Hi, everyone.
So I thought I write a quick little synopsis of what happened, but ended up with a novel. Sorry about that. Here are the "at a glance" facts:
Grant Kenneth Jacobson
6 lbs. 6 ounces.
19 inches.
4-5 week early
discharged from hospital after two days.
Here's the novel...
Saturday night, Nov. 10, Melanie and I were finishing a nice, if not rushed, dinner at Jerry's Famous Deli in South Coast Metro, right before the Tango Buenos Aires performance at the Orange County Performing Arts Center. She got up from the table and shot a surprised/embarrassed look at me, "I think I need to use the restroom".
"Could it be?...", I asked.
"No, I don't think so...I think I just..." followed by another embarrassed look. "We need to get to the show, though. I'll just use the restroom there".
"Uhh...OK".
We get in the car and drive the 1 mile to Seegerstrom Hall. 30 minutes into the performance, Melanie leans over and whispers "Contraction".
Well, I know not to panic, since she's been having the Branston-Hicks contractions for over a month now. We're both cool as a pair of cucumbers.
Ten minutes later...
"Another one...Why don't you time them".
I'm only too happy to obliged since I'm still fairly obsessed with the chronometer on the fancy, new, more-than-she-should-have-paid-for, Swiss watch my wife bought me just two months ago.
After the fourth contraction, we are both racking our brains trying to remember what we had learned from our childbirth classes. When do you call the hospital again? Was it 4 contractions in an hour? 6 in two hours?
The show finished up and between discussions of how the dancers worked better during the one-couple-on-the-stage numbers as opposed to the choreographed multiple couples numbers and how the live tango band was were the real stars of the show, I offered:
"How about we call the hospital on the way home?"
"No, they'll just tell me to come in, and it's no big deal."
"Uhh...OK".
We got home around 10 pm, and saw that James and his Aunt Amy Lou were still up. Amy Lou had come down from Utah the day before to attend her sister, Melanie's baby shower that day. She took James to see Bee Movie, while Melanie and I went on our weekly date. We let Amy Lou put her nephew to bed, but informed her that something "might be going on" with Melanie, but that we'd keep her posted. Melanie hit the bed and cashed out in seconds, I went downstairs to email my old elementary/jr high/high school friend Steve, who I'd just been put back in contact with two nights previous. I finished and went to bed.
Around 1 AM, she woke me up, "It happened again".
"So do you think your water broke?"
"I don't think so."
"Why don't we call the hospital and tell them what's going on?"
"No, I don't think it's anything really. We'll see if it happens again."
"I'm not going to be able to sleep unless we call."
"OK, we'll call."
After fifteen minutes of checking through our Kaiser materials, and checking the site online, we finally located the right number to call.
"When the 'real time' comes, we should make sure this number is easily accessible."
"Yeah, that'd be smart."
Melanie described her symptoms, putting the most I-know-this-is-really-nothing-and-I'm-just-wasting-your-time-and-mine spin on it.
"They said to come in."
"Uhh...OK."
Then I offered, "You know, this will be good. It'll be our "trial run". That way we'll know what we forgot and make sure to remember when the "real thing" happens."
I packed our Kaiser materials, a change of clothes, and bunch of snacks, and we were off.
"This is sooooo stupid. They are just going to send us back!" she said.
"Better safe than sorry, though."
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Plus, this is a great practice run. In fact, I'll time it," I said as I reset the fancy chronometer on my fancy, new, more-than-she-should-have-paid-for, Swiss watch.
"What if we were having the baby...That'd be crazy!"
"Yeah, but it's too soon."
"Remember what the midwife said, though. On Monday we'll be at 35 weeks, and they won't even try to stop the delivery and that point."
"Yeah, that'd be crazy if we were having a baby tonight."
"Yeah, but we're not, so..."
We get to the hospital and the nurse does the litmus paper style test.
"Well, it doesn't look like amniotic fluid from this test."
"See, I told you, it's nothing."
"But the doctor will be here in a few minutes."
"See, it was a good practice."
"I'm a little sad though, I was kind of hoping this was it."
"Oh, well. We'll be here again in a few more weeks."
