Nina's first day

Nina's Birth
An epic poem
By papa Ben

June 3rd, 2010
5:47 am
7 pounds, 3 ounces
21 inches

Nina Sophia Bonnes Perls was born on Thursday. We hade been waiting for this day for many years, having picked Sophia as a baby name over ten years before. It has been a long journey with many twists and turns, just like her birth.

It all began 28 hours before. Rachel woke me from sleep to tell me that she thought her water had just broke. There was a little bit of uncertainty in her voice and so I provided my assessment of the situation. 9 months pregnant, days from her due date, strange fluid leaking, yup probably amniotic fluid.

How can you sleep after news like that? Well, I certainly couldn't. Rachel, wise to the impending events, took the time to put some sleep in the bank. I took some Benadryl and went to work in the garage at 2 am, putting the finishing touches on her fifth anniversary present until the drugs kicked in.

Overnight, Rachel began to have mild contractions that continued into the morning, although they remained relatively mild and we opted to enjoy a glorious breakfast of cornmeal blueberry pancakes, home fries smothered in pesto, scrambled eggs, eggs over easy, toast and OJ. Then we took Lucy on one final walk before her status would forever change, of which she was blissfully unaware.

By mid afternoon, 16 hours after rupture of membranes, Rachel's contractions had not progressed and were actually becoming less frequent. Dr. Sandhu asked us to come in for induction so that our little Nina could come out before the risk of infection became too great. Ah, Pitocin...

We arrived at Alta Bates, saw several running staff push a gurney into the OR for an emergent C-section, passed the sniff test (yes, it really was amniotic fluid) and moved from triage to a birthing room. There we met Samantha, our first fantastic labor and delivery nurse. She got Rachel all plugged in, literally. IV placed, fluids running, Pitocin drip started, and the cool, ultra-techie, wireless contraction and fetal heart rate monitors. Now we can go for a walk. Unburdened by cords, we had the freedom to roam the halls. That lasted all of about ten minutes. Who were we kidding? There is a reason they call this labor.

Back in our room we were quickly occupied with some pretty strong contractions (hey, I was the breathing coach!). This is where I first became aware of Rachel's awesome power. Little did I know that the awe would only grow as the night progressed. After four hours of building intensity, the pain began to overwhelm the mental gymnastics and Rachel was in desperate need of some relief. Again, thank you Pitocin...

Then came the amazing Dr. Goldman. In between contractions, and in less time than it takes to get your orange mocha frappuccino, Rachel had a perfectly placed epidural that gave her some much needed relief, while still retaining control of her legs. Time for pictures! Oh, and a couple hours of sleep. Now that's a bizarre experience. Thank you Apple. Finally apps that run in the background...multitasking at it's greatest!

Now for the first unanticipated bump in the road. Just after midnight, 23 hours into this journey, we were due for a routine stir of the oxygen tanks. As luck would have it, a break relief nurse came in to check her dilation. Placed on her back for the check, as is quite common, she quickly began to feel unwell. Of course this began just after the nurse left the room. Short of breath, dizzy, nauseated, pale, diaphoretic and very frightened, Rachel began to panic a little. Worried that she had become hypotensive, I cycled the blood pressure machine and called for staff. By the numbers, Rachel appeared to be ok, but baby was having trouble. The fetal monitor showed that her heart rate had slowed from the usually perky 120s down into the very concerning 70s. It stayed there. By then there were several nurses in the room. Rachel was turned first onto one side, then the other, then onto her hands and knees, all in an effort to improve blood flow to baby. There was no effect, the speakers continued to broadcast their slow ominous warning. Closest to the head of the bed, I was asked to push the code button on the wall. More staff. Dr. Sandhu was called in from home, then the on call OB doc was paged emergently to the room. Images of the many high speed gurney runs to the OR that I had seen during training flashed before my eyes. Was Rachel ok? Would she need to have a crash C-section?

Mom and baby ultimately recovered. The code team disbanded, and Dr. Sandhu arrived. She didn't leave the room until Nina was born, five hours later. She and Jeffie, our nurse, provided excellent coaching and support throughout it all. Those were some pretty intense hours too. The epidural became lighter so that she could feel contractions, giving her the opportunity to experience the wonder of Pitocin yet again, and again, and again, every 3 minutes...

This is when I truly began to understand Rachel's power. With every contraction she became a little ball of muscle, pushing our Nina toward her new life. I couldn't help but picture Kevin's Air Force centrifuge runs, fighting all those G forces, straining to keep blood in his brain. Breathe! Look at the red line! Breathe! Stay with me! Breathe! For hours upon hours she gave every single contraction her full strength, 3-4 monstrous pushes every few minutes. Amazing. As the pain became unbearably intense she began to question her ability, but she kept on pushing and got it done. Nina was born at 5:47 am, 28 hours after her water broke, and after five hours of physical exertion the likes of which I had never seen.

Exhausted, mom and baby were reunited and enjoyed a few minutes of peace while I cut the cord and everyone else scurried around the room finishing up with the details. Our little girl was so adorable with her super cone head, and tiny, Geiger counter voice. Not one to go quietly through the world, she would soon develop a rather strong voice to go along with a very strong will.

On her first day, Nina learned some very good skills. Nursing, crying, self calming, and the fine art of melting grand parents. This is, perhaps, her specialty.