Surprising Adventures in Advocacy

     Feel Better Hospital has been a fun place to volunteer these days. I've been primarily on the Couplet Care Unit (another name for the Postpartum Unit) or, where moms go who have recovered from childbirth and are ready to be moved with their babies (hopefully) to a different floor. I have done breastfeeding surveys, handed out car seats to moms being discharged, and collected breakfast trays and passed out ice water. These various activities have provided opportunities for me to see adorable babies and sweet couples recovering from the thrilling exhaustion of childbirth. By the time they are hours from being discharged, car seat in hand, the reality of parenthood the first, third or umpteenth time around has settled into their demeanor: this little person going home with them is all theirs!
     Quietly knocking on the door and announcing, in a soft voice (I dread waking any mommy up), "Hi there. It's Laura from Volunteer Services. I'm here with your car seat,"  I greet them as I open the door and pull back the curtain. I'll look at the baby and reply, "What an adorable baby!" Then I'll look at both mom and dad and say, with great exuberance, "You two did a great job! He's beautiful!" They both smile and sometimes have a sheepish look on their face. (This sweet look on their faces has the effect of melting my heart a bit and diminishing aspects of the pain-stained memories of some of my childbirth experiences.) I'll proceed to talk about the car seat and the benefit of strapping the baby in before they are taken downstairs so they are not struggling with adjusting the baby's straps while also trying to get the seat buckled in their car. I have the mom then sign that she received the car seat. Before I leave I assure them that if they have any questions they can call for their nurse or me. "Congratulations!" I say as I exit the room and head toward my next car seat recipient.
     Years ago, after I had Daisy at The Country Club Hospital, there was a student nurse that came into my room to do whatever. She was so cheery and complimentary in her own way: "I can tell this is your 5th child. You are so relaxed. The atmosphere is totally different in your room than down the hall with the parents who just had their first." She wasn't judgmental or critical of the other patients, just sharing an observation she had made. I felt so comforted and encouraged in this peculiarly validating way. Her sunny disposition more than anything was a very bright spot after an extremely upsetting delivery and a scary night at the hospital.
     So, it is my attempt to recreate her sweet and cheery disposition that makes me approach new parents with such a positive attitude. Of course, loving all things mother/baby/childbirth/family also comes through in my encouragement and enjoyment of every couple's new baby. I so hope that even in a tiny way I've put a  measure of encouragement into their parenting journey as they welcome their new baby into their lives.
     Today brought an interesting acouple my way. How things played out with them both heartened and surprised me. I entered their room and began talking with them. Both were very intellignet and articulate. After I dispensed said car seat, I asked them, "Is there anything else I can get for you?" The mom, a tad bleary-eyed, asked, "Can I be discharged today?" We talked some about when she delivered and how it went. I saw no reason why she couldn't. However, I only said, "Let me talk to your nurse." After mentioning to her nurse the patient's request, the nurse quickly barked, "No she can't! She just delivered yesterday." I walked back into the room and told the patient what the nurse had said. "However," I added, "You can ask your nurse to ask your doctor. Your doctor is the one who will actually discharge you." I encouraged them to "sweetly and assertively" ask that the nurse call their doctor regarding their request. They chuckled at this suggestion and mentioned that they had already called the doctor's office to let him know she'd like to be discharged today. Good for you! I thought. I love patients who are smart and assertive.
     We began to talk more about the details surrounding her baby's birth. As her lovely birth story unfolded there was one very sad element in the whole blessed event: Dad had missed the delivery. The clincher?

IT WAS TOTALLY PREVENTABLE.

