Happy Birthday Baby Boy!

Jack’s birth story isn’t like the girls’ birth stories. There are chunks of time missing in my memory, there was no laughing or comic relief, things were calm, all business. On February 8th we gathered our bags, held Laynie and Josie tight for as long as we could, sent them off with Grandma and Grandpa, then headed downtown to meet our son. We were waiting on a call to tell us to come be admitted. We stopped at Chili’s for dinner; we don’t really like Chili’s, but it was fast and easy. It was getting late, so we booked an Air B&B close to the hospital to rest while we waited. It was the strangest complex and was pretty sketchy, but the inside of the condo was nice and clean. I remember the oddest, random details… the outdoor corridors inside the building, the blue towels in the bathroom, the comcast remote for the tv, the KFC trash in the parking lot next to the truck. It wasn’t long before I got the call to head up to the hospital. I remember getting in the car, then a chunk of time missing, parking in the garage and getting on the elevator, missing chunk, then finally being in my labor and delivery room with a sweet nurse handing me a gown to change into. She placed my IV… on the second try, and just after midnight they started me on Pitocin. I met my doctor, the resident assigned to my delivery, a man. I had been so nervous about the prospect of having a man deliver Jack. I’m a very shy and conservative person, I just felt more comfortable with a woman. But I knew I would get who I get, there’s no choosing a doctor with the maternal fetal medicine team at Texas Children’s Hospital. My worries of having a man had been plaguing me for two months. And here was the doctor I was given, a man, a handsome young man at that. But I was numb. It didn’t matter anymore. This was not a fun and beautiful delivery experience. It was medical and professional, and they would give my son the care he needed. I mostly slept, frequently interrupted. At 8 a.m. the doctor came in to check my progress; I was only 4 cm dilated, so he decided to break my water. I’ve never had my water bag broken without already having my epidural so that was strange, not painful but a different feeling. He said he would be back in at noon to check my progress. I decided to go ahead and get the epidural because if history told me anything things were about to speed up. The epidural made me nervous because with both girls I had a major blood pressure drop when I got it, like a scary drop. We made sure the anesthesiologist knew this. She decided to give me a little bit different medication that wouldn’t work as fast but would hopefully prevent that sudden drop. I wasn’t in terrible pain so I could wait out the relief if it meant no scary blood pressure drop, and it worked. The epidural kicked in not too long after that and I felt nothing, so I went back to sleep. Then at 11 am a contraction woke me up. I thought, wow that was a lot of pressure. I woke Kevin up and said, “I think I may need to call the nurse”, another contraction, “oh wow, yea that’s a lot of pressure, I need to call the nurse”. And the shivers started, yep it's definitely time. So, I called her and let her know; she popped her head in and said, “so you’re feeling a lot of pressure? Ok, I’ll let the doctor know.” The doctor was in the room one contraction later. He checked me to see how my dilation was progressing. He told me he wanted me to try and push with my next contraction. I was thinking he just wanted to have a better feel. I definitely had the urge to push and it felt good, so I happily pushed with my next contraction. The doctor then said, “ok, you’re 10 cm so we are going to start pushing. You called it, you progressed very fast after breaking your water!” What?! 10 cm? Start pushing? I was just asleep!!

Ok, here we go, time to meet our son. I started pushing. Kevin stood by me, ready to help when I needed it. I was so focused, so calm. I didn’t want to do this part; I didn’t want the pain. I wasn’t even going to get to hold my baby, there was no reward at the end of this. Looking back, I hate that I was in that headspace. I wish I could have been more hopeful and grateful, but I was just trying to survive. And I was trying to be very prepared for all the worst-case scenarios. So, I’m pushing but having a hard time making progress. Turns out Jack is sunny side up. The doctor attempts to turn him during a contraction. He’s not moving, I’ll have to deliver him this way, it will be harder but not overly risky. Another one of his team members came in, a nurse practitioner with experience. She wanted to be sure and get the baby turned. She gave it a try with another contraction. OW! Holy moly that hurt! What did she do?! “Ok that did it, he’s face down now” Oh, that’s what she did. Now my pushing is getting us somewhere. All the teams are called in. Suddenly the room was less quiet, there was a dozen or more medical professionals along with several types of machines I wasn’t sure of their purpose. This was the first delivery I didn’t have music playing. I wouldn’t have heard it anyways. I was so focused, concentrated. Nothing existed except for me and those contractions. Echoes of counting, blurs of encouragement. And then… oh I can feel him, there he is! 11:38 am on February 9th, 2021, our beautiful boy was born.

He cried out loudly like a perfectly healthy baby, his color was good, and a neonatal doctor quickly listened to his heart. She gave my doctor a nod and he place Jack Miles Binder on my chest. A blessing from God. A defibrillation to my heart. A tether. My son was here, and he was strong, and he held all of my heart in that tiny hand. They whisked him away. 7 pounds 10 ounces and 21 inches long. The room was shocked at his size, but immediately flew into action. Little bees buzzing across the room. Ow. They’re delivering the placenta. And all the parts after birth that no one talks about, the things that get drowned out by your warm baby on your chest.

But my Jack was 10 feet across the room getting an IV. 45 minutes later I’m patched up, cleaned up, and watching my baby from 10 feet away. He’s cried a lot, but he’s quiet now. The room is slowing down. Then Jack is ready, he’s got his IV and he’s all wrapped up tight. They bring him over to me and again I get to hold him. I had ignored any hope of being able to hold him, and here he was in my arms. I cried, and I kissed him, and I cried, and I breathed in every bit of his scent I could, and I cried more. My little warrior Jack.