This article is my submission to the blog challenge sponsored by Art Bookbindery, "Empowering Writers to Self Publish."
The original post, entitled, "Sentimental Bathroom", was published January 27, 2007.
The night before we officially called our new house at the acreage "home", I had a tearful departure with our main bathroom at the "old" house. Strange, yes. But I have a very good reason for being emotional about leaving the bathroom behind. It holds sentimental value for us because our youngest son, Tyrone, was born in this bathroom. No, this wasn't planned. We didn't anticipate a home birth. Ty was just too impatient to have a normal entrance into the world! But it's given me a story that I love to tell!
I woke up at 5:14 a.m. on June 5, 2001 with a mild stomach ache. I went to "assess the situation", and concluded that yes, the baby's arrival was imminent. It was my due date, so I wasn't surprised at all that labour may be starting. By 5:19 a.m. another pain was felt, this time more intense, so I woke up my husband and I called my parents to come stay with our other boys. My famous last words to my mom: "Don't panic about getting here. I'll be okay until you arrive." I knew it would take them at least 30 minutes to get to our house, and we had about a 20 minute drive to the hospital. So, theoretically speaking, we should have had just under an hour to get to the hospital and have the baby. Nice theory.
As we awaited the arrival of my parents, my pain became increasingly worse and more frequent. My husband, Wayne, kept saying, "If we can just get to the hospital before your water breaks, we'll be fine." Well, those were his famous last words, and about 10 minutes before my parents walked in the door, my water broke (it was clear, thank goodness), and at that point I knew I wasn't going anywhere. I could feel the intense pressure of the baby's head and I was barely mobile at this point. When my parents finally arrived at 6:00 a.m., I was in the bathroom attempting to put on a dry pair of pants, with no success whatsoever. Although I had previously concluded that I was never going to make it to the hospital in time to have this baby, I was still in denial, thinking that if I could just get these pants on, we'd make it. My mom walked into the bathroom and I said, "Forget it. I can't do this. I'm having the baby right here."
Prior to my parent's arrival, I told Wayne to get the What to Expect When You're Expecting book and look up the section on emergency deliveries. He got the book, found the section and read this phrase often: "If you have time . . . ", and then he'd reply: "We don't have time! What does it say to do next?" Looking back on it, that part of the experience was actually quite funny.
Wayne was already on the phone with 9-1-1 (or, back then for us in a rural setting it was 310-5000) when my parents arrived, and the attendant on the other end of the line attempted to guide him through the delivery process. But there wasn't time for that! My mom and I got down on the bathroom floor and within 1 or 2 minutes, I had pushed that baby out! There's no way any doctor would have allowed such a quick delivery (more for the sake of my body than the baby's), but I actually didn't even do too much damage to myself. Tyrone cried right away and my mom wrapped him up in a towel and handed him over to me. Wayne was just about to cut off the umbilical cord (as per the instructions of the 9-1-1 attendant), but our town's First Responders squad arrived and took it from there. They were amazing people, and I'll never forget all of their care and concern for myself and Ty as he made such a dramatic entrance into the world.
Ty's Apgar scores were both 10, and we were very grateful for that. Eventually MD Ambulance arrived and then they took over from the First Responders. I had to be hooked up to oxygen and intravenous before leaving our house, but I was able to hold my precious angel the entire time. He looked like a baked potato, wrapped up in a foil blanket to protect him from heat loss.
Wayne met us at the hospital and was present for the weighing and measuring of our 8 lb., 20 3/4 inch baby boy.
Tyrone was born at 6:07 a.m. From the time I first woke up with my mild pain at 5:14 a.m. until he was born was less than one hour! Yes, this was a surreal experience, and even as I write this, almost 6 years after-the-fact, it seems almost unbelievable to me.
As I reflect on this very scary, yet exciting moment, I'm reminded of how God views each precious life that is created. Life is so valuable to Him. He protects, guides and directs lives of those who put their trust in Him. And He gave us His baby son, Jesus, to provide the ultimate life for all believers: Eternal Life. Thank you, God! I can't wait!