     Naturally, my "Childbirth-Should-Be-As-Positive-As-Possible-Including-Having-Your-Husband-At-Your-Baby's-Birth" hackles were raised. As we discussed more details about what happened, I explained why the nurses might have taken the course of action they did. I also agreed, though, that they could have done things differently to ensure that he was present for his baby's birth. I also suggested that he talk with the nurse manager of Labor and Delivery (I even provided him with her first and last name!) and/or that he write a letter explaining what happened, how it negatively impacted him, and how they could have specifically handled it better. This man's sadness and disappointment was palpable. My heart broke to see that. His sweet, upbeat wife was trying to reassure him that he was there for the most important part, her labor, and that he would be available for all the important details of caring for their new, darling, dimpled baby. I appreciated her efforts, but they were lost on her husband. I validated how he was not served by the short-sighted nursing care and how sad it was to miss his baby's birth. I encouraged them to speak up about it.

     And then I  did something  about it. (This is where the delightful surprise came in: I could take action to help in some small way to right this wrong they had experienced.) After bidding them farewell, I went down to the patient advocate's office. She is a lovely woman who holds herself with such composure and dignity, that I sincerely hope and pray that it translates into her ability to affect some sort of change in nursing policies on Labor and Delivery at Feel Better Hospital. I briefly described the situation, how the dad was visibly affected, pointed out how the nurses could've handled it differently and told her the patient's room number. She was very sympathetic and agreeable with me. At the end I said, "My husband missed one of our baby's births. It was devastating. It's a moment you can never get back." The depth of her understanding reflected in the sympathetic look she gave me. She reassured me that she would talk with the patient.
      How all that might make any difference, I don't know. I hope the couple is comforted by it. I hope the nurse manager and that particular nurse are made aware of it. I so hope that one dad is spared missing his baby's birth, with his wife frantically calling out for him, because I brought the issue to light in my small little corner of the world. Feel Better Hsopital should earn its name, instead of Feel Really Bad Hospital.

     I'd like to think that my volunteer activites aren't so shaped by all of my childbirth experiences, that I'm somehow past the effects of all that, but I'm not. They have shaped me into the person I am, for better or worse. I trust that God will use them to bring some redemptive benefits into this world however He sees fit.

Feel-Good Times At Feel Better Hospital

I can do this! No problem....

     Oh, the journey my volunteering work has taken me on! I was soooo hoping to volunteer on Labor and Delivery at Feel Better Hospital. It has not happened yet, nor do I think it ever will. The nursing director is a tad, well, spacey, and the nursing staff has no idea how useful a volunteer can be. One nurse told the volunteer coordinator, "Volunteers can't answer phones!" Oh, really?! What have I been doing all those years with that longish, rectangular thing that goes "brrring! brrring!" and when I hit "talk" someone's voice is heard through those little holes on the top of it?! Their loss, really. The painful part of the whole equation is the call I made to the volunteer coordinator at the hospital  (with a similar patient population) across town to see if and how they used volunteers on their labor and delivery ward. What she told me almost made me cry and salivate at the same time. It is truly remarkable and caters to volunteers with an interest in midwifery. Ohhh...sigh...if only it weren't the hospital that Julia was born at  and where Dr. XYZ works, I'd be there in a heartbeat.

However, after working on  your unit, I might be tempted to do this....

