Birthday Eve

Tomorrow is a very big day in the Grunsted household. Bubsy is turning one! No exclamatory phrase I might use to describe the big day is going to do justice to what's happened in the last year. Or do justice to the drama surrounding how he got here.

A year ago today Valerie was 38 weeks pregnant. Bubsy had quit cooperating with the non stress tests several weeks earlier so we were doing weekly ultrasounds to check on him. Until April 3rd, the tests had been uneventful.

On this day, we went about our routine. Valerie laid on the table; I sat next to her, holding her hand. The ultrasound tech put the lotion on Valerie's tummy and turned to the screen to check Bobby's movement. Almost immediately, she stood up and ran from the room saying she needed to get a doctor. I asked what was wrong. "His heart rate is 63," she said with a shaking voice. A soon to be born baby's heart rate should be well into the 100s.

Valerie and I sat, waiting, not saying a word. All I could think was that we were going to lose Bobby. After all the excitement, the worry about his heart condition, the fear about the Down Syndrome, he would never be born. My heart went blank.

The tech came back with a doctor. He calmly checked the fetal heart rate - it was now 110. "He must be lying on the umbilical cord," he said. "That's what controls the heart rate."

"There's an 80% chance you're not leaving the hospital pregnant," he told us. My fear subsided as he explained that the situation was not critical, but at 38 weeks, why take a chance?

Valerie was wheeled to the labor floor, where we were placed in an observation unit and our ob/gyn, Dr. Saleh was paged. He was on call that night, a blessing for us because he did not just show up minutes before the birth but was close by all night.

Valerie was hooked up to various monitors and we sat and we waited. At that point, I had no idea that I'd spend much of the next year staring at the blips and waves of various monitors. Things calmed. Bobby's heart rate settled into the mid 100s. I began to think we'd be part of the 20% that got sent home. Then, the heart rate on the monitor dipped againg, right back in the 60s.

Immediately, Valerie's bed was surrounded by doctors and nurses. I stood just outside watching. She was moved from one side to the other as they worked to free the umbilical cord. A nurse placed an oxygen mask over Valerie's mouth, telling her to 'breathe for your baby'. And then as suddenly as it had fallen, the heart rate went back up.

Dr. Saleh arrived at the hospital then, calmly assessed the situation and offered, 'how'd you like to have a baby today'. His demeanor brought me back from the brink. A few minutes later our labor nurse, Lynn, came in and introduced herself. To me she said, 'Try not to panic'. I suppose the stench of fear was all over me.

We were given a labor room and Valerie got a shot of Pitosin to start contractions. The labor itself is really her story to tell. She was brave. I did my best to help. And Bobby's heart rate kept falling. All through the evening into the early hours Lynn came into the room every time his heart rate fell, repositioning Valerie until things stabilized. The stress of the heart rate fluctuations amid Valerie's contractions was nerve wracking - I wanted Bobby here. I wanted a C-section. But I kept thinking of Lynn's words of wisdom 'try not to panic'.

Around midnight Valerie asked for an epideral. That turned out to be the thing that kept us from a C-section, I think. She relaxed when she got the shot and Bobby took a breather as well. I stared at more monitors. For several hours all was quiet while Valerie finished her contractions.

At 6 am Dr. Saleh decided it was time to push. Suddenly, our lonesome little labor room was filled with nurses and neonatologists. Lynn's shift was up which made me sad - after spending the night helping us, she missed the big moment.

And it was a big moment. Valerie pushed and screamed. I encouraged her every time she pushed but I could tell she was only listening to Dr. Saleh and the occasional encouragment he gave her after a particularly fruitful push. She knew he was getting her to the end. Bobby's head was soon visible. Amazing. And then at the last minute his heart rate dipped one last time. "He has to come now," Dr. Saleh said, and he called for the vacuum. That worked the first time, Bobby, cone head and all came out, wrapped in a tiny ball. He let out a wonderful cry.

Immediately he was passed to the neonatologist, surrounded by her students. I stood by Valerie, waiting and watching Bobby, amazed at how big he looked once he was stretched out. And I looked to see if he had Down Syndrome. We had been told our changes were greater than 50/50 and in our hearts Valerie and I both believed he had Ds, but still, I hoped. I heard the neonatologist reciting symptoms to her students, 'short appendages, flat nose, low muscle tone...' One of the students was looking at me pitingly. It pissed me off. "Don't pity me on the day my son is born," I thought.

I walked over to the doctor. "Does he have Down Syndrome?" I asked.

"He has the signs, yes," she answered.

"That's what we thought," I answered, smiling.

I gave the news to Valerie who absorbed it without a reaction. She was too busy watching as the nurses brought Bubsy to her. She held him face to face for a few moments. The sun of the new day shined on them both. All I could think of was that he looked exactly like his mama. Beautiful. Then away he went.

Echos and exams filled his next few hours. Valerie and I made our phone calls. A new neonatologist visited us, telling us that Bobby was doing well, given his circumstance. Still, it was very scary. A new baby is scary enough. A sick new baby that just kept us up all night worrying about his heart rate...that's a new level of terror. In the face of feeling hopeless to help his medical condition we decided to have him baptized. Whatever else about his future was out of his control, we could make sure we did that for him.

So, the first time I ever held Bobby was the afternoon of April 4th, when I held him as he was baptized. That's a very precious memory to me, welcoming him to our family and the world of faith at the same time. Doing that for my son made me feel like a parent for the first time.