Baby McKay was due to arrive 12.21.12, a date predicted by the Mayans to bring the Apocalypse. In the end, Baby McKay's actual date of birth was much more exciting than the long anticipated doomsday turned out to be.
Those of you who know Rob, or have been following this blog, know that he loves a close call. He likes to trim trees with a chainsaw while wearing flip flops. Or give himself stitches with fishing line. I, myself, take cautious steps even up and down stairs.
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| Eventually, this ladder in the Aframe was more than I could handle. In my 8th month of pregnancy we replaced our couch with a bed so that I could just sleep downstairs. |
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| When my car broke down this week on Valentines Day, I wanted to call a tow truck. Rob had another idea. |
Rob likes a challenge. He likes an adventure. I guess I should have known that having Rob's baby would mean I would be forfeiting all predictability and control.
Even months before delivery, Rob found ways to add suspense to our first pregnancy. First, he convinced me that we should wait to find out the sex of the baby. How many more great surprises will we have in our lives? he argued. And so, over the course of the pregnancy we kept two lists of baby names going and constantly speculated, boy or girl?
Second, Rob continued to remind me that November was hunting season. Years ago, Rob gave up eating meat that he doesn't believe is sustainable. And so, we have depended largely on the venison that he brings home after an annual weekend to his family's ranch in Menard. This year, Rob planned his trip for November 15-18. As the date grew nearer, we continued to touch base about whether his trip to a relatively isolated location with limited cell phone reception was a good idea. As long as I continued to feel well, however, we didn't foresee any reason why being in our 8th month of pregnancy should get in the way of his plans.
Rob was scheduled to leave town Thursday evening. The first indication that Baby McKay would arrive early came on Wednesday while I was at work. This being my first pregnancy, I didn't recognize the signs. I called my OB's office and described my symptoms. "My husband is leaving town tomorrow evening for the weekend. Should I tell him not to go?" I added.
"No, no," the nurse practitioner reassured me. This was normal for someone at 35 weeks. Rob could enjoy his hunting trip. I need not worry.
Thursday morning I felt great. I even swam half a mile at the Y. By Thursday afternoon, however, just 2 hours before Rob planned to leave, I experienced yet another new sensation. Could my water have just broken? Again, I called the nurse practitioner and described the symptoms.
Just another unfortunate side effect of this stage of pregnancy, she explained.
"Should I tell my husband to cancel his trip?" I had to ask.
"No, no," I was told again. The baby was likely just jumping on my bladder.
While it wasn't exactly 'relieving' to hear that wetting myself was normal, I told Rob that, yes, everything was fine and that, no, he need not cancel his trip. Before he left town, however, I reminded him to make sure that at least someone had cell phone coverage at the ranch. Just in case.
Thursday night Rob checked in with me from his friend, Robert's, phone. His own phone wasn't working. "All's fine. Have fun!" I told him. But I went ahead and saved his friend's phone number to my contacts. Just in case.
Friday morning Rob called me again. I had the day off of work.
"I'm fine. Have fun!" I repeated. "Just keep a phone on you."
Friday afternoon I met up with my brother, Sean, to grab lunch and go for a walk. We swung on the swings at a neighborhood park, carefree and playful, unaware of what the evening had in store for us. Next, we headed to his place so I could do several loads of Baby McKay's laundry. At the Aframe, we don't have a gas hook up for our dryer, so we had been hanging our laundry to dry, resulting in some rather stiff clothes. I wanted the baby's clothes to be soft and fluffy. At Sean's, I wondered whether Baby McKay was a boy or a girl as I folded receiving blankets, burp clothes, and gender neutral onesies. Only about 1 month left until December 21st.
Around midnight, while still at Sean's watching tv, I felt it again, only this time it was worse. Can the baby jump on my bladder while I'm lying on my side? I discreetly got up and walked to the bathroom. This was not normal.
"Ummm, Sean..." I started, as I returned to the living room. "I think maybe my water just broke." He looked at me, his eyebrows raised, and then calmly began to do a google search as I described the symptoms. I grabbed my cell to call the after hours hotline. My phone was dead. I borrowed Sean's and realized that I didn't have access to the only number where I could reach Rob. Great.
Sean drove me to my place to get my phone charger. En route, the doctor called Sean's phone and agreed that, yes, we should head to the hospital. First, I ran (waddled) into the Aframe and plugged in my phone. Rob's friend, who I'd never met, answered my call with a groggy, "Hello?"
"Rob?"
"This is Robert."
"No, Rob McKay. Is Rob McKay there? This is his wife. I'm on my way to the hospital," my tone lacked patience. When my Rob got to the phone, I told him to stay put, keep Robert's phone close by, and I'd call him soon with an update. I grabbed the hospital bag that I had packed the week before, relieved that it was prepared. Had Rob had his way, we'd have waited another week or two to get ready. "We've got plenty of time," Rob had said, just as he does whenever we're on our way to catch a flight.
As we pulled up to the Emergency entrance, I tried to remain calm. No reason to worry. This was just a precautionary trip to the hospital. With my brother. My baby wasn't coming for another month. And Rob would be there when he or she did. This was a "just in case" trip.
