The Occasional Observer

In case anyone didn't hear about it, the Mrs. and I welcomed our daughter into the world on Saturday morning, 8/22/09, at 10:50 AM. It certainly wasn't a typical labor.

Strawberry Girl woke up at 8:00 saying she was having a lot of contractions, but that she figured it was a false labor. She'd wait it out and thought it would subside. I kept the boys company for breakfast and checked in every 15-20 minutes with her as she was resting upstairs. She said lying down made the contractions less painful and she didn't want the boys to see her in pain. She said she was going to take a shower, and when she got out I checked on her again, and she said she was going to "do her hair." Ah ha! "You think we're going to the hospital today, don't you?", I asked. Yes, she said. "I'm not sure what time, but we're going today."

"Are you timing your contractions, I asked?" She says she can't see the clock from the bed. I get her my watch.

Around 10:00 she comes downstairs. I'd dressed the boys, started getting them a snack, and had told my mother to come over. We just needed to wait for her arrival and we could go.

Just after that, the missus tells me, "the contractions are coming pretty regularly. I'm worried we waited too long." What!?! I tell her to get in the van, because she's between contractions. I'll get the bags.

I get the bags in the van and finish with the boys snack. I try my Mom's cell, and get voice mail. Call my Dad at the office (only about 1.5 miles away). "Hey Pop, we need to go the hospial."

"You're Mother's on the way over."

"I know. We need to go now."

"I'm on my way."

Dad gets to the house, and we exchange greeting on the front lawn as I head to the van. S.G. and I leave Bethpage about 10:25. I start ripping up 107 and get to a long red light at 107 and S. Oyster Bay Road. I try to go into oncoming traffic to pass, but end up coming to a stop, as I end up my-front-bumper-to-his-front-bumper with a car that was making the left onto 107 South. Another car, turning in the lane next to him, keeps me from going around. Traffic starts to pile in behind these cars, and the horns start to erupt. Finally I weave thru, well ahead of the light changing. As I continue to blow lights and slalom up 107, my cell rings:

"I don't know what you think you're doing driving like THAT, but you're not going to get to the hospital at all with that kind of driving. I was at that intersection, you know."

"Thanks Mom, gotta go."

I got all the way up 107, and turned Westbound onto Old Country. At this point, S.G. is barely able to talk because of the intensity of the contractions. I call the hospital, and after getting transferred a few times, I tell them we're on the way in, and I think my wife is going to be delivering soon, so get a room ready. The nurse later tells me they get these calls all the time, so she didn't think much of it.

After continuing with some fantastic driving stunts worthy of the French Connection, I finally managed to get us to the hospital in time for Strawberry Girl to give birth. Sort of.

S.G. had already informed me that the baby was crowning, just as we were passing the Barnes and Noble on Old Country Road on the way to Winthrop. She told me I needed to pull over right there to deliver. No way, I said. We're almost there. Figuring we were only about three minutes out, I told her, "don't push!" (I'm sure I'll get laughed at for that one later), and continued to weave between Westbound and Eastbound traffic, blowing every red light along the way. Thank goodness for that EVOC course.

By the time we got to Winthrop, I did a blowby past the security checkpoint, and pulled directly up to the E.R. door. I ran inside to get a wheelchair. As I entered the E.R., I announced to everyone and no one in particular that I needed a wheelchair to get my wife to labor and delivery. A security guard rushed down the hallway with me (and a wheelchair) towards my van. To my surprise, the missus was already walking into the hallway with another woman holding her arm. Just as I was telling her to get in the chair, she sort of folded to the hallway floor, and the woman with her said to me "I'm an EMT, and we need to deliver here."

It all happened pretty quick. The guard put over a transmission for a nurse. The nurse came out and shouted "code white." Then there were like ten people shouting "code white" and then the hall was filled with the whole E.R. staff (probably 30 people) within a minute. Strawberry Girl was about two to three feet from the sliding glass doors that are the entrance to the E.R. from the parking lot, but a bunch of security guards stood in front of the door with their backs to us to block the view, and they shooed away any pedestrians.

The medical staff delivered the baby, but she was practically half out already. I was scared to death when a nurse was asking for suction and they were all sitting around looking at each other like, "we don't have any suction." Luckily, the baby started crying a few moments later.

Finally, after the cord was clamped and cut, and the baby was being attended to by a gaggle of nurses, a nurse from the delivery wing showed up with a sealed package of sanitary linens. Just a bit late on that one.

They wheeled S.G. on a gurney, and the baby in a crib, down to the labor and delivery wing. As we were walking I called my parents.

Mom: "How's [S.G] doing? You think she'll deliver soon?"

Me: "She already delivered the baby. On the hallway floor in front of the E.R. You still think I was driving too fast?"

Mom: "Wow."

Anyway, there wasn't much for them to do in the delivery wing, but clean up the baby and the wife, and give her the pitocin to keep everything contracting and cleaning out. She thinks that stuff is from the devil. Seriously.

One of the nurses brought some paperwork to S.G.: "Do we have permission to deliver your child and provide treatment?" Heh.

Anyway, here are the most important details:

Mother and child are both doing very well, and should be released from the hospital tomorrow right on schedule.

If any of you haven't gotten my texts regarding the name and vitals, let me know, I'm happy to talk!