    Alas, it is not to be.
    However, the ebullient, charismatic director of nursing in Telemetry at FBH does have a vision for volunteers on her unit. And so, that is where I've been for a couple of hours on weekends. What adventures! Because of HIPAA, I'll provide rough sketches of some scenarios I've come across:
-the mind-numbingly exhausting deaf woman who was criticizing my sign language acquisition skills as she taught me how to finger spell my name....("No! You put your thumb up like this!")
-the food guy telling me that, in order to get mayonnaise and lettuce for my poor patient who's lunch never arrived, the nurse had to place an order into the computer...("You're new here, aren't you?" Well, it's more that I haven't figured out how to steal the tiny packets of mayo yet! "Where are the condiments, by the way?")
-taking the opportunity to distract a drug-seeking, demanding patient's wife to a smoking break, only to find myself pushing this wheelchair-bound woman around the hospital for someone with a lighter...
-singing hymns with an elderly "psych" patient loudly and cheerfully, and then having her ask me, "Are you black?" "Well, um, no. I'm white, last time I checked. When I tan, I get a little browner, but I'm still white."
-Hearing my poor mayo-starved patient heartily laugh at my comment about the "relationship" I had with mustard ("scant and rarely used") as I spread condiments on her sandwich that FINALLY included mayonnaise
-telling two bored, pesky patients, one of whom was bugging the nurse and doctor, that I'd take them down for a smoking break, but that they'd "better be good!" or they'd get me fired. "Oh, no, we'll be good!" And they were.
-Seeing a nurse smile and look at me, saying, "You're sweet" as I helped a man sit upright to eat his food
-Hearing a nurse say to me, "Thank you so much for your help. I told the nursing supervisor about you. You did so much more than I thought you would."
-Telling a patient that I didn't have a business card, as she requested, because "I'm just a volunteer." "Oh no, you're a lot more than a volunteer. Thank you so much for helping me today."
-Hearing many patients say, "You've been so sweet and helpful. Thank you so much." And really believing that they meant it.
-Leaving at the end of my short time each week, exhausted, spent, educated, and satisfied. Helping people in practical, tangible ways REALLY FEELS GOOD.
    Now, if I could just find a way to help pregnant women, their families, and the nurses that care for them....

Baby Steps and Pendants of Grace

     I took a baby step in my path to a nursing degree and then my midwifery degree (hopefully). I had the volunteer orientation at Feel Better Hospital in Big City today. Not too exciting or eventful, but necessary and the cafeteria food is tasty (they have diet Coke from the fountain, too!!!). It was the 2nd step on this path toward my new season of life and my career pursuit. Volunteering will not only look fabulous on nursing school applications, it will expose me to the hospital side of childbirth and put me into contact with nurses, midwives, and doctors who can guide, inform, and encourage me in my career ambitions. I'm putting myself in a great location and when all is said and done, so much about where you end up is who you know; "networking."
     Tomorrow I start with my first of four weeks at the Information Desk. I will then try out to the NICU "Cuddling" position where I get to hold preemies who need a loving, human touch. I'm also heading toward the Labor and Delivery Concierge where I get visitors refreshments, information, and ? etc. Both will be great spots to serve in. Perhaps I'll alternate between both positions. I'll see how everything unfolds.

     Tomorrow is Julia's 3rd birthday. That girl is a real kicker - literally! My Dad called her "irrepressible" and it is too true. She's really animated and fun. In her speech-delayed language, she plays with her dolls and acts out all sorts of scenarios that I don't quite understand. Yesterday she was making one of her dolls cry and it was hilarious.

My sweet and sassy Julia

     July 13th also brings back memories of her birth. In a sense, her birthday is also an anniversary of sorts. I feel relief that I'm three years away from that event that catapulted me into an inexplicably long season of grief, heartache, trauma, and just being a total mess. I think it was over 2  years before I began to feel more normal again. I will never be the same, however, but I think that the changes that have occurred in my heart, thinking, maturity and character are all profoundly good. God uses all things for his glory and simply put, I needed to be broken and put back together in a new, fresh, stronger way. Curiously enough, my scars have sort of become pendants of grace and strength. With all that I went through and experienced, I feel almost unmovable. Any tragedy that might come my way I feel totally prepared to handle. But God knows what the future holds and he is faithful.
     I'm revisiting that post I wrote regarding what I wished would've happened the morning Julia was born. http://childbirthcheerleader.blogspot.com/2010/09/writing-activity-to-help-with-closure.html and  http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2011/02/curious-mystery.html That story intrigues me, but I am confident that all that happened was carefully orchestrated to bring about the course of life I'm on right now. I feel God's peace and pleasure in this season of my life so clearly. Thank you, Lord.

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?!

