I've heard that verse a thousand times before, but its meaning in my heart has been forever changed.
On September 13, 2017 at exactly 12:03 pm our beloved Landon took his first breath and entered the world.
The waiting, the bodily turmoil, the bittersweet moments, and the love deeper than the ocean...this is my promise to leave no detail behind.
This is the story of Landon's birth.
"He's just running late, Mama," Emerson said to me after the due date had passed. Apparently she had been eavesdropping on my repetitive conversations with anyone who called or texted and asked the million dollar question: "When's that baby coming?"
While there I got a call from my Mom about my grandfather. He was verbally unresponsive and had been taken to the ER. They were already on their way to see him and took my grandmother with them. She ended up falling at the hospital during her visit and fractured her hip badly enough to require surgery. This happened three days before my due date.
The next morning after my shower I was almost positive that my water had broken, so I called the doctor. Long story short- after a trip to triage and a couple of tests they determined that whatever it was- was not my water.
Oops.
That afternoon we went to visit both of my grandparents in the hospital. This would also be one of our last visits with Papa...and we had no idea.
Could this entire situation get any crazier? Of course it could. My middle name is Carlson.
Irma Who?
My maternity leave was supposed to start on September 5th, but the due date came and went. At my doctor's appointment that week they reminded me that the due date is merely an estimate and that I could go 1-2 weeks later. The thought of that sent me into a tailspin; I already felt like a seal stuffed in a sausage link. So they scheduled an ultrasound for the infamous September 11th. The girl who booked the appointment said in the nicest way possible, "I hope you don't make it to this date." You and me both, honey.
In the meantime a little storm was brewing in the Atlantic named Irma; only the strongest hurricane recorded in decades, and there was talk about it hitting SC directly. Thus began my weatherly 'affair' with Ed Piotrowski and his 8:00 pm live updates on the projected path.
I had come to terms with the fact that I could very well give birth on 9/11 during a category 5 hurricane. I mean WHAT is this life?!?
So we stocked up on formula, water, batteries, you name it in case that happened.
The Wait
Every time I entered a room the Jeopardy theme song might as well have been playing. Each day I wondered WHEN my sweet boy would make his appearance, and at every appointment they would tell me that I wasn't dilated and there was no progress. If I heard one more word about dilation I thought I'd scream.
Seriously...WHAT was my son doing in there?!?
Please hear me when I say that I completely understand the dangers of early labor and was beyond thankful to have carried to term. I can also tell you that once the due date passes every day, hour, and minute seems like an eternity.
I should have just put this portrait on auto-reply and figured at this rate I should start shopping for a maternity costume for Halloween.
The day was 9/11. The doctor's office called early that morning and was closing after lunch due to weather concerns; they wanted us to come in ASAP for our ultrasound. The on-call doctor said that I was dilated 2 cm and that all looked well but that they didn't want me going any longer; I was almost a week late already. The induction was scheduled for that Wednesday, and we were to report to the hospital at 6:00 am.
I'm not a morning person, but the night before Landon's birthday was like every Christmas Eve and first day of school anxiety all slammed into one. Fortunately Jamie and Chris had come by a few days earlier with a puzzle to kill some time.
Delivery Day
We gathered all of our bags (you know by now how much I overpack) and set off for the hospital. I had no idea what was about to go down, and anyone who saw our luggage probably thought we were expecting quadruplets.
We checked in and waited a few minutes for a room while making small talk with another couple who was also being induced. We wished them well before being escorted to our room. Before I knew it Ryan was putting on gloves and picking something up off the floor. What was it? French fries. Apparently they were so concerned with cleaning the actual bed that the fries on the floor went unnoticed. We got a good laugh.
McLabor, anyone?!
Soon afterwards my IV was started, and they were waiting on the doctor to make his rounds to administer Pitocin, which kickstarts labor. Ryan was sipping his coffee, and I was flipping through the TV channels as if we were at a Bed and Breakfast. But things were about to get interesting very quickly.
Just like last time they asked me for my "birth plan," so I told the nurse that mine could be summed up in one word: "EPIDURAL." And that's precisely what she wrote on the board in my room.
My doctor made his rounds early and came in to check me. I HATE cervical checks; they're horribly uncomfortable from every possible angle.
I was 2 centimeters dilated, so he said that it was time to break my water.
And thus, he took a nice little tool and did just that.
"OWWWW!"
But there was no turning back; the Pitocin was already flowing through my veins. The nurse told me that it would take 45 minutes to get the epidural once ordered and to let me know how soon I wanted it. At this point I was still watching Good Morning America as if I had a ladies' tea party to attend in an hour.
