Stay With Me
Lou Sicoli
Published by Lou Sicoli at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Lou Sicoli
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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This book is dedicated to the strongest woman I know; a best friend, a wife, a mother, the love of my life and so much more. I love you Jenn, and I'm thankful every day that you chose to fight to stay with us.
This book is also for the two boys that helped carry her through that day, and continue to amaze and delight and frustrate and drive me to have a drink every once and awhile...
And I wouldn't change a thing about them, as I couldn't imagine my life without them. I love you Max and Nico, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you both...
*note - some names have been changed throughout the book*
...she doesn't seem to be clotting...we need more blood...fresh, frozen plasma...her blood pressure is too low...but we need to go back in...
..blood pressure keeps dropping...this isn't working...
Lou, don't leave my side...I'm so scared...
Chapter ONE
...we've got nothing to worry about...we're old pros, remember?
…this time, things are going to be different...everything’s under control, we can handle anything....
Thursday, June 18th, 2009
8pm
Anticipation had been building within us for the past couple of days. My wife, Jenn, and I had been eagerly awaiting the birth of our second child. We'd had our first, Max, almost three years earlier. At that time, we didn't find out whether the baby was going to be a boy or a girl, and we didn't this time either. I thought of it as one of life's last great surprises, and didn't want to ruin it. Jenn was on the fence - she liked the idea of preparing ahead of time since she knew how busy it would be once we brought a second child into the house. But she relented, and the secret was kept.
The baby was already overdue, but we were handling it in stride. We'd been through this before, and in our 12 years together (6 of which as husband and wife) we managed to handle things as a true partnership. We felt like we could handle anything that was thrown at us.
We had been to the hospital earlier that day, so the fact that my wife's water broke wasn’t too much of a surprise. In fact, compared to the scene the morning of our first son’s birth, we seemed to be handling this situation like professionals. Jenn went upstairs to confirm that indeed, her water had broken – and I had gone to calling the midwife to come by and check her out as well. I also started gathering things such as the hospital bag, some items from the refrigerator…all the while starting to time the contractions. We remained calm, ran through checklists in our minds to ensure we didn’t miss anything and continued trying to chart any patterns which were emerging.
Where the contractions with Max came with escalating consistency and increasing pain, these were different. There wasn’t a real pattern, but after a quick visit from Evangeline, the midwife, it was deemed in our best interest to head to the hospital.
Evangeline reflected the same demeanor that we were currently projecting. Cool, calm and under control. Evangeline was a veteran midwife from St. Jacobs Midwives – and if there is such a thing for this field, she was famous in the area. She also came highly recommended to us from close friends. In our dealings with her there was never any doubt as to her immense expertise. I enjoyed Evangeline's matter-of-factness, but my wife sometimes worried that her concerns may have been dismissed too easily or not heard.
Those fears would be dissuaded when we met our backup, Stella.
Stella was different. Where Evangeline was the technical and by-the-books guide, Stella was the emotional and empathetic counterpart.
It was that balance Stella provided was what appealed more to my wife.
They seemed to be the perfect duo for us. Our circle of friends had joked many times in the past that I was “dead inside” with my emotions rivaling that of a robot, while my wife was considered one of the most empathetic people we knew. It appeared that this dynamic was reflected in our midwifery team.
Thursday, June 18th, 2011
8:45pm
We hopped into our van, but before I did, I happened to look around and take note of the night sky surrounding us. Not something I’m always known for doing – appreciating the little things that life sometimes has to offer – but nonetheless, today seemed like the day to be taking stock.
It was an amazing summer night – cool but not cold, with the sun just about to start setting; you could tell it had been a great day, and the next day would be nice as well. There were few clouds in the sky, most tinged with deep blues and pinks. I even surprised myself in noticing the oncoming night with the craziness usually surrounding a birth about to encompass us. We left our oldest son, the almost-three-year-old Max, in the care of Jenn's sister Marcie, who had been living with us for the past couple of years. We figured that if this birth went as the first had gone, we may even be home by tomorrow without Max having to enter the hospital. But we didn't want to get ahead of ourselves, and promised to keep Marcie updated via BlackBerry messages.
As we pulled away towards the hospital, Jenn popped in some music for the drive - Bon Iver; and it seemed like a very suiting choice. In my head, I felt like this could have been a soundtrack for a movie – young couple, heading the hospital for the birth of their baby. To be fair, this is something I do seem to think about often – store away a bank of songs that would be the right fit for certain cinematic scenes.
I had always wondered what it would be like to be a "music supervisor" for a movie or television show. They're the people that choose songs for soundtracks – the songs for the opening scene where the movie title splashes onto the screen, the songs that play over the credits, the songs playing during that pivotal dramatic scene where the hero and heroine are driving cross-country to find whatever life-defining moment is waiting for them. I had read features in Rolling Stone and Spin magazines about people who made this a career, and I thought no job would be cooler than that. I still remember the picture of the guy - in his apartment in New York, sitting on a couch with a massive bookshelf behind him - except it wasn't filled with books, but with records and CDs. Just sitting there smiling, realizing that he had the best job on earth, and everyone should be envious.