     So, after several conversations with different nursing friends, I decided to volunteer at, well, let's call it "Feel Better Hospital." I need to give it a pseudonym to get into the habit of thinking, HIPAA compliance, HIPAA compliance, gotta' always think about Almighty HIPAA compliance...
     So, I called up the Volunteer coordinator, then received an e-mail from her with attachments to fill out. After finishing the volunteer application, I then met with her. She e-mailed me saying that I needed to go to this certain website to fill out the paperwork electronically for my background check. A day later, she got back to me saying that I needed to proceed with the health clearance. OK. I then called the health office at FBH (Feel Better Hospital) and ask if I can come in to get my TB test. Umm...1 1/2 hours later, a TB shot, a urine drug screen, a trip to the building across the street for blood work, a quick stop by my car to feed the meter, then head over to yet another building for a physical exam by a doctor. Huh?! "I had a physical exam with my doctor about two months ago. Do I need another one?" Nod and serious look, "Yes." Ok. When the medical assistant brought me the gown and said, "Here, change into this..." I clarified that I could leave my undergarments on. I was NOT going to completely undress for a silly physical. He told me I didn't have to. Dr. Charming walked in and quickly determined that I had a pulse, didn't have pneumonia, and could walk and chew gum at the same time. Hooray! And, then, I went home, my arms bandaged from fluids going in and fluids going out.
     Yikes! I thought I was going in for a simple TB test. Tomorrow I return to FBH with proof of my negative TB test from my doctor's office done 4 months ago as well as the reading on my left forearm of this current test. Because, you see, they need a two-step TB test. Of course they do!
     But it's all okay. Hopefully I'll be volunteering on Labor and Delivery and Postpartum at FBH soon! And then the adventures will really begin!

Perhaps Necessity Determines Feasibility….

     In short order: it appears that our family need for a second income is propelling me in the direction that my intellect, curiosity, and passions are heading in anyway. Coincidence? I don’t know.

     The furlough days agreed upon by the Los Angeles Teachers Union and Los Angeles Unified School District have been financially challenging to our family budget. The declining enrollment starting several years back and the changeover from year-round schools to traditional schools is also pointing to one significant problem: a sharp drop in Tim’s income. He made tens of thousands of dollars less last year than in previous years.  For well over a decade excellent job opportunities were available and Tim took them. That hard working man of mine has always said, “Make hay while the sun shines.” Indeed it did and he did.

     The sun isn’t shining so brightly anymore.

     We’ve thought about all sorts of solutions to this impending problem; selling our house and moving out to a much less expensive area, or my returning to work full-time as a teacher, or even the nursing school option. The challenge with selling our home is that we’d have to move so far away to make an appreciable difference that Tim would hardly see the kids, we’d uproot our well-established, nurturing social lives, and we’d be farther from our aging fathers. None of these options seem wise.

     So, I thought about going back to work as a special education teacher. I spent years training for this field.  I called an advisor at my college and she was stumped. “Well, last year we made such  big program changes that you might have to take many classes over again.” When I compared the new requirements to my transcripts I counted about 12 classes I’d have to retake. In effect, redo all my credential coursework. And although I love teaching and working with kids, I really don’t feel inclined to take a job that limits me to a classroom full time away from my kids for a salary that would be mildly beneficial. With all of the cuts to every school district, the only jobs available for a new teacher would be the really rotten positions. Oh, no thanks! 

     We also thought about taking in a child or two for in-home daycare. The money, for the time and responsibility, is not significant. I feel weary at the prospect of being the full-time caregiver for an infant or toddler because that’s just about all I’ve done for the last 15+ years.  I would really NOT prefer to do that anymore at this point in my life. But, it still is a possibility and one I haven’t ruled out. 

