Sullivan's Birth Story

Here's Sullivan's birth story... for people who like that sort of thing. Heads up, it does contain the works vagina and catheter. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I'm pretty sure the cherry coke made me go into labor. That or dancing at prom. But my money's on the cherry coke. Tuesday, the 6th, Henry and I went to my parent's house for dinner. I rarely drink soda - as in once a month or so I'll have a sip of Jared's. I also don't drink coffee. But seeing that can of cherry coke in the door of my parent's fridge inspired an irresistible urge to guzzle. I drank it down within ten minutes.

At dinner, I told my parent's about the phone message I'd gotten from my father-in-law earlier that day. It was his birthday and he was hoping it was going to be Sullivan's, too. My dad asked if I thought it might be. I shook my head confidently saying there was no way I'd have him that day.

Henry stayed over at my parents and Jared and I stayed up way too late chatting. I went to sleep around 1am. At 2:30, I woke up feeling contractions. They weren't too dramatic, but definitely happening. I waited a bit to wake Jared up figuring this whole thing would take awhile and one of us should have some sleep. But after hanging out in the living room by myself for a bit and them not going away, I decided he should probably be awake for this. At the birth center (with Henry) they wanted more of the labor to happen at home so told us to call them when the contractions were 4-1-1: four minutes a part, one minute long, for one hour. When I asked the doctors here, they said, "Oh no, don't wait that long. Call as soon as they are regular. 6-1-1 or even earlier."

By the time we started tracking around 3, mine were 2.5-1-1.

In between moans, I finished packing my bag and we set off for the hospital, 30 minutes away. Just like in the movies, they brought out a wheelchair and I was rushed to Labor and Delivery. They hooked me up with monitors and such, stuck an IV in my hand and I put on their gown. I was already seven centimeters dilated. My water hadn’t broken and they were waiting for my doctor to arrive. They quickly noticed the baby’s heart rate was dropping during contractions. It felt a little like déjà vu as the same thing happened with Henry. However, this time we could clearly hear his heart. It went from the horse-racing hoof sound of duh-dump, duh-dump, duh-dump at 140 beats per minute to the terrifying

Dump

Dump

Dump

They kept changing my position and made me wear oxygen. My doctor arrived around 4am and broke my water. With his calm voice, he brought up the c-section possibility and Jared, after hearing that insanely low heart rate for the last half-hour said, “Don’t dilly dally. If you need to do it, do it!” The doctor said they didn’t know why the heart rate was dropping – that it could be a cord thing or that the baby was just pissed off at how quick labor was going. He said they’d take me to the OR and if, along the way, my labor progressed to the point where he could use a vacuum for a VBAC, we’d still go that route.

I was rushed downstairs to the white, bright room I remembered from Henry’s birth. This time, they made Jared stay outside until they assessed. It was determined I’d need to be knocked out completely and emergency c-section was a go. There was a sweet woman holding my left hand and lots of running around. My eyes were mostly closed as I was still having intense contractions and was now lying flat on an operating table with very little to brace myself with. The nice woman left and was replaced with a blurry, deep-voiced, gruff terrorist who proceeded to tell me she had to insert a catheter. And she couldn’t wait until I was knocked out. And then slapped the inside of one of my thighs saying “Open up” while I was having a contraction. Then there was shooting pain, I’m pretty sure I screamed several times and she told the doctor, “I think I put it in wrong. Is that her vagina?” Lovely woman.

Eventually, my doctor did her job and they knocked me out (with a suffocating rubber mask that made me ask them if they were killing me). Turns out the cord was wrapped very tightly around his neck which is what was causing those practically flatlining heart “dumps.” Sullivan Brady McCannell was born at 5:21am. Less than three hours after I woke up feeling the first contractions. He weighed 7lbs 10.8oz and was 20.5 inches long. Perfectly healthy boy. Just really wanted to get out. It was the cherry coke, I tell you.