On Friday, March 27, 2020 around 6 pm, I started to feel the contractions. Julian was already 5 days late and what was going on was pretty much the unimaginable: a global pandemic had set its sights on the world and just a week and a half earlier I was celebrating my 33rd birthday, enjoying the company of both my family and in-laws. At one point, we all looked up at the nearest television in the restaurant. NBA commissioner Adam Silver was announcing the suspension of the season because a player had contracted COVID-19. My sister was scrolling through Twitter and told us that Tom Hanks and his wife Rita Wilson also had it. I don’t think it really sunk in until my nurse midwife told me on the phone a few days later that I wouldn’t be allowed to have visitors once my son entered the world.
That Friday night, I called the Labor and Delivery (L&D) front desk at Kaiser and the nurse told me to follow the 5:1:1 rule, except to make it 3:1:1. This means the contractions had to be 3 minutes apart, lasting about 1 minute, for 1 hour. She explained that because of COVID, they didn’t want my husband Gerard and I to be there a lot longer than we had to be. If my water broke, I would also be able to arrive at the hospital and begin the process of birthing there. I understood and practiced my breathing and labor exercises for what literally felt like forever.
At some point during the day on Saturday March 28th, I called the L&D desk again when the contractions had started to worsen in pain but they were not shortening to the 3:1:1 rule. In fact, at one point they seemed to be getting closer together but then the next hour they would be farther apart (UGH). The nurse reassured me that “it looks like it will happen today” and that I would just need to keep monitoring them. I was ready to go to the hospital and was devastated that I couldn’t yet. Gerard was amazing and helpful with my labor exercises and in making sure I was eating and able to shower okay.
Not surprisingly, Sunday the 29th was the hardest day that weekend. I don’t even remember if I was able to get any sleep up until that point because of the contractions. I was either sitting up in bed or laying on my side all night. By that evening, I hadn’t realized it but my water broke. I called the L&D desk a third time to ask how I would know if it really was my water or if I just peed in my underwear (you can only imagine my Google searches at that point). The nurse asked me to describe it to her and I said it just felt like I had peed but it wasn’t a specific color (bloody show for those who have not gone through this process before. I had no idea either). I also told her that my contractions hadn’t narrowed down to 3:1:1 and she said to wait it out just a little bit longer. Later that night I cried and threw up, my teeth chattered and I shivered even though it wasn’t that cold in our apartment (apparently it’s a thing).
Needless to say, I was completely over it. I was very sleep-deprived and tired of bouncing on my labor ball. I prayed that we would be driving to the hospital by that night, but it wouldn’t be until the very next morning. Around 7 am, I knew it was go-time. I started timing the contractions on the app and tried calling out to Gerard but he was asleep in our living room. One slammed door and a last call to L&D later, we were headed towards Kaiser.
When we arrived, all of the reserved parking spots for L&D were taken. Gerard had to park elsewhere and we slowly walked to the entrance where we were met with a somber sight of canopy tents and staff with face masks and gloves. They took our temperature and a nurse helped me onto a wheelchair and walked me over to the elevators. When we got to L&D and checked in, it was already 9 am. We went to our room where I changed into a hospital gown and was soon reunited with my midwife.
After getting hooked up to an IV and heart monitor, my midwife measured my cervix and asked me when my water broke. I told her it might’ve been on Saturday but that I wasn’t sure. She told me I was 9 cm dilated – yes, NINE – and that it was time to start pushing. I asked her if it was too late for the epidural (which was a box on my birth plan waiting to get checked off) and she said yes. I panicked for maybe a few seconds but I was so determined to have Julian out so I complied. It was then when everyone in the room (nurse, midwife, Gerard and myself) noticed that Julian’s heartbeat would slow down every time I had a contraction. My midwife and the nurse were talking to each other, but I couldn’t even tell you what was being said. After what seemed like 5 hours, I realized my midwife had left and came back with the OB/GYN who informed me that we needed to get Julian out ASAP because the contractions were putting him in distress. If it would be unsuccessful, then they’d need to do an emergency caesarean.
In total I must’ve pushed about 10 or more times before Julian entered the world, with the assist of a vacuum extraction and an oxygen mask over my mouth. Gerard had also removed my eyeglasses because they were bothering me while I was pushing, so when Julian came out I couldn’t even see him. He was born at 12:11 pm on March 30, 2020. He was heavily covered in meconium (basically a newborn’s first bowel movement) and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. When we heard him cry, it was the biggest sigh of relief. I couldn’t believe what I had just endured and thought “women’s bodies are so powerful!”
Since he was covered in meconium and the cord had been around his neck, he was still in distress. The staff took him to the NICU to make sure the meconium would be removed from his lungs and he’d be able to breathe properly on his own. The plan to hold him right after birth, for skin-to-skin contact and to have that first family photo, was out the door. I didn’t really have time to process all of that and accept it until later, because I was still trying to calm down from the adrenaline of just having given birth (with no pain meds!).
God is so good and Julian was off of supplemental oxygen after a couple of hours. He was able to breathe on his own afterwards but the NICU physician wanted to monitor him more closely as a precaution. We stayed in the hospital for a total of 2 nights and was able to take Julian home on April 1st. It was exciting as much as it was terrifying.
It definitely was not how I imagined my birth story to go, or the first year of motherhood to be exact. Seeing my son in the NICU was tough. Gerard and I were not allowed to see him together, we had to go separately each time. The nurses were amazing and were so patient with us as we tried to get him to latch (which ultimately turned out to be unsuccessful. I of course have come to internalize that a fed baby is the best baby). Taking him home and not having any help because of coronavirus also proved to be very difficult. The uncertainty was looming over us, especially because it was at the start of the pandemic and the world was still trying to figure it all out. I dreaded when Gerard would head back to work and prayed every day that he wouldn’t contract it.
I felt robbed of my maternity leave, that I didn’t get a chance to have visitors. I mailed out Thank You cards from our baby shower with each note saying “We can’t wait for you to meet him!” Never in my wildest dreams did I think that would be delayed, especially during his first year of life. I didn’t get to take Mommy and Me classes, or bring Julian out with me to do the most mundane, routinely things. Things that I and many people have surely taken for granted.
Looking back, while I may have felt that way, I am truly grateful for the uninterrupted time that I was (and am) able to spend with him. It’s true that we never get that time back. Our children are only babies once. And life never goes as planned, just as the birth plan we had did not go AT ALL how we wanted it to. I am learning to stay grateful and also looking forward to the future, making more memories with our sweet boy, instead of mourning what could have been.
Happy first birthday, Julian Allen. Mom and Dad love you more than you’ll ever know.
Something Genuine 