Liam's story

When Megan was three months, I told her birth story. Liam is three months old today, so here is his story. (warning: blood and labor stuff ahead).

It was President's Day weekend and my sister and her family were visiting. Friday was a long day at work for me and then we had a late night playing poker. We spent Saturday night watching a movie. Sunday I decided to do a little picking up while everyone else lounged around. While working I had a couple of contractions - no big deal, I had had a couple before. Just Braxton-Hicks stuff. I had a few more, but still, I figured, I was just tired or dehyrated, or more likely, both.

I went to rest on the couch. I figured I'd watch the end of the golf tournament and nap, but then Mac wanted me to help Megan get milk and a snack. I was totally annoyed with him for not letting me rest.

Right before dinner I mentioned to Mac that I had been having some contractions. Mr. Pessimism immidiately began panicking. At dinner, Mac had to share the news,"Pam, thinks she is in labor."

"No, I don't! I am just having some contractions," I explained calmly, as I tried to kick Mac under the table.

After dinner Mac kept asking me how I was doing. I was still having random weak contractions. "I'm going to get my watch." Mac made me page him on the phone intercom every time I had a contraction, while I was playing my favorite time waster, Spider Solitaire. The first interval was 22 minutes - eons in labor speak. Next was seven. Then back to 20. We both decided it was nothing except then I felt a little fluid. A bathroom check confirmed bloody fluid. I was sure my water had broken and so we were off to the hospital.

At the hospital, they kind of dilly dallied getting me admitted. Megan arrived 70 minutes after we got to the hospital, so I had my eye on the clock. Meanwhile I was leaking more bloody fluid.

After getting admitted, they asked for a urine sample. I poured the first attempt down the sink because it was just a cup of blood. The second cup was the same, but I didn't have to pee anymore, so I just handed it over. I stood up and dripped blood all over the floor. I tried to clean this up, but the nurse ushered me into bed. She was very calm, but made a point that she was going to go call the doctor and let him know how I was doing.

The whole time I thought my water was broken and I was losing amniotic fluid. The blood didn't concern me; labor is supposed to be bloody, right? In retrospect, It was pretty obvious something else was going on. It is, after all, called breaking your water, not breaking your blood. I know the nurse knew exactly what was happening, which is why she went to call the doctor to come in, even though I was only two centimeters dilated.

My water hadn't broken, instead I had a placental abruption. In other words, my placenta was prematurely separating from my uterus - an emergent situation for the baby as he could lose his intrauterine source of oxygen. The doc clued me in to what was going on as soon as he got there. Then he hemmed and hawed about the risks, about how long it would take me to deliver naturally, the dangers for Liam...blah, blah, blah.

"A C-section," I blurted, "You're saying I need a C-section." Somebody had to get to the point here.

"Yeah, I think it is too risky too wait and see what happens. You're baby is doing fine now and not showing signs of distress, but things could turn at any minute."

And just like that things went into overdrive. A medical army came rushing into the room. One nurse was putting in an I.V. and hanging fluids, one woman was unhooking all the baby monitors, another nurse swept Mac aside to get him gowned up and explain when he could go into the OR, the anesthesiologist was consenting me for the spinal while still another nurse was prepping me for surgery (read: shaving my lower half).

In a flash I was in the OR, under the bright lights, the spinal was in, and the doc was playing tug-of-war with my innards.

The anesthesiologists asked the baby's name. I told him between worried sobs. "Ok, guys," he announced, "let's get little Lillian out of there."

"It's not Lillian," I corrected, "It's Liam. It's a boy."

"Oh, Leland is a great name for a boy. It's a strong name. My son's middle name is Leland, named after his grandfather." I was too tired and scared to argue any more.

And then we heard a baby cry - a sweet, sweet sound because we knew it meant Liam was breathing. And then came the doc's reassuring words: "She looks great. She is doing really well."

WHOA! Mac and I stared at each other in wide eyed disbelief. A girl?? How could two ultrasounds be wrong? For heaven's sake, I had a spread eagle in utero crotch photo from one of the ultra-sounds, and let's just say you didn't need a medical degree to make out the sex!

"Oh, wait!" The obstetrician chimed in again."It's a boy! It's definitely a boy!"