I don't think that I have posted this, ever. I wrote it up for another website which is why I never posted it, I guess. I thought that I could always forward people to the post on the other site. Anywho, it was never posted there, so here it is now.
Ethan’s Birth Story
May 24,
2001. I was relaxing at home, anxiously
awaiting my May 29th due date.
My older sister had called me that morning to check in and see how I
was. My doctor had taken me out of work
to start my maternity leave due to elevated blood pressure. I had done my nesting- the living room had
been rearranged, every nook and cranny
had been sterilized, hospital bag was packed, clothes were washed and hung,
bottles were washed and sterilized, diapers were stocked, and the infant seat
was securely installed.
After
talking with my sister, I noticed some signs of early labor. We knew we were having a boy and we knew his
name would be Ethan Scott Faulkner. I
knew he was going to be making his appearance very soon.
I went about
my day as planned- I had a date with my manicurist for pretty nails, and even
though I was not scheduled for a pedicure, she was sweet to redo my French
pedicure {because you know that matters- pretty toes when giving birth!}. I had contractions throughout the day but
nothing that made me think it was time to head to the hospital. I really wanted to labor as much as possible
at home. One of my biggest fears was to
labor at home, get to the hospital and be told to go home.
After
running errands most of the day, I headed home to relax as much as
possible. I called my husband, Scott, to
tell him to not go very far from work because I really felt that Ethan was
coming. I unpacked and repacked the
hospital bag. I sat in Ethan’s nursery,
looked around and thought to myself how Scott and I were about to become
parents and a family of three. I caressed
my belly and enjoyed one last episode of hiccups inside of me. I knew that I would miss feeling him inside
of me once he was born.
Except for
sciatica, Ethan was kind to me during my pregnancy- no morning sickness, no
bruised ribs, and no unbearable sleepless nights. I felt bad for women who are miserable during
pregnancy because I loved every second of it.
Scott came
home from work close to 6pm and was so cute and nervous. Every contraction had a question attached to
it: Is it time? At 10pm, I finally responded with “Yes, we
can go to the hospital now”.
We arrived
to the hospital and were checked in by 10:30pm.
I was given my ever-so-stylish hospital gown and climbed on to the bed
for my first “check”.
2
centimeters. -2 Station. No effacement. My biggest fear about to come true! They were going to send me home!
Luckily, I
was the only laboring Mother that night so the nurses let me walk around for an
hour before sending me home.
Check
#2: 4 centimeters, 0 station, 80%
effaced! We were not going home without
a baby!
Since the
walking and rocking worked so well, we did it again!
Check
#3: 6 centimeters, +1 station, 100%
effaced! This is when the nurses kicked
into overdrive since my labor was, obviously, moving quicker than anyone could
have imagined considering where I was when we got to the hospital. The nurses rushed to get my IV in and give me
my medication to protect Ethan since I was Group Beta Strep positive. Just as my IV was going in, my water
broke.
Up until my
water breaking, my contractions were mild.
I was offered a water birth, but my OB denied the request due to my GBS+
status, so we opted for the Plan B offered:
a warm shower. Contractions
became intense and it became clear that I had back labor. Scott had to massage my lower back and keep
the warm water on me simultaneously.
After only being in the shower for 20 minutes, I was checked and was
fully dilated and ready to deliver!
Everything
was moving so quickly, there was no time to even think. I didn’t even think to ask for my glasses so
I could see! After 20 minutes of
pushing, Ethan made his grand entrance.
May 25, 2001,
1:21am. Ethan Scott Faulkner. 8 pounds, 20 ½ inches picture of perfection.
Ethan had a
BUNCH of black hair and barely cried. His APGAR scores were 8 and 9. His placenta was healthy. Some people find it odd that I cared and
wanted to see his placenta, but I wanted to see what nourished our baby for
nine months. We were given no indication
that anything was wrong.
Scott went home
around 3:30am after Ethan and I were settled into a (shared) postpartum
room. I don’t know how I was expected to
sleep after just giving birth to our first son.
Ethan was placed in the bassinet beside me, lights were off, and all I
wanted to do was hold him and call everyone to announce Ethan’s arrival!
Ethan never
cried once in those early hours after his birth. He did make the most precious suckling motion
with his lips that made me think he was hungry, but when I asked the nurse all
she said was that he would cry if he was hungry.
