Stabilizing
Second floor. Birthing unit. Hope we get a room with a view, but really at this point, anything will suffice. Oh, first we head to an exam room. I guess this makes sense. The nurse is great—sarcastic but sweet (I can see Mindy mentally adding her to the birth announcement list). She’s about our age with a kid of her own. Plus, she seemed cool with me not wanting to watch too closely, cut the cord, and all that stuff. She’s gonna be great.
All sorts of tests ensue. This is becoming normal for Mindy, she’s been at the doctor every week for a while now. The nurse says “OK, so your water broke, you’re five-centimeters dilated, your contractions are four minutes apart and this is your first baby?” Mindy “uh-huh.” “And now is when you get here?” “Yeah, why?” “Well most others would’ve been here twelve hours ago, so you guys won’t be stuck here too long.” Mindy and I nod at each other as we mentally pat ourselves on the back.
After numerous check-ins from our nurse, we finally get moved to our labor/delivery/recovery room. Not the huge one with a view we served punch and cookies in during the tour a few weeks back, but nice nonetheless. Nurse tells us she tried to get us a better one, but they were all taken. But really, it’s fine—bed, table with chairs, bathroom, TV—what else could we ask for? Oh yeah, all those random medical devices plus the thing the stick babies in right after their born. Check. Got those too.
It still doesn’t seem real though—this is the place where it’ll all happen? It’s sort of crazy to think we’re walking into a room that we’ll be walking out of with a baby. And as I think those fleeting thoughts, it’s starts to become more real. No more time for introspection, because as soon as it seems the nurse leaves she comes in again. More tests.
I really should be paying attention to all this tests, no? But it’s too much to keep up with. I’m going to assume these professionals know what they’re doing. OK, time to pay attention. Mindy’s blood pressure is low…or is it high? Well, it’s one or the other. No big deal they say.
I step out to place calls to the fam to let ‘em know we’re in the hospital, but stay put, and we’ll call when it’s time. Except my mom—she’s fine to start her four and a half hour drive down from Youngstown, but she’s to head to our house. This message is difficult to convey to Mindy’s mom. Although I know Mindy informed her of the specific protocol, she tries to talk me into giving her permission to head to the hospital. I play dumb to her game and tell her we don’t want her to miss work and she’d be better off staying put. Pretty sure she gets the message.
Around this time we finally meet the doctor that’ll be delivering our bundle of joy. We’d never met him because Mindy’s doctors do everything but the delivery portion of the process. Don’t know if I knew that before today. Either Mindy didn’t know that either, or she told me and I forgot. The doc’s old and sort of abrupt, but for some reason, I’m comforted by this. He has this aura of competence, which of course, I like. Don’t know Mindy’s thoughts, but one thing is for sure, she’ll have to get comfortable with a male Ob/Gyn real quick.
OK, doc says we got to keep watching that blood pressure thing and gets Mindy hooked up to oxygen. Over the course of the next hour or two, the nurses turn Mindy from one side to the other and various other positions and are constantly taking her off and on oxygen. I’m pretty sure they’re saying this has something to do with that blood pressure thing, but I’m having trouble paying attention. I’m just getting nervous and thank God for what a trooper Mindy is.
All the while Mindy’s contractions seem to be taking more and more of her breath away. She shows slight grimaces, but she’d never let on if she was truly hurting that badly. Our nurse says not to worry, she’s going to lobby the doc to give permission for the epidural. It may be slightly early, but she thinks she can talk him into it. Doesn’t our nurse have other patients? It feels as if she’s been exclusively with us the entire time we’ve been here.
Nurses are ordering Thai for lunch. I put in six bucks for my Paad Thai, nothing but ice chips for Mindy. Would it be wrong to eat in front of her? Next visit from the doc and the nurse pushes hard for the shot and the doc finally caves. Twenty minutes later I gladly accept the anesthesiologist’s dismissal…I’d probably pass out if they let me stay in the room for that. Head to the empty waiting room. TV’s on Fox News, and I listen to not one word they say. Don’t think I’d even notice if the ticker read that Canada declared war on North Dakota.
Check on Mindy, she’s feeling fine. Just embarrassed because now that she’s back on oxygen and the nurses’ whole continuous re-positioning routine starts back up again, she can’t feel her legs. Thus, the process has become significantly more difficult. But pretty much suddenly this rigmarole ceases. Her blood pressure’s stabilized and she’s off oxygen. Head to the nurses station and pick up my lunch, which turns out to be something that’s quite certainly not Paad Thai, good though.
Now, we wait.
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