One Year Late: Sarah's birth story (Hastily written; lacking in style; photos somewhat haphazard ... one beloved daughter)

 Funny to think that a year ago last night Dave and I were sitting in an upscale Italian restaurant in Pembroke having supper with the Bishop and the rest of the diocesan marriage prep team.  It was my due date with Sarah and I had packed a hospital bag just in case labour started while we were away.  My mother had arrived from Halifax and was at home watching the other children as we enjoyed this last evening away.  I was very pregnant and the bishop joked that I might need a police or ambulance escort.  Little did he know.

 I was slotted to give birth to Sarah at the hospital in Renfrew (an hour away from our town) under the watchful eye of our family physician who had delivered Isaac, Joseph and 'almost' Benjamin (the ER doctor ushered fast Ben into the world).  After arriving home from Pembroke I went to bed and hoped for a good night's sleep.  My wish was granted and I awoke the next morning feeling quite rested.  There were, however, a few twinges of labour here and there.  Dave and the older kids went to school and my mom, Isaac and I walked into town.  I remember that as we walked I began to have enough pain that I knew that labour would begin that day.  In fact, at one point, my hip felt as if it had popped out and I had to stand stalk still in front of Zurakowski Park as I waited for the ability to walk to return.  My mom looked a little nervous.  We made it home and Dave called throughout the day wondering if he should come home or not.  I kept telling him not to worry as I didn't want to head to the hospital too early and end up spending a sleepless and labour-free night in Renfrew as I had with Isaac.  I was pushing this little girl til the last minute.

 Afternoon turned to the end of the school day and supper preparation.  Labour was intermittent and I decided that I would try going to mass.  I think that Hannah came with me, only to find out that mass had been cancelled.  Instead I talked with a few people in the church parking lot and left with promises of prayer.  I crossed off my attempt at mass and headed home for supper.  After eating I went for a walk around our neighbourhood with just Isaac in the stroller.  I wanted one last walk with him as the baby of the family.  He was completely unaware of the poignancy of the moment.  Throughout the walk contractions were strong enough to cause me to stop and lean over the stroller but they were still irregular.  Thus, I put the stroller in the garage and Isaac to bed.  Dave was tutoring on-line from 5:30-9:30pm.  I told him to keep working until I absolutely needed to go.  My mother and I settled on the couch to watch a movie, The Painted Veil.  I had always secretly harboured a desire to watch a movie while in labour and I was excited to finally be able to do so.

 I can't remember how much of the movie we watched before I had to go to the bathroom.  My mother had been timing the contractions but they were so irregular (11 mins, 22 mins, 15 mins etc.) that we had both lost track.  By this point, 8:30pm, I was beginning to lose hope that this little baby would arrive at a decent hour!  Back to the bathroom:  I got up from the couch and coughed.  My first thought was, "Oh great, I just peed myself!"  And then I realised that my water had broken.  Within seconds my contractions began to be strong, regular and very close together.  I went to the front room to tell Dave who sent off a quick email to his supervisor who later told him that Dave wasn't the first tutor to leave a shift early due to childbirth.  And then we had an argument.  Dave wanted to drive straight to Renfrew as fast as possible and deliver under the care of our family physician.  I also wanted to end up at Renfrew but I felt that we should stop at our local hospital, 5 mins. away, just to see how far I had progressed.  I didn't want to deliver on the road and I had a secret hope that the Barry's Bay hospital would just let me stay and deliver locally as they sometimes do in emergencies.  So, we drove to our local hospital.  I remember walking up to the triage in complete control until the nurses looked up and, realising that I was in labour, registered a look of shock.  That was when I started to cry and they ushered me quickly into a room.  A nurse took my vitals and the ER doctor, a Russian neurosurgeon, walked into the room and in a thick accent said, "We don't deliver."  I told her that I knew that and that I only wanted to be checked to see if we could make it to Renfrew.

 She agreed and performed an internal check:  5 cm., baby's head unengaged.  She seemed to think that I had a way to go before delivery.  I, however, knew differently having gone from 5-10cm in 10 minutes with Benjamin and having pushed Joseph out at 6 cm.  I can't remember if I said any of this but   I suddenly began to feel quite scared.  She kept asking me why I wanted to go to Renfrew since there is no obstetrical back-up there.  I tried arguing that we always deliver in Renfrew but she decided that she wanted to send me to Pembroke.  I remember a real sense of peaceful resignation coming over me and that I just needed to do what this doctor was telling me.  (Strangely enough she was the same doctor who sent Isaac by air ambulance to CHEO.  Dave concluded that she handles all emergencies by sending the patients away.)
I hadn't quite realised that I was going to be sent to Pembroke by ambulance; I think I thought that Dave was going to drive me there.  However, the understanding soon dawned on me and my world felt like it was crashing.  I couldn't be without Dave; I couldn't labour with strangers.  But I would have to.

