My Frankie

John and I made the drive together into Edina on the morning of Wednesday, June 6, 2012.  The sky was brilliant blue and we stopped at Dunn Brothers for a quick pick-me-up at the start of what we knew would be an amazing day for our family.  Still, we laughed to realize that by our fourth child and third induction, we did not feel nervous or overly anxious about driving to the hospital to have a baby.  I guess we both felt comfortable knowing within a few hours, we would finally meet our fourth child and begin the adventure again.

In my hospital room, John took the usual final pregnancy photos of me sticking my tongue out at the camera.  We waited for the pitocin drip in my arm to kick in and get the contractions moving along.  Things were slow.  Every so often, the nurses would come in and turn things up, checking in on me and commenting that the baby didn't seem be coming down yet into the birth canal.

By noon, things were still moving slow.  My doctor broke my waters and I felt this instanteous feeling of relief as the pressure I had been experiencing in my belly for months released.  The contractions that followed were not even painful.  We talked about whether I should get an epidural; the hospital team seemed to think that once things got going, it would all happen very quickly.

After the epidural kicked in, little Frankie began experiencing some heart deceleration in the womb.  The nurses came in periodically to rotate my position in the bed to try to control his heart rate.  First my left side, then my right side, finally my back.  Frankie didn't seem to stabilize and labor was not moving along.  The nurses put in a call to my doctor and told me we would do a procedure that used to be relatively common, re-inserting fluid into my amniotic sac.   The hope was that the additional fluid would bring Frank's heart rate back to normal so he would handle the birthing process better.

Several nurses worked together to attempt the procedure, but due to my high cervix and Frank's mysterious position inside me, they couldn't find a way to get the tube inserted.  In what seemed like a blurring moment, the room filled with nurses and I understood the look they shared between them:  Something was really wrong.  This wasn't going as planned.  Before they said it, I almost spoke aloud myself that we needed to go to an operating room.

It was an instant.  They looked at John and explained that I needed an emergency c-section, that he would stay behind because of how quickly this would happen.  And then the nurses were running down the hall with me on the bed, my heart panicking and my hand resting on my stomach to reassure both myself and Frank that things would be ok. 

An overhead page announced again and again the code:  Any OB report for surgery, Any surgeon come to assist.  The moment stopped and spun, and I was in the operating room grasping the gravity of the sequence.  Talking to an anesthesiogist who would put me out because there was time for nothing else.  A surgical team putting things in place.  A sense of panic.  A gulp from within me and the start of a tear.  But no doctor.  No doctor.

No doctor.

And the code continued overhead.  And the minutes passed.

And then, she was suddenly there.  She was introducing herself and they were about to begin and a nurse near my left shoulder asked me what was this baby's name?   "Frankie," I spoke.  I said it again.  I felt my belly and felt Frankie not moving and wondered and believed at the same time that I might awaken and have no baby in my arms.   I prayed for him to make it through.

And then I was out.

Frankie was stuck inside me, having twisted himself into birthing position with his head and one foot down.  My body wouldn't dialate or make room for his strange position. 

Frankie was twisted.  The umbilical cord wrapped around his neck twice, and a quite unusual complication in addition to this:  the umbilical cord was tied in a "true knot,"  a tight knot much like any you would tie except that Frankie's knot stretched and pulled during the birthing process, causing his heart distress with every motion he made.  He probably tied the knot himself months ago doing somersaults inside me.

When they took him out, Frankie needed resuscitation and they estimatated that his heart rate had been dangerously low for 10-12 minutes.  But Frank was a fighter, weighing in at 8 lbs. 10 ounces.  Measuring 20.5 inches.  In five minutes, he was breathing and screaming and erasing the memory of how close to death he had been.

My baby.  I never could have predicted the feeling of worry for a child's life that would overcome me on the morning of your birth day.  My heart gulped to realize all that was in the hands of those around me in that operating room.  What if it had taken another moment?  Another two?

You're here now, Francis Luke.  Frankie.  And our hearts are bursting, wondering what each moment will bring and who you will become. 

How thankful we are that God kept you safe, that God gave us you to love inside...and out.