Later that
morning after 7am rounds, the pediatrician came into my “room”. Ethan had been taken to the nursery for the
evaluation. The pediatrician stood
beside my bed and uttered the words forever etched in my brain: “I have
concerns. Your baby has markers for Down
syndrome”. She then shared with me
the markers that she was concerned about- singular palmar crease and eye shape
being the primary concerns.
I was
ALONE. I was scared. I wanted to see my baby. I wanted her to be wrong. I had that overwhelming feeling of
nervousness. I wanted visiting hours to
hurry up and arrive so I would not be alone in this fear anymore.
I took the
prenatal screening tests (AFP) and it was negative. I was 24 years old! What did I
do to cause my baby to have Down syndrome?
I couldn’t
wait for Scott to arrive for visiting hours; I had to call him at home. He made sure to get to the hospital as soon
as he was allowed. He was speechless and
didn’t know really what to say about the pediatrician’s concerns. I think that he was silently praying that she
was wrong.
Throughout
the day, we welcomed visitors. My Mom
and older sister helped me try to breastfeed, but Ethan would not latch
on. The nurses continued to tell me that
when Ethan was hungry, he would cry.
But, he never cried.
I shared the
concerns about Ethan with my family and friends who visited. They assured me that he was “perfect” and his
almond-shaped eyes were mine, and that they did not see any resemblance of a
child with Down syndrome. I would stare
at Ethan throughout the day looking to see what the doctor saw, but I just
never did- not that I had much experience seeing babies with Down syndrome, but
the image that I had in my head did not look like my son.
As the day
became early evening, I asked Scott to go check on Ethan since he had been
taken earlier to the nursery for an evaluation, but it had been quite a
while. I really felt that he should have
been returned to us by then. Scott came
back and said that a nurse would be in shortly to talk with us.
The nurse
came in and asked us to come to the nursery.
Scott and I
came around the corner into the nursery to a visual I will never forget- Ethan
under an oxygen hood with monitors hooked onto him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner, your baby is not
able to keep his oxygen saturation up, his blood sugar is low, he is showing
signs of fighting infection, and we believe we hear a heart murmur. The doctor is on the phone with Valley
Children’s Hospital now. He may need to
be transported.”
The
pediatrician finished speaking with the children’s hospital and it was decided
that Ethan would need to be transported to Valley Children’s- an hour
away. VCH was sending an ambulance
transport team to take Ethan to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where he could
be properly monitored and cared for, and also where an echocardiogram could be
done.
At less than
24 hours old, Ethan was placed in a baby isolette and loaded into an
ambulance. Scott and I were numb. I was discharged from the hospital with
strict instructions for myself and we left to meet the ambulance at VCH. Scott and I left the hospital without a baby
in my belly or the infant carrier seat that was secured in the back seat.
Oddly
enough, we still held on to hope that the doctor’s suspicions were wrong. One of my first questions to the
neonatologist was if he was sure that Ethan did in fact have Down
syndrome. “Yes, I am sure. Of course, we
will not know definitively until the chromosomal tests are done, but I am
sure.”
My Mom and
Dad had rushed to meet us at the new hospital and even though I had my husband,
all I wanted was my Mommy…Mommy would make it all better, right?
We spent
close to four days in the NICU. The
echocardiogram did not show a major defect, he was breathing room air
efficiently, and was eating enough to gain back some of the weight he had
lost.
We brought
Ethan home on May 29, 2001- his due date.
We had fears and we were overwhelmed, but our son was here, he was
beautiful, and he was LOVED. There was
nothing any doctor could tell us that would change that we loved our son with
every bit of our souls.
Two weeks
later, we repeated the echocardiogram and were cleared from cardiology. We were also given our confirmation that
Ethan does have Down syndrome. To me, it
didn’t matter anymore. He was my son and
I would do whatever I needed to do to make sure he had the best life possible. I would have done the same thing if he didn’t
have Down syndrome, so why would that extra chromosome change that?
Scott and I
chose to not bury ourselves in medical jargon or the future in the
beginning. For one, the internet was
just out and we had dial-up which made it easier to not get stuck on the
computer, but most importantly we wanted to enjoy our baby as a baby and not
rob him, or US, of that.
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