Michael's Birth Story
By Keith Wynne

I awoke at 4:45 in the morning on Sunday July 27, 2003. Half asleep, I looked over and noticed my wife wasn't in bed. A thought came to my mind immediately, just one sentence, "she's in labor". I didn't get out of bed though. As often happens, intuition takes a back seat to reason. And as a practical matter, I had no reason to believe my wife was in labor. I reasoned she most likely just had to use the bathroom.

After all, my wife was certain that she was going to have to be induced. Her due date was July 24th, and she had no sign of labor at all. No contractions, nothing. Our last doctor's appointment coincidentally was on the 24th, and he added scientific certainty to what my wife already knew she wasn't dilated. We wanted to know the absolute latest he would let my wife go past her due date, and he said he wouldn't let her go past two weeks. He would leave it up to us to decide if we wanted to induce after one week, but in any event, he wouldn't let Christine go past two weeks. So we left it at scheduling an appointment on Monday the 28th to see if anything was happening. We looked on the bright side of being able to schedule a delivery, most likely August 6, 2003.

When my wife did come back into bed, she said very calmly, "I'm having contractions". She said they had started around 2 a.m., they were 7-8 minutes apart for awhile, but were now around 5 minutes apart. I felt excited, dazed and anxious, and answering me before I could ask the question, Christine said "I didn't wake you because I didn't know if it was the real thing or not". I started timing her contractions for her. Everything I've read on the subject of labor emphasized finding something to do between contractions, anything besides just sitting there with a pen and pad waiting to time the next contraction. But when it happened, the only thing on my mind was, "Is this the real thing or not"? The only way we knew to determine that was by the consistency of the contractions.

So there I was, with pen and pad in hand, eyeing the clock, waiting to time the next contraction. It was almost the exact opposite of the recommendation, and everything else but the contractions were blocked out. I even set a few different clocks in the house to the exact same minute just to be sure I had the accurate time, to the minute, between contractions. I picked up the book "What to Expect When You're Expecting", and did a quick read of the section on how to tell between real and false labor. Not satisfied, I went online and did a search on "contractions" and "real labor". One site had my favorite, sure fire sign of real labor, "When it's real, you'll know". There it was in black and white! I was certain this was real, I knew! Being that my wife was the one experiencing the contractions though, I probably should have asked her. They didn't write that though. So with the logic of, "If you have to ask if its real, it probably isn't", Christine concluded that as she had been asking herself if this was real for the past few hours, it probably wasn't. She called her mother, who incidentally was going to drive from Chicago to New York to experience the birth of her first grandson, who agreed it was probably just the beginning of her contractions, and she had time.

Then around 7 a.m. the contractions came further apart. I had stopped timing them. I had started packing a few hours earlier, thinking we'd go to the hospital any minute. Reluctantly, I went back to sleep. The entire day Sunday Christine continued to have contractions fairly regularly, no longer than 10-15 minutes apart. They didn't seem too intense - maybe later on that night, but not during the day. Christine's mom called several times to see how she was doing. We were still wondering if this was the real thing or not. I was certain this was the real thing, and asked Christine's mom, who incidentally was also a nurse, whether these contractions could just go away and leave us waiting another week for the delivery. Earlier in the day, the answer was yes. But given that these contractions were consistent throughout the day, it seemed that this in fact was the real thing. A call to the doctor gave us again the scientific verification we were looking for. The doctor said she thought Christine would deliver that night and to come in when the contractions were five minutes apart.

I was already excited before Christine called the doctor. I picked up the camera and took pictures of her calling the doctor. Once again though, reluctantly I tried to sleep. It hadn't been an hour before Christine nudged me and said, "it's time to go to the hospital".

Off we went to the hospital, sometime between 1:15 and 1:30 a.m. Almost 24 hours from Christine's first contraction. We made it to the hospital with no problems at all. There was absolutely no drama! No police escorts, no driving on sidewalks. I didn't even get to honk the horn once, it was smooth sailing all the way in. No small feat considering we had to go through the Lincoln Tunnel into New York City to get to the hospital.

I think every pregnant woman's dilemma is deciding when to go to the hospital. Go too soon and you feel like you rode through town screaming louder than Paul Revere, "The baby is coming, the baby is coming". Even worse, they send you home. Of course go too late, and even worse than getting sent home, your husband delivers the baby. Wait, even worse than your husband delivering the baby, no #@%%#ing MEDS! Christine, however, timed the arrival at the hospital perfectly. She was dilated at 4. The doctor said Christine would be admitted, but suggested that she walk around a bit first, the medical definition of a bit being two hours or so. We figured we'd split the difference and make it an hour.

So we went outside and took a picture of the front of the hospital. Christine paused every few minutes as the contractions came on. I had no doubts before what an incredible woman Christine is. But being there with her throughout her labor fills me with such a sense of awe and wonder, I think I could spend a lifetime trying to convey how I feel about her and still come up short. I think every pregnant husband's dilemma is what to do when the woman who is your world is in so much pain. Never have I felt so useless. I held her hand and hugged her between the contractions, which seemed about all I could do. In hindsight I understand that sometimes just being there is enough. That didn't occur to me then though.

After the hour was up we went to be officially admitted to the hospital. 4:10 a.m. we entered the delivery room. I took another picture of the delivery bed with the clock behind it before Christine had the chance to get into it. Her contractions were now about 3 minutes apart, and she was dilated to a 7. I gave the nurse a copy of our birthing plan and a copy of her pre natal care records.

At 6:30 a.m. Christine got a partial epidural. What a relief after almost 29 hours of labor! The nurses came in and turned down the lights and suggested we try to rest before the real work started. Yet again, reluctantly I tried to sleep. I didn't get too much though. A new shift of nurses came in. I took their photos. They broke Christine's water. The doctor came in. I took her picture.

Christine started to push at around 9:45 a.m. I thought she had done fantastic through her contractions. She never once cried out or complained of pain. Christine impressed the staff, pushing more than they expected she could, more than they thought any human possibly could, okay, so more than I thought any human possibly could. I held her left leg, pushed it back and to her side, as the nurse held her other leg. With my right hand I held the back of her head and pulled her chin to her chest, as the nurse coached "curve around the baby - push, push", and "get mad at my finger, push my finger that's it". Then the doctor asked me if I'd like to see Michael's head. And so for the first time I saw Michael. It was incredible. My mind raced back to Christine and how tired she was. How close she was without knowing it. She exclaimed how she felt that she wasn't getting anywhere. Everyone else begged to differ, and there was a big head of hair backing that up.

After one hour of pushing Michael came into this world at 10:43 a.m. Monday morning July 28, 2003. It had been 33 Hours from Christine's first contraction. Still in awe of what I had just witnessed, I nervously cut the cord, not quite convinced it wasn't going to hurt him. I followed the nurses and held Michael's hand as the nurses cleaned him. Christine came through the delivery remarkably well, and within five minutes after giving birth she was even taking pictures of me holding Michael after he had been cleaned.

So many emotions compete for attention at such extraordinary times. Sure there was anxiety. Not only anxiety about the physical health of my wife and child, but also anxiety about the uncertainly of this new role I was to play in life. Most enormously, however, I felt full of love for life. Love for the life I was sharing with my wife and now my son. For all the uncertainty and the unknowns, one thing was certain. I was truly blessed. The day of Michael's birth will remain in my heart forever. It was the day the love of my life gave birth to our son!