(If you happened to miss last week's "My Story..." Monday post, you can find it- and part 1 of this tale- right here.)
I truly think the head of high risk obstetrics was a tad irritated with the fellow who was so candid with me. (Oh, and just in case you've never been at a large teaching hospital and don't know the difference between all the labels... just know that a "fellow" is a doctor who has completed his residency and is now working on a sub-specialty... e.g. this particular doctor was a full-fledged OB/GYN already and was doing further work in the field of high-risk obstetrics. Does that make sense?) Anyway, I LOVED that doctor, but I think he was perhaps a little too direct to fit in well "politically" at a large hospital. My husband and I appreciated his guidance and his refusal to hide behind wishy-washy suggestions.
I asked to sign the papers.
Before I could, the OB head turned to the fellow and asked,
"Are you sure there are absolutely no parts of the baby that have already descended into the vaginal canal?"
"I didn't see any in the ultrasound..."
"But are you SURE?" she insisted, eyebrows raised.
"I didn't see anything," he repeated calmly, "but I would appreciate if you double-checked."
She did. The baby was still completely contained in my uterus.
They handed me a paper and a pen and I scrawled off a quick signature.
If I thought things had been moving quickly before, there are no words for the speed at which things happened from then on...
I am not exaggerating when I tell you that one of the nurses took the pen from me with one hand and inserted another IV with the other. The second nurse inserted a catheter while a lab tech drew blood from the arm opposite the one getting the new IV. I had absolutely no anesthesia or numbing for the catheterization and I'm not ashamed to tell you that I cried. It was blessedly quick but intensely painful.
Just as soon as those things had been done, they started rolling me out the door. One of the nurses tossed scrubs at my husband and told him she'd be back for him. I grabbed his hand on the way out the door and whispered,
"Our baby's going to be born on Christmas Eve..."
"I know," he replied.
"If it's a girl... I think her middle name should be Noelle."
He nodded, "Whatever you want, hon."
I could probably have asked for anything at that precise moment.
I just wanted her middle name to reflect the spirit and wonder of the holiday on which she was about to arrive..
And so it does.
to be cont...