I was wheeled up to the maternity ward and over the next 4 hours, Sean walked back and forth from the couch to the waiting room while I was examined by nurse after nurse, each of whom was unsure what this leaking meant. It took several tests to rule out amniotic fluid. The monitors showed that I was having slight contractions (so that's what that back pain was!) and I was told that I was 1 cm dilated. Dilated? Already? This could go on for weeks, I was told. As if that was supposed to be reassuring. Eventually, around 4:00am, one of the nurses came in and said, "Your labor is not progressing, so we're not going to admit you. You can go home."
I burst into tears. I had started to wonder if maybe I was there to stay. It had been all I could do to not let worry overwhelm me and with the news that all was okay, I just lost it. Sean smiled at me, understanding that the tears were of relief, and brought me home. I let Rob know that all was fine and that there was no need for him to rush home. We could talk again in the morning. I passed out in bed--downstairs--and slept in on Saturday morning.
Before I met up with Sean for an appointment with the cabinet makers (no, the house would not be ready in time for the baby), I talked to Rob. I think I was half hoping that he would say that he was going to cut his trip short and come home. But he'd only gotten one deer, not enough to last us a year. And I didn't want to over-react or sound any more false alarms. Plus, it was just one more day until he planned to come home. We had plenty of time, right?
Rob's friend, Robert, had already left. Now, it was just Rob's brother, Jim, and Rob on the ranch. "I'm fine." I told him. "But keep Jim's phone on you."
But while Sean and I were meeting with the cabinet maker, I felt more contractions. They were more intense than they had been at the hospital the night before. When I was back home Saturday afternoon, I started googling "babies born at 35 weeks." Such internet searches never serve to ease the mind. I'd had it. I called Jim's phone, planning to ask Rob to come home. Just in case.
Jim answered. "Can I talk to Rob?" I asked, trying to sound calm.
"He's off hunting for the day," Jim responded. He didn't have a phone on him!?!? "Is everything alright?"
"It's time for you guys to come home. Enough is enough." And I started crying again. I explained that I was fine, but that I needed Rob to come back to Austin.
"I'll go get him right now," Jim said.
Apparently, Jim then got in the truck, and started driving through the ranch, his hand on the horn so as not to be inadvertently shot. When he found Rob, he said, "We've got to go. Katie called. She was crying."
"Well, Katie cries a lot..." Rob responded. Ha! Later, I laughed when I heard that one. It's true, I do cry a lot. ;) Maybe I'd gotten a 'boy who cried wolf' reputation. But this time, I'm lucky Jim was there to step in.
"Get in the truck," Jim insisted. They were home by Saturday evening.
Sunday, I continued to feel contractions but they were still inconsistent, and not too intense. Sunday evening, we were at Sean's working to organize plans and re-negotiation paperwork for the builder. Even four years and two months after we bought the lot on West Johanna, this house was the center of stressful conversations. Contractors had ceased to work and lawyers were now a new part of the equation. Even as I was doing child's pose on the floor, stretching and breathing through contractions, our future home was haunting me.
By 11:00pm, the pains were 3-5 minutes apart and growing more and more intense. Again, I called the MedLink number and heard back from the doctor. Yes, we should go back to the hospital, she said. Still, we were certain we'd be sent back home. I got my bag and we grabbed the movie we'd been watching, The Hills Have Eyes.
We'd been on a Horror movie kick and though this flick, complete with baby kidnapping and all, isn't ideal for the maternity ward, we figured we might have a lot of time to kill.
Rob didn't grab anything for himself, sure that we still had plenty of time. We left the house a mess, hunting gear strewn around, dishes in the sink, laundry baskets full to the brim. We'll be back by morning, we thought.
But, Baby McKay had her own plans. We arrived at the hospital by 11:30pm Sunday night. Over the next 12 hours, the contractions continued. I was admitted and told that though the doctor did not want to do anything to progress labor, I was in active labor and would likely not be going home until the baby came.
I was on my feet throughout the night. Rob walked the halls with me, making a game out of making it to the end of the hall each lap we took. We watched our horror film, I ate ice chips, and texted our family to give periodic updates. 3cm, 4cm. Around 1:30pm Monday afternoon, my doctor came to check on me. By this time, I was doing what she called "the death grip" on the bars of the hospital bed. I hadn't eaten and my legs were shaking with fatigue. Dr. Landwermeyer checked my charts and was surprised to see that no one had checked my dilation since 4:00am. When she checked me, I was at 7 cm and my water broke. She looked me in the eye and said, "Now the contractions are going to get more intense. If you want an epidural, it will take about an hour. So, keep that in mind."
It was only the 19th of November. Almost 5 weeks before my due date. But Rob was here. And there were no signs that should cause us to worry. We could do this.
Rob and I hit the halls again. He rubbed my back as I gripped the bars along the hallway's walls. I didn't last much longer before asking for the anesthesiologist. By 3:30 I was drugged, happy, and relaxed enough to take a nap. By about 5:00 it was time to push.
At 5:48pm, as the sun was setting just outside our window, Dr. Landwermeyer said, "She is a little princess!" Rob grabbed the camera and we held our sweet, sweet baby girl, Maya Jane, for the first time.
Maya is now 3 months old. This week, contractors were back on site at the house. The new expected completion date is May 15th. By then, Maya will be 6 months old, sitting up but not yet crawling. We look forward to moving our family into our new home before long. But I'll go ahead and get the Aframe baby-proofed... just in case!
Awww... such a sweet story!
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