen like a 3-2 pitch. The numbers jumped all over, its highest at 200 over 120 (the scary number they gave on Studio 60, 180 over 110, was Sara’s high average). And then I got food poisoning at Pita Pit which gave me something else to do while we sat and waited.
I felt guilty leaving the hospital, but I did escape about once a day. I wanted my family to have some Easter, so I went out on the 23rd and played the bunny. Among the many trinket gifts that I got was a stuffed cow named Bree that was Shasta’s companion throughout her stay in the NICU. Shasta is the name of the boy in the Chronicles of Narnia story A Horse and His Boy, and the horse’s name is Bree. My parents came up to Logan to have dinner with my sister’s family and me, and then they came to the hospital to see Sara and help me give her a blessing. As I gave her the blessing, I felt that the trials she was about to face would be difficult.
Within hours of my parents leaving, Doctor Olsen told us that because Sara’s blood pressure hadn’t come back down, they were going to induce her. Still, both of us felt like it would be almost a day before the baby was born, in time for Sara’s regular doctor to deliver. Despite being induced, business continued as usual throughout the night. I think Sara’s description of the events is pretty accurate except for one thing. When Shasta’s head slipped to press on her umbilical cord, and the nurse had a hard time finding her heartbeat, I watched the nurses go into panic mode. They performed quickly and efficiently and professionally, but I could tell something was wrong. However, before I found out what was wrong, the bed was disconnected and Sara was gone. All that was left in the room were the pressure sleeves that Sara had fought the whole time she was there, and the monitor tree that was no longer monitoring anything. I had muted the TV and closed my computer when the nurse had first come in, so I was left with the empty room. For the first time, I realized that I could end up leaving the hospital alone. In the first episode of Lost, the main doctor character Jack describes an event at his first surgery where he makes an almost catastrophic mistake. He let the fear wash over him as he counted to three, and then pushed it from him and went to work. I had that happen twice; as I drove around Easter shopping, and then, as I stood alone in the hospital room. Until that moment, I had never really understood the saying ‘when life gets too hard to stand, kneel.’ There was nothing I could do to help or try to help my family, but be still and know. Again, in the Christmas episode of Studio 60, a group of New Orleans musicians (playing just after Hurricane Katrina) played O Holy Night. I played the words in my mind, and as the chorus started, I heard the words in my head “fall on your knees, oh hear, the angels voices. O Night divine...” and I remembered that moment again. That’s what I did, I dropped to my knees; and after a short, pleading prayer, I got up and started cleaning the room. Pregnancy really isn’t fair. Women are able to connect with their baby by sacrificing everything, even their lives if necessary, for their child. Men end up on the sidelines watching, at best being cheerleaders. As I waited and prayed, several nurses came in to tell me there wasn’t any news or that they’d gotten her into the OR on time, or that she was in good hands; one brought a paper about a Hep B shot that we were going to sign when the birth got closer. Finally, a nurse came in (a pretty cute one if Sara didn’t make it) to tell me that everything had gone well, that both were doing good, and that I could see them in a few minutes.
Seeing Shasta was a huge lift to my spirits. They had her in a tray while six people worked around her. One nurse was pushing air into her lungs, two others were starting an IV; a couple of doctors were working on inserting a tube into her umbilical cord while a third was putting a tube into her lungs to give her surfactant. An x-ray technician stood nearby to check the location of all of it. While I was taking it all in, she got enough air to push out the tiniest of cries, telling me that she was going to be alright. Doctor Olsen soon stopped by to tell me how smoothly everything went. He said that from the time he got the call to the point where Shasta entered the world was 12 minutes, and he was 15 minutes away when he got the call. He told me that it had all gone perfectly and that Shasta cried right away. That’s probably the last time crying will be good news. Soon after, they let me go see Sara.
They had her in an area that looked like a cafeteria with a curtain. This was apparently where the C-Section was performed. I didn’t know what to do or say, and Sara was very unhappy. I tried to sit on the edge of the bed and was met with groans. The nurse directed me to a chair and said “she loves you very much, but she may not like you right now.” I tried to regurgitate everything the doctors had told me, I found out later that Sara didn’t even remember me being there.
I felt very humbled by this baby process. There were hundreds of scriptures that flooded into my head to comfort me throughout the process, scriptures that had been put there by parents, seminary teachers, Sunday school classes, conference talks, mission, etc. I was so grateful for that preparation and everything else that was prepared for us. I was grateful for family that was willing to sacrifice for us. I was grateful for friends, ward members especially home teachers, and others who were nearby and ready to help. I was grateful for the nurses and doctors who were so well trained; who were kind at midnight or alert at 4 am after 11 hours of work. I am grateful for insurance which is something I never thought I’d be grateful for. But mostly, I am grateful for the health and safety of my family. I want them to remain as perfect as they are right now. I love my daughter and I’m sorry it took me so long to invite her here to Earth. Thanks for any who are still reading.
Nick
