Denver

Being a midwife, I am learning is full of Joy and miracles and happy stories and life!! The baby comes slithering out and lets out a lusty cry and so begins another life. That is the way it's supposed to be... right? Well... sometimes, I guess. But sometimes not quite, and sometimes not at all... Yesterday was one of those not at all times for me... I will start at the beginning, I suppose...

I got to the clinic for day shift at 5:45, nice and early just in case someone was pushing, a dayshift person could catch the baby so the night people wouldn't have to stay forever... and there was someone pushing this time. I, however, was not first up... And I wasn't sure, because it was kind of frantic and it seemed like they were getting ready to transport. They were. She had high blood pressure. So they started an IV, and were preparing for her to be rushed to the hospital. She was also preterm (35 weeks and 6 days, term is 40 weeks). So another reason to be transported. But then I hear, "SOMEONE GET A BIRTH CART!!!" So, I jumped up, and ran in pushing a birth cart in front of me. They were pleasantly surprised to see me there, and offered me the catch. I said, oh sure, no problem. Pulled on my special blue (latex free) gloves, that are always in my pockets at work and assumed the position... Ate Ana was like, it's a hard one, Sarah. So I said, catch it then, I will just take over and do all the checks and everything, you don't need to worry about it. Because I knew they were going to transport... but I only knew the high BP part... not the preterm part. So the head is just slipping out, and I was waiting for the bulk of the head to come. It kept coming and coming, and I thought, this baby has some serious swelling, we haven't even gotten to the actual "head" of the head. But then I looked down, and there was his little face. Oh... Head out... "Oh man!" I said, "this baby is SMALL!" everyone looked and gasped a little... The rest of his body slid out easily enough, and he made a little crying/grunting noise. And that was all. He did not pink, he did not cry, he did not move. It went down from there. Nothing, no more grunting, no more anything, and he was all squished up, his legs were up by his head, and he just sat like that. We started (and by we I mean Ate Ana and Rose, while I tried to push myself as far into the wall as possible, so I wouldn't be in the way) doing CPR breathing for him, and trying to get his heart to pick up the slack a little bit. His APGAR scores (a scoring system used for newborns assessing their wellbeing at certain intervals after birth, 10 is the highest, zero is... dead) were 1 at one minute and 1 at five minutes. NOT good. I was praying as they were resuscitating him, and finally a weak little cry came out. Praise the Lord!! They got the board, and put him on it, continued to help him breathe, and rushed to the hospital. They all rushed out... leaving me, the lowly first year, alone... And I got really scared. Because, at this point, I didn't know the lady was preterm. I only knew what I saw: big woman (kinda chubby), and tiny baby... Oh my goodness, as they were rushing out the door, I called out, are you sure it's only one??? And they were like, we think so... And I was there with her alone. I had visions of another baby that small, needing that much help, coming out. Or hemorrhage and me by myself, not really knowing what to do... And then I heard it... Krys' voice. I have never been so happy to hear someone... The day shift supervisor had arrived. It wasn't twins, there was no excess blood, no problems at all, except this new mommy was here without her baby. It was then, when Krys got there, that I learned the baby was only 35 weeks... that made a lot more sense...

So we went along, business as usual, being extra supportive for the mom cause her baby wasn't there... and she had no other companions... She told me they were going to name the baby Denver.I was chatting with her. Our conversation was somewhat limited, due to the language thing... but it was going ok. And she said to me, loosely translated: "My baby was small, huh?" And I was like"yeah, really small." She said, "Why Ate Sarah, my belly was so big?" And I told her that the baby wasn't ready to come out yet, but it did, and that is why it is so small. But she shouldn't worry, because there are good doctors at DMC (hoping...) and God is the one holding her baby right now, and He is the best doctor. And she (probably only understanding half of that) smiled at me and nodded...

The baby was born at 5:50am and then at 8:30 am her husband came running in with food and a bag. She started to eat it, and was just hanging out. Her husband told us they were running tests on the baby, but didn't tell his wife. At 9 o'clock he came running in, followed by a woman carrying a bundle of baby. I was like... wait a second, what is that baby doing here??? At the hospital they had run some tests on the baby and found that he did not have an anus, his lungs and heart were smashed up too high, and his intestines were up in his chest cavity, and all mangled up. They told the father and aunt that he would not live longer than a day, and he could stay at the hospital if they wanted, or they could take him home. So Denver had come back to Mercy to see his mother for the first, and probably last time. We got him dressed, because he was still naked from birth, wrapped in the blanket we sent him in, although now with bandages all over his little body. We dressed him, and re-wrapped him and put him next to his sobbing mother. She wouldn't look at him. Finally, I got her to hold him, and she held him and cried and cried. And he died in her arms at 9:45. We were holding him together. I was sitting on the bed, holding both of them, my left hand under Denver and my right hand supporting his mom. She didn't realize he had died. But I knew. I just let her hold on to him for a while longer, oblivious to the fact that her baby son had died. The supervisor came in and asked if he was still breathing, and I said no. and she handed me the stethoscope. I listened long and hard, all over his tiny little chest, lest I miss something. But there was nothing to miss. I shook my head, but she still didn't realize. I looked at her, and she looked at me, and she asked me how his heart beat was. And I told her no more. And she cried and held him tightly, tighter than she had before. And I cried with her, and we just sat there for a while.

The funeral... or viewing, or wake... or something, where they have the dead person out and they stay there with them, for a week... I am going to go tomorrow, I think.

I'm sorry this post isn't more upbeat... I promise more exciting nice stories soon.