Action Jackson

Jackson has quite the story. Here it is.

Let's start with Thursday afternoon, and my final appointment with my doctor before Jackson's arrival. My contractions were picking up at this point, and I figured we might be closing in on Jackson's arrival. At my appointment, I found out I was still dilated to 5 cm and 100% effaced, and we did another ultrasound to check out Jackson's development. My placenta was a 3 (the highest number it can be), indicating he would be able to breathe just fine out of the womb. My doctor kept me waiting almost 3 hours - yes, 3 HOURS! - before letting me know that he had no clue why I hadn't gone into labor, but just to keep waiting. When I went to make my appointment for the following week, he slid the receptionist a note and then scurried down the hall. She opened it and told me how he would be out of town beginning the next morning and I would need to see another doctor in the practice. Not only did he NOT tell me himself he would be gone, but I was left to see a doctor I had never met. I also found out I would have an on-call doctor deliver my baby if I went into labor. Frustrated with the lack of professionalism and bedside manner my doctor just portrayed, I left the office and headed home.

Friday, I had a little more activity than I had in weeks. My 36 week mark was just a day away and I had been told Jackson was a good size and had good development, so I figured it would be okay to allow myself a little more freedom. By 5 p.m., my contractions were much more painful than they had ever been. I also began a rapid transformation into a very mean person. Little did I know, a woman in labor is a completely different woman.

I timed the contractions and by 8:30 that night I was yelling orders to be left alone. My brother, Jake, was over spending the night and my mom was there as well because she had a hunch she may be needed this one last time. Jake got in my face and chanted, "Pop that baby! Pop that baby!" I looked at him and told him if he didn't leave my room I would kick or punch him. This definitely wasn't me anymore. My contractions were about 5 minutes apart and bringing tears to my eyes every time they came, so we got in the car and headed to the hospital. Now remember, I've been in labor four times before this. Four. One time, the hospital turned me away. Three times they stopped my labor. I was terrified about how I would be treated and if I would be told to go home and tough it out because there was no cervical change.

When we got into triage and my monitors were hooked up, my contractions continued. I cried with each one but saw a bit of inconsistency in their pattern. Sometimes they were 2-3 minutes apart and sometimes they were 4-5 minutes apart. There was the occasional 7 minute break between them, but there was never a break in the intensity. The triage nurse left me alone for an hour to monitor my activity. She was a sweet nurse but seemed a little doubtful that I was indeed in labor, despite seeing me cry through the contractions. At 10:30 p.m. she came in with the news: there was still no cervical change so I could go home. She instructed me to take some Benadryl (seriously), get some rest, and perhaps make an appointment to see my doctor on Monday instead of later that week. I was incredulous that the contractions would stop. The hospital was sending home a woman who was a good 5 cm dilated, 100% effaced and in lots of pain with contractions. I grabbed the discharge papers and left feeling exhausted and disappointed. If this wasn't labor, how would I know to come back? She instructed me to wait until my water broke or my contractions were on the money 5 minutes apart. I came home and went right to bed.

And then, it happened. Just like a movie. At 4:15 a.m. I woke up in so much pain I could do nothing except scream or squirm around in pain. I did everything I could to get them to subside - I drank water, changed positions, took a hot shower and walked around. Nothing. As the minutes ticked on, the pain grew worse. I took refuge in my closet and screamed through them, terrified of getting back to the hospital only to get sent home again. I went in and shook Jimmy to get up. He didn't move. I then headed out into the living room and began to pick up Jimmy's toys to see if time would help the pain. Nothing. I headed to the dining room and screamed in there. I walked back into the bedroom and told Jimmy it was time and he needed to get up. Nothing again. I walked into the bathroom, slamming the door and proceeded into my closet where I began ripping clothes off the hangers and almost ripped my wedding dress and veil in attempt to channel my pain somewhere else. In a final attempt to get Jimmy up, I went back in and screamed at him. He proceeded to pull the covers back and tried to coerce me to get back in bed and sleep them off. That wasn't happening. He finally got up and got dressed. By this time, I was screaming in so much pain. I ran upstairs and shook my mom to wake up and let her know through tears and screams we were going to the hospital. I was surprised my screams from downstairs didn't wake her, Jake and Jimmy. Before leaving the room I looked back and said, "Should we go?" My past negative experiences at the hospital had me absolutely spooked.