     What seems most logical, for long-term flexibility (home school options), career options, and beneficial income possibilities is a nursing degree. Particularly, to advance on to a Masters of Science in Nurse-Midwifery. After much research on the internet I discovered that Cal State Fullerton has an exceptional, albeit competitive program. The total schooling and work experience to reach my goal would easily be about 8 years. Probably more. A couple of those years would be some intense time away from the girls. This is what weighs on my mind the most. However,  if I know that season has a clear beginning and an end, then I can prepare for that time. I know in the long run I will have greater flexibility as to when and how much I work while doing something that greatly interests me. I will also be  earning an income that is commensurate with our financial needs (raising six kids gets more expensive as they get older!) and that makes all the sacrifices more palpable. Tim and I see so many more benefits in this option than anything on the table currently.

     The biggest challenge for me at this point is finding a junior college where I can take the pre-requisite science classes I need to even apply for nursing school. In the Los Angeles area that is no small feat. Wow! All the junior colleges are impacted. I have a plan, though, and I have some promising prospects. The helpful thing about this direction is that Tim and I are in agreement and will take the plan one semester at a time. There is not a significant financial or time cost with taking one class a semester at a junior college. At any time we could decide to stop the whole process and not much will be lost.  I am trying to approach this new development in my life with a very open mind and a guarded heart.

     Much prayer and communication will continue. I know God is faithful. Whatever he has planned for me and our family he will bring to pass. 

Too Late For Me?

     So I missed my calling. Years ago, as a nineteen year-old, I chose to pursue a career in teaching. I wasn't sure which career direction to pursue since law school had become quickly unappealing with 90 hour work weeks for a measly $30K a year. Besides, Los Angeles has too many lawyers anyway. (Sorry my lawyer friends - I don't mean you in particular). My mom was dying at the time as well and teaching seemed to be a secure job route that was somewhat appealing. I had no interest in medicine whatsoever. Blood-yuck. Body parts, especially mangled-totally gross. Bodily fluids - icky. Moaning, hurting, whining people - forget about it!
     And then I got pregnant with my 6th child. I knew she'd be my last. For some odd reason, I was intensely interested in all things pregnancy related. After she was born, her traumatic birth made me search high and low and far and wide for answers as to the medical nature of what happened. After reading countless posts from labor and delivery nurses, midwives, and obstetricians, as well as many books by birth professionals, I became intensely interested in pregnancy and childbirth, and women's health issues overall. How odd, it seemed. And yet my knowledge base grew and my interest in medical things increased significantly. This care and compassion toward women and their health issues became heightened in me. A woman would tell me an experience she had health -wise, or pregnancy and childbirth-wise, and I would be looking it up on the internet to understand more about it.
     I found myself looking into the nursing program at PCC and various doula programs. I started this blog. While continuing to read many websites and blogs about pregnancy and childbirth, I realized I would never have the patience or self-control to be a doula. I would be too tempted to speak up against dcotors and nurses about "suboptimal" care I felt my client was getting. But most of all....
     Once I saw a baby born I wouldn't be able to help myself. I would want to be those hands guiding that baby out, and encouraging the baby's father to be as involved as I could get him in catching his baby. I would want to help that woman and her husband own their birth experience as much as they could and be the guiding expertise and care in that woman's pregnancy, labor and delivery, and postpartum period. It would be one of the greatest joys and challenges I would ever do on a regular basis. Not unlike motherhood in general, actually.
     And yet, it's too late for me. I've done extensive research on this issue as well. I'd have a couple of pre-req's at PCC, and then I'd enter their two year nursing program. Then, the Nizhoni Midwifery Institutehttp://www.midwiferyatnizhoni.com/ would be another 3 intense years of midwifery training. The Nizhoni Institute, based in San Diego, is the only California Medical Board-approved midwife training school of its kind in the entire state.  I would want to be state certified and so I'd go there.
     However, these are all the reasons I don't ever foresee being a midwife:
1) Financial cost
2)Time Cost
3) Emotional Cost
4)Mental Cost
5)I have six daughters who need me to be present in their lives in all the ways mentioned above. I would not spend those costs on a career and sacrifice my daughters' well being and their needs. I don't pass judgement on woman who do choose careers - not at all. But that road is not for me. At least not now.
     I am open to all sorts of possibilities, however. You never know what the future might hold. For now, I'm holding my daughters close and putting their needs first. We'll see where my medical and women's health interests take me. In the big picture, whatever is meant to be will happen.