The paramedics arrived and they loaded me in the back of the ambulance with a nurse and the Russian doctor.  Dave closed the doors of the ambulance and nodded and smiled as if to tell me that I would be OK.  The nurse asked me to tell her whenever I had a contraction and I told her that I am always silent while in labour but that I would try and squeeze her hand.  That nurse proved a real Godsend as she held my hand through every contraction and was completely unafraid to be my advocate when the paramedics insisted that I wear an oxygen monitor on my finger or that they move me in the middle of a contraction.  I thank God for her.  The doctor, on the other hand, proved an entertaining distraction.  Apparently she suffers from car sickness.  Thus, she spent the majority of the hour's ride with her head in a bag asking how many more kilometres we had to travel.  This turned out to be quite handy as I was able to gauge where we were and how much longer until arrival at the hospital.  I prayed that the contractions would stay at 5 mins. apart as that meant that I only had 12 until Pembroke.  My prayer was answered and this was one of my first labours in which there was down time in between contractions.  I kept the mantra of "Jesus, I trust in You" in my head.  Despite my attempts at piety I distinctly remember about halfway through the ride realising that there were epidurals at Pembroke (unlike Renfrew) and my pious prayer changed abruptly to, "I want an epidural".

As we left Barry's Bay I felt incredibly alone.  I had no idea of how the night would play out and I felt completely at the mercy of others.   That was when I looked out the tiny back window of the ambulance and saw the glowing blue cross atop our church's steeple.  Up until that point I had always thought of that neon cross as slightly tacky.  Never again.  My last sight of home was the cross and a deep peace born of knowing that I was not alone came over me.
To make a long story short, we made the hour's drive in around 50 minutes.  (Dave did the same via a different route and one feline mortality.)  About 5 minutes from the hospital the contractions began to lengthen and increase in severity.  About 15 minutes from arrival I had a clear understanding that I could deliver in the ambulance and I remember squeezing my legs shut.  We arrived by the back door and I was wheeled past the ICU and onto the elevator.  I recall coming off the elevator where we were greeted by three women who immediately took over.  I could hear them asking, "Who is this woman?  Do we have any paperwork?"  I had no idea if they were nurses, doctors or janitors.  I do know that I looked at them desperately and said, "I want an epidural!"  They replied, "Sure, honey, we'll get the doctor."  And then they moved at what felt like a snail's pace.
Within a minute of asking for an epidural I again looked at them and more desperately said, "I'm pushing."  They very clearly told me that I was not allowed to as there was still cervix present and I would tear badly.  I have never spoken back to any medical professional but I looked at that nurse and said with great emphasis, "I have to!"  She looked again and cheerily said, "Oh, cervix is gone.  Go ahead."
I began to push, Sarah crowned and then they told me to stop, stop, stop as the cord was tightly wrapped around her neck.  I stopped and Dave walked into the room.  Never before have I been so glad to see him.  The nurses cut the cord and out came Sarah.  Exactly six minutes after arriving at the hospital and one minute after her Daddy found his way from the van to the delivery room.  Perfect timing.  She didn't cry and had come so quickly that she was chock full of mucus.  The nurses and the respiratory therapist spent 45 minutes aspirating her and trying to make her angry so that she would cry and let them know that all was well.  Our rejoicing at her birth quickly turned to concern but, nearly an hour after her birth, she began to cry and we knew that she would be OK.  Sarah Elena weighed in at 8 lb 3 oz and was born at 10:46 pm delivered by two nurses.  (I remember asking if she was still a girl as I hadn't been completely convinced by the earlier ultrasounds and my gestational propensity for boys.)  The doctor arrived 15 minutes later, delivered the placenta and collected the easiest pay cheque he has ever received.  The end.

 Except for birthday pictures taken on the iPhone.  Poor little Sarah has a cold, just recovered from pink eye, is teething and has fallen victim to one of the worst black fly seasons that I have ever seen.  Her right eye only just returned to normal size...

 She was absolutely delighted by a plate filled with cupcakes and burning candles.

 We kept it at a safe distance.  We are so blessed by this little girl's life.  She is the longed-for sister who has found a warm and safe place in the hearts of each of her siblings.  A very good friend, upon finding out that I was pregnant with a girl, told me that Sarah would be the comfort of our old age:  I think that this comfort has started early.  Precious little girl, how we all love you.