Downstairs, Jimmy was putting his shoes on and I grabbed my jacket. I had half of it on when I turned to him and said, "We waited too long." Barely awake, he instructed me to get into the car. I couldn't believe he was being so calm and not comforting me in some way, and I barked at him to drive fast and have his flashers on. I thrashed in the car and hit the windows and roof when the contractions came. This was a pain I had never experienced before. As luck would have it, a cop pulled out behind us and pulled us over as soon as we hit the feeder road. Jimmy was terrified he would be getting a ticket and before the cop could even get to the window and ask for his license I leaned over and yelled, "I'm in LABOR! Can we get an escort?!" The cop turned ghost white and ran back to his car. We followed behind him and he took us all the way to the front entrance of the hospital. I jumped out of the car and began running. The cop jumped out and insisted on getting me a wheelchair. The pain was so bad at this point I couldn't speak except to scream so I stood there in the entrance waiting on a wheelchair. A security officer came over to us and as I sat down the cop asked where to take me. I started screaming orders.

"Labor and delivery! GO RIGHT! RIGHT! Not the emergency room! Please don't give my husband a ticket and thank you, thank you for your help!!!!"

He wheeled me through the doors into labor and delivery and as soon as I saw nurses, I screamed out. Jimmy said he could hear me all the way down the hall.

"Help me! Help me, guys!" I screamed over and over. The first nurse I saw was a caring, sweet woman who took care of me during my stay on the mag sulfate. I grabbed her arm and began sobbing. She ran me into the first open room and had me undress. There was no time to get my shirt and bra off, I just had enough time to get on the bed and I wanted so badly to push. Before laying down, I saw the nurse from triage who sent me home. I grabbed her arm and yelled, "JOAN, HELP ME!" Her face turned white and I know she regretted sending me home just hours prior. My cervix at this point was dilated to 9 cm and the baby was laboring down. I looked at Jimmy and had him call our parents to let them know their second grandson would be here soon. He made the call at 6:48 a.m.

There were about 6 nurses in my room trying to calm me down. I screamed for an epidural. I insisted on drugs to relieve the pain. The nurses assured me they would try to get my epidural in time, and this calmed me down. I started to breathe better through the contractions with the thought there may be relief soon, but I was a little worried when I saw the tubes of blood that would go to lab for the epidural were barely full. Then, they "accidentally" spilled iodine on the order for the epidural. Again, they reassured me they were trying to get the epidural in, I just needed to breathe and calm down. I then figured this would be an opportune time to fill them in that my husband wouldn't wake up and if he had, I might have gotten my epidural sooner. I was mean and unfiltered, although not a single curse word left my mouth the entire time.

The on-call doctor entered the room and looked me straight in the eyes and told me there was no time. There would be no epidural. There would be a baby, and soon. I told them over and over I couldn't do it without an epidural; the pain was too much to bear. I had an urge to push. They grabbed my hands and assured me I could do it. Dr. Labanca was going to pop my bag of water and as soon as he did, I needed to push. WHAT?! That quick?!

The first push was ridiculous. It was a pain I had never imagined. I gave up after just a few seconds, laying back down and shaking my head. The doctor and nurses told me I could do it and I needed to do it. I rallied up all the strength I had and pushed hard. Jimmy leaned in to kiss me and told me Jackson was quickly arriving and I was doing great. On the third push, Jackson was born. It was 7:04 in the morning. In that split second after his birth the pain was taken away. The past hours of sheer pain were gone. They placed him on my chest and it took awhile for him to cry. I began to cry and tell him how much I loved him. I knew something wasn't normal when they grabbed him from me and he only cried once. The room got quiet as they cleaned him off and prepped him for NICU. The nurses applauded my strength, but my mind was on Jackson. I couldn't see him when he was being cleaned and I couldn't hear him. He was 6 pounds 7.9 ounces (just .9 ounces bigger than Jimmy) and 19.5 inches long (the exact same length of Jimmy). Once wrapped up, they put Jackson in my arms just long enough for a quick picture before NICU rushed him off.

My recovery was swift and I was up walking just an hour after he was born. NICU came in and told us the initial chest scan looked like he had fluid and immature lungs, meaning he could be there for 7-10 days and we wouldn't be able to talk to him or touch him for quite some time. My heart broke, but my faith never faltered.

Just hours later we received the news that Jackson was progressing as the time did. It looked like there was just fluid, but only time would tell. My first trip to the NICU left me in tears. Looking down at your child and seeing only tubes was a feeling I would have easily replaced with the pain of labor. I would have given anything to make him better. I couldn't hold him and the only touch I could give him was on his feet or the top of his head. I prayed over and over for his recovery.

As God would have it, Jackson only had fluid in his lungs. Just a day later all the tubes and breathing machines were gone and he is just being held for observation. We fed him his first bottle and can hold him and kiss him. My heart is exploding with love for this little boy. I am now the Mommy of two beautiful, healthy boys.

And, that's Action Jackson's story. Looking back, it was really quite funny and VERY dramatic. From Jimmy trying to get me back to bed all the way to the police escort and the "epidural they were trying to get," it was more like a movie than something we experienced. My labor officially began at 28 weeks, so my exhaustion of 8 weeks of labor is beginning to set in. It was worth every ounce of pain to have my little boy here. I can't wait to bring him home and love on him forever and ever.