A Writing Activity to Help With Closure Regarding My Last Delivery

     In my mind’s eye, and my most vivid imagination, I replay the scene that could’ve been. It’s a warm, humid Sunday morning on July 13^th, 2008 and I’m lying in bed. I’m wearing my sleeveless pajama top and matching shorts, the one with red and pink roses on them. I’m hugely pregnant, lying on my left side, on the left side of the bed. The cheap white fan is slowly whirring cool air toward me. The house is quiet. Tim and the children have left for church about 10 minutes ago. I had been lying in bed all morning long and was relieved to finally have the house to myself. The peace and quiet enveloped my thoughts just as my soft, goose-down pillow cradled my head.

     Only an hour earlier, at around 8:30 am, Dr. ------ had called. “Hi Laura, it’s ----  ------. What happened?! They said you left the hospital shortly after arriving. I thought you were going to have your baby today.”

     “I wasn’t in labor, Dr. ------, and I didn’t want to be in the hospital. I had to convince my husband that all the contractions had stopped and that it was a false alarm. I was just really tired and wanted to be at home. Even now, I’m only having sporadic, weak contractions.”

     “So you‘re not cramping anymore?”

     “No. That kind of tapered off.”

     “Okay. Well, if things start up again, or you start bleeding, call me. Okay?”

     “All right. Thanks for calling. And I’ll let you know if I start contracting again regularly or something changes.”

     “Good. Well, have a nice day.”

     “You, too. Keep Cool.”

     With that, I help Tim get the kids ready for church and then head back to bed to doze off. After the house is totally quiet, and I’ve gone pee for the 10^th time that morning, I fall into a deeper sleep. I have strange, wake- up- prematurely- and- then- go- back- to- sleep- again dreams. In this dream I’m riding a bicycle down an empty country road. There are storm clouds up ahead and I keep thinking, “I better get home before the rain starts. I don’t have a rain jacket. I keep cycling, all the while thinking, “Laura, get home! It’s going to rain soon! Get home!” And yet, I keep riding. For some reason, I felt compelled to stay on that road and reach my destination, although I had no clear idea where that was. I just kept riding absent-mindedly, all the while thinking, “Laura, you don’t have a rain jacket! It’s going to rain soon! Get out of the rain!” The dream ends and then what seems like moments later I wake up feeling so refreshed. I lay in bed for about 10 minutes enjoying the sweet feelings of restful sleep. I feel Julia moving inside me and I talk to her. “Hey baby! We almost ejected you last night. But you just weren’t ready yet.” As I was feeling my belly and smiling at the thought of having a little extra time to enjoy this last baby of mine inside me, I had a tightening around my abdomen. Humh…I thought…Maybe today will be the day after all. But, really, I didn’t think so.

     With that, I rolled out of bed and got dressed, admiring my huge, very pregnant belly in the mirror. I hopped in the Corolla and went to McDonald’s for an extra large diet Coke. I arrived back home and delved into the yummy, scrumptious lemon meringue tarts from Costco that were left over from my trip to Newport Beach on Friday. I perused the Sunday paper, ate tasty bite after bite of lemon meringue tart, and washed it down with big gulps of diet Coke. Yum! Totally heavenly! (Perhaps not the most nutritious meal for my baby, but it’s a hard habit to break. And all my girls have been very healthy, besides.) And I enjoyed the quiet of my home. So quiet, so peaceful….