"You, know, why don't you find the nurse and have them just skip the pelvic. I'm mean, what's the point?"
But apparently, at Kaiser you don't get out of a pelvic exam that easily. After 15 minutes the OB/GYN came in and examined her.
"Well, you guys are having a baby."
"Thanks, doc, what gave it away, the big stomach or the cravings for Hostess Mini Chocolate Donuts and Haagen Daas Caramel Cone Ice Cream?!?!"
"No, your waters broke. I'm admitting you. You're having this baby today or tomorrow."
If it's possible to have a blank look and an excited look at the same time, that's the look Melanie had.
So at 2:30 AM she was admitted and around 3:00 AM she was in her own labor and delivery room. Around 7 AM (Sunday morning) she was put on Potosin.
Melanie's sister, Amy Lou, took little James to my parents' house where my dad watched him, then she came out to support her sister. My mom and Aunt Beth came out a little later. Around 10 or 11 am, the medical staff noticed that the baby was being distressed during contractions, so they cut the potosin, and let Melanie's body see if it could continue the contractions without the extra boost.
Oh yes, lest I forget, as soon as Melanie was put in the labor and delivery room, they ran an IV and gave her penicillin every 4 hours to fight a possible infection due to her waters being broken. Every new dose got worse with the most incredible burning and stingy sensation in her arm starting at the IV needle and spreading through her entire arm (mental note: next baby, we tell the medical staff that she is allergic to penicillin...maybe one of the other antibiotics won't sting as much). During the whole labor and delivery process, Melanie will tell you that by far the worst pain she felt was from the penicillin in her IV.
A few hours after cutting off the potosin, and verifying that the baby was fine, and also verifying that Melanie's labor was not progressing quickly enough (she was at a 1.5 centimeters by this time), they decided to put her back on potosin. The reason they were anxious to expedite the delivery was because she was going on 24 hours of having her water break, and the risk of infection climbs dramatically after 24 hours. The nurses kept asking if she wanted the epidural yet. Her contractions were spiking off the chart, yet she didn't find them unbearable yet. Or perhaps more to the point, her pain to epidural ratio had not kicked in yet. See, Melanie hates needles. Not the pain of the needle, but the thought of the needle. It's a mental anguish thing. And so her equation looked something like this: when the pain of three successive contractions exceed the mental anguish of a needle being poked into your spinal column, then and only then is it time for the epidural.
Around 6:30 PM, the midwife came in again.
"Are you sure you don't want the epidural yet, sweetie?" (about 50% of all Kaiser nurses and midwives call you "sweetie")
"No, not yet."
"OK, but let me tell you the anesthesiologist that we all like is going off duty at 7:00 PM."
"That's OK."
"I don't think you understand. This guy is good!"
"Who comes in next?"
"I can't say. It's a bit political. But trust me, you want this guy!"
"Can I have five minutes to think about it?"
"Sure."
We discussed it and finally Melanie asked my opinion. My philosophy is that whatever she wanted, I would support her and keep my opinion to myself, but if/when she'd ask my opinion I would give it to her straight.
"What do YOU think I should do?"
"Get it now."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"OK."
Within ten minutes that anesthesiologist came in. I knew Melanie would see through (and possibly be offended) by any patronizing "It's going to be OK" type stuff. And I knew her opinion of the cheesy breathing exercises we learned in class. So my only resource was distraction.
"Alright, Melanie, your going to feel a like bee sting," he said.
"OK, Melanie, name all the countries in South America," I said.
"Argentina...Chile...Brazil..."
"Good, good"
"Paraguay...Uruguay..."
"Nice."
"Bolivia"
"Good one."
"..."
"Where'd I serve my mission"
"Peru... .... ....""
This one is named after the discoverer of the America"
"Columbia."
"This on is..."
"Venezuela."
"This one has the equator running through it."
"Equador."
"OK, these last three are very small and always overlooked."
"..."
"It was a French Colony.
It has the word "French" in it."
"French Guyana."
"And the other does not have the word "French"..."
"Guyana."
"This last one was a Dutch colony."
"Suriname."
"Great....OK...Central American Countries".
"Mexico..."
