It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon and I was sitting on the floor minding my own business. I was just paying the bills. I had one bill left when I noticed it. Nothing I had ever felt before, naturally, but it came none-the-less. At this point the baby’s room was in disarray; there wasn’t even a mattress in the crib. I had a checklist of items to take to the hospital, but nothing packed.
I called Ned and said: I think my water broke.
I called the hospital and they said: We’ll have the doctor call you.
I called my Mom and she said: You should eat something before you go to the hospital.
Dr. McCoy called and said: You may have peed yourself and not noticed, that sometimes happens with pregnant women.
Dr. McCoy called again and hour later and said: You better come in.
I said: Can I have dinner first?
By the time I arrived at the hospital I was full of embarrassment but not food. I couldn’t bear to eat much. No one had really told me how inconvenient it was to have your water break outside of the hospital. The first nurse started making arrangements to see if it was really my water that broke and not just a strange continual bladder leak. She was nearly frantic and told me that she sincerely hoped it was not amniotic fluid. I took comfort, despite her urgency, which I can only assume was Heaven-sent.
Finally after several tests they confirmed what we already knew: Jack was on his way 5 weeks early. Translation: I would not be having my baby in Indiana, PA.
Since I was not dilated at all I missed my one opportunity to fly in a helicopter to Pittsburgh. Instead, they ordered an ambulance to come. Since our parents could drive our vehicle to the hospital, Ned and I were able to ride in the ambulance together. The ambulance drivers arrived an hour or so later to take us on our trip (my first ambulance ride to date). Surprisingly, one of the women to come was a girl that I had met at orientation at IUP. Her name was Jess Lucas and it was a blessing to see her again. The other woman’s name was Jane. Jane was about 6’ tall and had a personality to match it.
As we were driving to the hospital, Ned and Jess up front and Jane and I in the back, I learned that Jane lived down the road from where I grew up. She vaguely knew of me, and I of her. She lived on the property that painted their barn to look like a cow, if you happen to live close to Brush Valley. She told me that she loved music and told me stories about other people she had taken care of in the past. When my mild contractions began she kept talking through them to distract me.
When we arrived at West Penn Hospital they wheeled me into the biggest birthing room I have ever seen. It was probably the length of my house, which may not be that impressive when thinking of houses, but when thinking of delivery rooms is luxury luxury luxury. I remember that the floors were dark and the television was the whole way across the room (which was longer than it was wide) making it difficult to watch.
I met the nurse named Amy and she told me that I was no longer allowed to get up from the bed, even to pee. GASP. Any amount of dignity that I was attempting to clutch hold of was at this point thrown into the wind like chaff. My parents and Ned’s parents left us (though I don’t think they left the hospital) through the major part of the night. I originally wanted to birth the baby naturally. This made me want to chuck something violently at the doctor on staff who would come into the room during my worst contractions to ask me if I was ready for my epidural yet.
I waited until her shift was over, and it was about 8 o’clock in the morning, to finally accept some kind of medicine. Originally I only okayed the Stadoll, but then I thought, what the heck, let’s get the whole deal. I was so tired by this point that I no longer wanted to brace myself for the pain. I just wanted to sleep, which is what the Stadoll supplied, despite the fact that I saw spots, bees and kittens playing under the furniture. Right as the drug was beginning to take effect a woman came in to discuss what concerns they had for Jack after he was born. A baby at 35 weeks sometimes still lacks the final crucial part of their body’s development – their lungs. I was far too sleepy and dopey to respond to her and only listened partially as I swept in and out of consciousness.
When I woke up again they told me that it was time for my epidural. The anesthesiologist told me what he was doing but I doubt I listened much because the only thing I said was, “Are you from the South?” At that point I realized I needed to keep my mouth shut because I was still under the influence of Stadoll. The epidural was the greatest relief and kept me comfortable until Jack decided to enter the world.
Jack Westley Brooks Kimmel was officially born at 3:15 PM on September 24, 2010 in the presence of about 10 hospital employees, Ned and my Mom (that big delivery room was full of people). I will spare some of the details here of the events that took place directly after his birth. Suffice to say that they were pretty frightening and in a way that I was simply not prepared for. Despite the hospital staff’s gentle warnings, I still did not expect anything to be wrong with Jack at all.
Once I was able to leave the delivery room we went to visit little Jack in the NICU. Nothing could have prepared me for the emotions I felt after seeing him hooked up to monitors and living in an isolette. Of course it didn’t help that I was exhausted from labor, but I’m sure my emotions would have been stretched regardless. I sat in my wheelchair in front of the NICU nurse and cried – and I mean literally – uncontrollably. It was somewhat embarrassing to show such emotion in front of a stranger, but like I said, I didn’t have much shame to hold on to by this point (not that I could have stopped if I had).
Ned and I returned to our hospital room, exhausted, forlorn and feeling an absolute unconditional love for our baby that neither of us had experienced before. I probably would have spent the rest of the night weeping, sobbing and falling into an emotional depression if God hadn’t sent us a sense of peace that could truly only come from Him. I told Ned that this was something that he and I needed to be together on, because events like this could either bring us closer together or it could rip us apart. Ned agreed, and I can gratefully state that our marriage came out infinitely stronger than before.
That night in the hospital room I was feeling homesick and a little disoriented. I wanted my bed and my house, and for goodness’ sakes, I wanted a shower. I got on our laptop to remind me a little of our normal routine. I received an e-mail that night that could not have been sent at a better time. I know that this was another message from God, as well as a sentiment from the heart of another mother. This woman who I didn’t even know, sent me an e-mail describing that she too had been through what we were now experiencing. She also had a baby boy 5 weeks early. She wrote: We felt extremely unprepared (we were baby idiots and probably would have been unprepared even if he had gone full-term), but the early arrival and attendant health issues compounded that immensely. He was so tiny and helpless, and I felt the weight of much responsibility for his well-being once he came home from the hospital. I remember telling my mom, “You didn’t tell me that once you have a baby it’s like your heart is out there every moment with the potential to get stomped on!” She also told me that her son was now a freshman in college. She said that he was a tall young man with an extremely hearty appetite who was going to be a doctor and was on the college’s swimteam. Reading over her message and remembering that night still brings tears to my eyes. How dear was that woman, and how good was God to put it on her heart to write.
The other thing that helped that night, which may seem insignificant but really wasn’t, was Ned putting on some music in our room. As soon as I heard this song, with these lyrics, I felt some kind of burden taken from me:
Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma & Pa
Not the way that I do love you
Holy roly, me, oh my, you’re the apple of my eye
Girl, I’ve never loved one like you
Man, oh man, you’re my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness
There ain’t nothin’ that I need…
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you
Looking back on those days all I can be is humble, reflective, and thankful. And now, with my little Jack Bean Baby turning 1 year old, I am so inexpressibly grateful for him and for the way he blesses Ned and I daily. Thank you God for this happy, healthy and even cute, little boy. I couldn’t ask for a better son.
