Veda's grand entrance

We welcomed our impatient, beautiful little girl, Veda on Thursday April 16, 2009 at 4:43pm. What was supposed to be a routine office visit to satisfy my nerves, actually turned into the special delivery of the tiniest package.

The evening of April 15th I began to feel something wasn’t right. This feeling typically happened in between my scheduled monthly doctor appointments, which often made the wait unbearable. This time however, I decided I wasn’t going to just wait it out until my next appointment. Thursday morning I made a call to the doctor's office and explained that I wasn’t feeling as much movement as I’d like and would love to come in for some reassurance. Since I vocalized my concern about the lack of movement they scheduled me for a stress test before the 11:45 appt to see my doctor to discuss any concerns.

When I arrived for the stress test, I was hooked up to some monitors that followed the fetal movement and heart rate of the baby. The tech then performed an ultrasound to measure the fluid and looked things over. She said everything was measuring out and looked great. She said that my baby was actually very active, but there’s just a lot you can’t always feel at the surface at this stage of pregnancy. She kept me hooked up to the monitors for a few more minutes while she went about other tasks. All of a sudden she came over to me and had me roll from side to side moving the monitors. There wasn’t anything alarming about her behavior until she switched on a light that notified the OBGYN she was needed. When the doctor came in she explained that the baby’s heart rate had taken an unexplainable drop. They didn’t like how far it dropped and how long it took for it to recover. The doctor put a call in to have me moved over to the labor and delivery department for further observation. She said it was probably just a fluke that the heart rate dropped like that, but they would need to hook me up for several hours to be sure that nothing serious was going on with the baby. They were just being precautious I was told.

I moved into the labor and delivery building where I was going to be treated in the triage room. I was again hooked up to the monitors. I called Andy to see if he would bring me a book or something as I had nothing to help me pass the time. I wasn’t sure how long they were going to need me for observation, I was just told it could be several hours. Before Andy showed up there was another drastic heart rate drop, but again there wasn’t a lot of panic that I could read from any of the staff. They casually moved me to a more “comfortable” room, and I continued to believe that this was nothing, and that I would be going home in a few hours.

Once in the more comfortable room they had me laying on my left away from the monitors. Everything seemed calm. I had a bedside ultrasound done to try and detect if there was something wrong with the umbilical cord, maybe she was laying on it, or squeezing it. Again, nothing looked out of the ordinary. The doctor came in to talk to me about receiving a steroid shot. She explained that this would be a two part series to help mature the lungs IF my baby had to be delivered early. This was the first mention of the delivery word, but I wasn’t too worried as my ears heard it, as if for some reason way down the road your baby came early she would have a head start on her lung development. I would need two doses of the shot for it to be productive, with the second dose to be given 24 hours later. This sounded good enough to me, so she gave me the shot. Not much time had passed before I received a visit from the anesthesiologist. She came in to introduce herself and asked me a few questions. She said that she didn’t plan on seeing me later but just wanted to check out a few things – like the inside of my mouth and find out about my allergies. She was very nice and her visit seemed harmless enough. I probably should’ve caught on that something was happening, but for what ever reason I was clueless. I just thought, wow usually people don’t indulge my need for reassurance to this extent.

Luckily Andy showed up at this point, this is about when I checked out mentally and Andy checked in...

My Thursday started the same as every other Thursday had for the previous three years. I knew that Jamie was planning to go to the doctor for a check-up. She needed some peace of mind as something was still not sitting well with her. For as long as I’ve known her, she has always been overly cautious and concerned when it came to all matters medical.

When I reached Jamie, she was in a large room in the labor and delivery unit. She was hooked-up only to two small sensors that read and record the baby’s heart beat and one sensor on her finger that records her own pulse. Although she was calm to the point of boredom, I noticed at least five staff coming and going from the room. Many wore the official type of clothing that only a medical degree could afford.

As I sat at her bedside, her look was saying “I shouldn’t have come here today. I am a paranoid pregnant person taking the resources from real pregnant mothers with real needs.”

The doctors told me that they were monitoring the baby’s heart rate. Although the heart rate was staying in the normal zone of 140 to 160 beats per minute, it would occasionally dip to 80 BPM. This was their concern. They did not want it to dip for the last time, never to rebound.

“We are going to transfer you to St. Vincent for precautionary reasons. If we decide that she needs to be born today, we want her born in the best facility possible.” Said Doctor Goldor

The words “Born Today” mortified Jamie and I, separately but also similarly. I thought for certain that my only role in today’s appointment would be to bring Jamie a book. But that was no matter. My role now was to help continue the course of caution.

Then, as I was taking down Jamie’s dictated list of possessions needed for her next room across town, the monitor dipped to 80 again. At that moment I knew that there would be no trip to St. Vincent- not for us anyway. And in an instant, Dr Goldor glided into the room. “We are going to have this baby here, now!” Jamie’s face produced a look that I hadn’t seen before. She tried to enter a vote in the matter, but their minds were made up. We were to deliver via c-section right away.

For me, the next few hours passed in ten minutes. They are best summed-up as follows:

Surgical scrubs (I looked smart and doctorly)
Pacing in empty room waiting for nurse to bring me in. (Maybe I scrubbed-down to quickly)
Sitting w/ Jamie in cold operating room. (that was a weird place)
Bawling without control (me not her)
Walking and bawling, chasing the nurses that were carrying the baby out of the room like a strange game of rugby. (actually they told me to follow them out)
Bawling with the Panda team. Once I realized that I was competing with our newborn for the attention of the highly specialized, premature baby transport team, I decided to man-up. I blew my nose, cleared my throat, puffed-up my chest, and started bawling again.


Veda was taken by Jamie’s recovery room for a good luck kiss goodbye. The rest of the day truly is a blur. I can only remember the previous events because it was the wildest ride I’ve ever been on. Now, we are on another.

We continue to visit Veda every day. We chose to only recognize the hopeful and positive feedback that we are given by the truly fantastic medical team at OHSU (St. Vincent’s was full- still is). I’ve been in many hospitals, mostly for my own accidents, and never have I been surrounded with such a culture of competence, compassion, and empathy. To that, we’d also like to recognize our mothers and fathers (grandma’s and grandpa’s) who’ve proven to be as selfless now, as when they first became parents. We are really thankful to be apart of them, and impressed by their actions. Also, our friends and co-workers have shown similar selfless love and we thank them for that. It takes a lot of positive thoughts and prayers to make a situation like this pan out. This one will.