(OK, maybe you know that technically Mexico is part of North America, but trust me, you don't correct your wife when she's got a huge needle sticking out her back.)
"Good."
"Panama, Guatemala, Costa Rica, Honduras"
"Nice."
"..."
"This one is the only one where English is the official language...It was called British Honduras."
"DONE!" said the doctor.
"That was fast!" we both said.
"The answer was Belize, by the way."
"Oh yeah, Belize..."
Within minutes her back pain, hip pain, tailbone pain, we all dissipating. Her whole countenance had changed. She looked very relaxed.
A few more hours went by...slowly.
Around midnight the nurse came in and checked on things.
"Well, you're almost there. We're going to get ready."
Before we knew it, it was push time.
"Push. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. Breathe. Push. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. Breathe. Push. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. Breathe. Good Job," said the nurse.
"Are you going to delivery the baby, then? Not the midwife."
"We'll see. The midwife is with another woman in labor."
"Oh. Have you done this before?"
"Yep. Lots."
"OK."
After about 20 minutes the midwife came. She started out gentle enough, but after the baby's head was caught for about three contractions, she became amazingly not gentle and didn't even wait for the next contraction. She dug her fingers into the baby skull like is was a partially deflated football."STOP!! YOU CAN'T FREAKIN' DO THAT!!! IT'S A FREAKIN' BABY!!!" I screamed in my mind. But I just had to trust that she knew what she was doing. In few seconds she had dug his head out and they cleared his lungs, then a couple seconds later his whole body just slid right out. His shoulders were folded over such that they seemed to touch each other and I thought "Oh great! His shoulders are all popped out of socket. Nice job doc!" But he was fine. He was placed on Melanie's stomach and I was handed the scissors to cut the cord. I had watched enough House/ER/Grey's Anatomy to know exactly what I was doing so I cooly cut the cord and handed the scissors back, handles forward even.
He weighed in at 6 lbs. 6 oz. and measured 19" long. For 5 weeks early, he was as heavy and long as many full term babies. The pushing lasted 40 minutes. He was named Grant Kenneth Jacobson. Grant after the prophet and apostle, Heber J. Grant and also a good friend of the family, Grant Williams. Kenneth, after his father, and grandfather, and great-grandfather, and generations of my family line that carried the name Kenneth (or Canute as it is in Norwegian) either as a first or middle name.
It was 1 AM Monday morning. Nov 12, 2007. Exactly one year ago to the day we were in another hospital watching Melanie's dad slowly transition out of this mortal existence. We had a 24 hour tag team rotation, and we had just tagged in Melanie's brother, Jaime and his girlfriend, Nadine. A few hours later, we received the call that he had passed. When the cosmic coincident occurred to us, we felt it a blessing that the day that threaten to be an annual day of solemnity, could now be a day of celebration. We could easily picture Wayne up there, beeming, and bragging that his new grandson was born on the same date he died. I can't think of anyone who would take quite as much pleasure in that odd kind of coincidence.
Because baby Grant was so early, the NICU team was on hand. They gave him the OK, and said he didn't have to go to NICU.
Over the next two days we were told his oxygen level wasn't quite high enough, nor was his glucose level nor his temp. But they assured us that was to be expected and would improve over the next day or two. They ended up taking him to the NICU for a day (since the nursery nurses are more comfortable with normal glucose/oxygen/temperature babies). He was fine after one day, but then they noticed his jaundice (also to be expected). So they kept us another day. This time he was in our room in the isolette with the UV lamp on him. On Wedensday evening, mother and child were discharged from the hospital. They next day we were told his biliruben count (indicate jaundice) was up and that he'd need to be on the "biliblanket" at house. Though, cumbersome, and slightly unnerving, it was still preferable to being in the hospital. On Sunday the test came back saying his count was going down that that he was discharged from home health care.
If I were to try and explain everything I've felt, I would never be able to mail this off to you. I just stare at Grant in awe. My friend Steve Lang often says that newborn babies "bring our Heavenly Father's love with them from Heaven". I always thought I knew what he meant, but only now do I really know what he means. Mine friend Parker describes it this way "everything the baby touches just seems purified and clean, it's like your whole home has been baptized." This only approaches what I've been feeling... ~Kenny