Of course, I mentioned none of this to my wife that night. I could tell that Jenn was concentrating, and I had a few more important jobs of my own, as I timed contractions and focused on the road.
Well I met you at the blood bank
We were looking at the bags
Wondering if any of the colors
Matched any of the names we knew on tags
You said see look it that’s yours
Stacked on top with your brothers
See how they resemble one anothers
Even in their plastic little covers
And I said
I know it well
That secret that you know
That you don't know how to tell
It fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that its good girl
Cause it's running you with red
Blood Bank
Bon Iver
Chapter TWO
…we’ve waited so long to meet you and you’re finally here…
and you're perfect…
Thursday, June 18th, 2009
9pm
As it had been the case with everything leading up to it, the drive to the hospital was marked by the fact that it was extremely uneventful, especially compared to our first birth experience...
***
October 9th, 2006
7am
Max was born on Thanksgiving weekend in October, and the morning of his birth was a bit of a whirlwind. The weekend itself was spent with family, both sides including parents, our sisters (my two older with their spouses, Jenn’s one younger) and our one nephew.
Everyone piled into our home for a big dinner, with all seemingly staring at Jenn, particularly her belly, awaiting the birth of a child that was already a week overdue.
The pregnancy itself hadn’t been the smoothest for my wife. Midway through, she began to experience major abdominal and back pain, which was eventually diagnosed as kidney stones. She spent an entire weekend, unable to get into a comfortable position either standing, sitting or laying down. I tried rubbing her back and massaging her, but no relief came until the stones themselves were passed. She had joked that if she was able to withstand that pain, child birth would be a breeze.
Jenn had also taken many precautions, whether the risk was large or small. She changed her diet to restrict coffee, sushi and cheeses such as feta and brie, all of which being favorites which came with intense cravings throughout the pregnancy. Thankfully, the smell of wine turned her stomach, or the withdrawal from that could have been the straw that broke the pregnant lady’s back. But giving up the feta hurt.
Back to the Thanksgiving weekend – we had taken multiple walks throughout the neighborhood, ate spicy food and tried every old wives tale for trying to speed along a birth. Nothing seemed to be working. As everyone from my side of the family left to spend the night at my sister’s place an hour away, my in-laws stayed and we all settled in for the night.
The next morning, lying in bed, my wife and I sat talking, when an audible “pop” was heard, emanating directly from my wife’s belly. It was one of the strangest things both of us had ever experienced. It also didn’t take long for us to realize that her water had broken and we had finally begun the process of meeting our first child.
We tried to act calm and cool; bags were already packed, plans were made, checklists checked. Jenn went to grab something to eat for strength, and I brushed my teeth. It didn’t take long to realize that the pace we were moving at wasn’t going to cut it.
Contractions quickly escalated…10mins, to 7mins, to 5mins apart. We had to get moving to the hospital, and fast. So we left our house with my mother-in-law coming along with us, and sped away to the hospital…literally speeding, through a few stop signs, red lights. We arrived on King Street, the location of the Grand River Hospital in Kitchener. One problem – Thanksgiving weekend meant Thanksgiving Day parade. The streets were already blocked off with policemen and people lining the sidewalks to see the oncoming floats. I made a quick decision, turned onto the street, and decided that we were going to be the first entrants into the parade. People looked confused, but I waved to the crowd and made it seem like I was allowed to do such things.
I pulled into the hospital, but immediately forgot the instructions received on our orientation day. Instead of going to reception, I went to the Emergency entrance. Flustered, I dropped off my wife with my mother-in-law in charge, and grabbed a nurse to help them out. I then promised to go and quickly park and meet them upstairs.
Once we were in a room, things continued to progress at what felt like a frantic pace – the frequency of contractions and especially the pain my wife was experiencing was ramping up. Part of our initial “birth plan” was to try to have a natural birth, but that didn’t seem to be coming to fruition. The pain was intensifying, and it was determined that the position of the baby was posterior, which meant that it was facing the wrong way to be born. It also meant that it put added pressure on Jenn’s back. This made the usual calming and pain-relief techniques useless.
With the frequency of contractions increasing, the decision was finally made to get the epidural. This was approximately at 12pm, and that also seemed to be the point at which everything slowed down. Jenn was able to now tolerate the pain, but her body seemed to still be tense and progression of labour appeared to grind to a halt. Doctors were not too concerned, as their main focus was for the baby to actually turn prior to pushing, so this slowdown allowed some time for that to happen naturally.
When I was born, there had been complications as well. I had the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, which led to a very tense birth experience for (apparently) me and my mother. This was something at the back of both of our minds when the doctors described the less-than-optimal position of our baby, so we were content to give them some time to turn around.
Thankfully we were not alone during this time, which would have led us to stew over the possible complications which may arise or the lack of activity which was occurring at this point. Jenn’s mother and sister were there, and my mother was on her way with my sister as well. But we also had our doula.
We had looked into having a midwife help us with the birth, but were a little wary. We didn't know exactly what it would entail, and thought it would strictly involve a home birth or no-matter-what-no-drugs natural birth. Those two factors were enough for us to just go with the traditional birth experience - in the "safety" of a hospital with doctors and nurses.