     And then Tim came home with the girls. I made them sandwiches and then told the girls that after a nap I would take them swimming at Bumpa’s. They were willing to rest quietly. Tim headed for a nap immediately after eating. The sleepless night and busyness at church totally wiped him out, like I knew it would. After settling Daisy down for a nap, and putting on a movie for the other girls, I lay down again with Tim and drifted off.

    About an hour or so later, while listening to the murmuring of the girls in the other room chatting, arguing, and whining while watching their movie, I decide to get up. I’m feeling tired and groggy, but know that getting out and spending time with Dad and Karen will be good for me. I can tell them what happened last night and get their take on it, as well as their reassurance and comfort.

     So, after rounding up all the girls' swim things and towels, we head out the door. I arrive at Dad and Karen’s and the girls mill around for a little bit while I talk to Dad and Karen. I explain the false alarm, Tim’s unbearable anxiety, my 1:30 am call to Dr. ------, my trip to the hospital, and then my decision to go back home. They listen attentively, smile, nod their heads, and offer their care and support. Someone says something, and then we all laugh. I head out the door to sit and watch the girls swim. Karen joins me about 15 minutes later and we chat about false labor, “frequent fliers” in the hospital during her nursing days, and lots of labor and delivery stuff. I always love those conversations. And then it was time to go. I collect the girls and all their stuff, we give hugs and kisses to Bumpa and Grandma Karen, and then head to In-N-Out for some burgers and fries, and another diet Coke for me, and then head home.

     Tim is home, awake, and reading. I plop the food on the kitchen table and then begin to serve the girls, Tim, and myself. I eat quickly and then tell Tim that I’d like to lay down and rest. I had felt more sporadic contractions throughout the day and was feeling very uncomfortable at this point. So I lay down and watched some TV. While watching TV over the next 2 hours, and letting Tim get the girls ready for bed, I feel more contractions. They’re painless, but increasing in that tightening feeling. I begin to time them – every 10-17 minutes is their range. I think, “Should I get up and walk around?” Yes, so I get up, use the bathroom, and talk to the girls as they’re getting ready for bed.

     I go to sleep that night and drift in and out of the awareness that I keep having contractions. They next day ensues with sporadic and increasing contractions. Finally, on Tuesday early morning they feel more intense and I think that this is the day. At round 4:30 am I call Dr. ------. I tell him things are getting more intense and he recommends I come in right away. We call Ann, who comes over and then 1 hour later, we leave for the hospital. My labor progresses well, I walk around, have my H20 broken, and then things get really intense until the epidural is administered. Relief! At 10:00 am I have Ann bring the girls in. Around 10:20 I feel the pressure intensify and I tell the nurse. She calls Dr. ------. About 10 minutes later he shows up, says hello to the girls, and then I begin to push about 5 minutes later. As the baby is crowning, I ask if Tim can catch the baby. Dr. ------ says, “Sure!” and Tim puts his hands over Dr. ------’s and they both guide Julia out together. The girls are on the side of me watching with big eyes and even bigger smiles. Julia is brought out, I let out a yelp of relief, she’s placed on my belly, and her cord is then clamped shortly after. Tim cuts the cord, the girls gather around, oohing and ahhing, and I smile and whimper in delight. My sweet little Julia! She looks so much like Leanne! Those big, round lips and that sweet little cry! Oh! What joy! 

     It is an intensely beautiful and sweet family moment. Such beauty and healing and redemption. Dr. ------ delivers the placenta, mentioning that everything looks fine. He then leaves the room. About 10 minutes later he returns and they prepare to take me to surgery. Prior to that, I try to put Julia on the breast and she is only a little interested in nursing. She suckles a little, and then kind of slips off the breast. I gaze down at her so in awe of her arrival and the beautiful birth that had occurred.My precious last baby - this baby that I had so wanted.

     This is what I imagined it could have been like. In my heart, I hold onto this picture. Somehow it helps. The 13 page grievance I filed against the doctor and the hospital tells a very different story, however. I’ll just hold on to this one, though.