"I don't think I need it yet," I told her, worrying that it might wear off by the time I was really desperate. But I spoke too soon. Just then the contractions started, and they were incredibly painful.
"ALRIGHT, I NEED IT NOW!"
Within minutes another member of the medical staff came in rolling a huge cart. Carts carry happy things like ice cream and lemonade, and this one was no exception. This was a life or death cart of epidural supplies.
Try our new anti-contraction flavor!
There was just one little problem; I had to sit up on the bed to get the epidural. My water had already broken and was exiting my body every time I breathed (you know that moment when you first enter a water slide?), and the contractions were becoming so powerful that I wanted to scream but didn't want to do that in the woman's ear; after all, she was about to save me from the pit of pain and desperation.
So there I was making small talk and grunting though the pain as if I was constipated while delaying the inevitable of sitting up. We waited for a contraction to pass, and it was go-time. I had one instruction only as the foot-long needle went in my back: "Be still."
Because it's totally normal to be as stiff as a rod while your entire body is radiating with agony.
Soon all was right with the world, and my legs went completely numb. I sat back in the bed as if I'd just had a massage, so I thanked the woman profusely and asked if she was okay being featured on this year's family Christmas card. True story.
Twenty minutes later it was time for another "cervical check." Only this time I could still feel everything. It dawned on me that my legs were the only things numb. "WHY AM I FEELING THAT?" I was terrified. Just then the anesthesiologist came flying back in the room with her cart.
"We have two options. I can increase the medicine, but I don't think that will help if your legs are already numb. Or we can do the entire epidural again and lower it about an inch. I can't promise that either of these options will work, because my fear is that you're progressing too fast, and the pain medicine needs time to catch up."
Without a second thought I chose another epidural. They then ripped the tape off of my back like that Steve Carell waxing scene...
By the grace of God, the second one WORKED. But I had already taken precautions and made peace with the Lord anyway. I progressed really quickly, and within 45 minutes I was 7 cm dilated. My parents hadn't even gotten to the hospital with Emerson yet!
All of the sudden I started shaking uncontrollably and involuntarily. "It's just the hormones from the epidural....but remember, you had two of them," the nurses assured me. A jackhammer under my bed would have shaken less.
Around 10:00 am it was time to push.
I was trying to pick up my legs to no avail and had to have help from Ryan and the nurses. "My thighs feel like they're not even mine. They feel like HAM!" I exclaimed, and one of the staff members cracked up. Have you ever opened a spiral ham from the container? That's exactly what my legs felt like. Mushy and meaty...with no nerve receptacles.
Keep in mind that I was still shaking violently from the medicine as if I'd been electrocuted, and I was sputtering trying to talk to the nurses.
"W-W-W-WHAT'S WRONG?!?"
I was making great progress until Landon appeared to be stuck. Entered Dr. Grumbach who completely took charge. Things took a scary turn. Before I knew it there were at least twelve medical staff in the room; I know this because I stopped counting.
"Is this baby bigger than your last?" he asked.
"Yes, and we had to use a vaccum for her. Do you think he's too big to deliver?"
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Landon's heart rate started dropping. Medical staff were swarming the room like an episode of Grey's anatomy. I was doing all I could to deliver this baby, but at that point I was freaking out and crying underneath my oxygen mask.
"Katharine, I need you to keep it together. We can try another vacuum birth or an emergency C section." Then he rattled off the things that could go wrong with a vacuum birth. My head was spinning. Since the vacuum worked for Emerson I wanted to try it once again. The first time it popped off.
The second time he told me to give it all I had; it was my last shot. And out came our Landon. The doctor guessed he was 8 lbs 14 oz. Once the nurses worked on and weighed him they discovered that he was 8 lbs 13 oz; Dr. Grumbach was only one OUNCE off. I later told him that if this doctor gig didn't work out he could always guess people's weight at the fair.
And just so you know, normal deliveries aren't recommended for any babies over 8 lbs 15 ounces. Landon cried almost immediately, but yet again I didn't get to hold him right away because of so much chaos. "We have some work to do on you," the doctor told me.
"You see this, folks?" he said to the surrounding med students.
"This is what you call a fourth degree tear."
I wanted to pass out. Then he held up the placenta, and one of the students had to leave. Landon was born at 12:03, and I didn't get to hold him for the first time until almost 1:30. But oh, what a sweet moment it was. After all I had endured I finally had my baby boy in my arms.
A few minutes later Emerson came in to meet him, and this was it: the million dollar moment. The moment that I cried and begged God to let us experience. She held him as if he were a treasure chest of jewels, but he's so much more. For those few minutes my pain was gone, and it didn't even require a third epidural.
After Death Delivery
Our families spent the next couple of days with us at the hospital soaking up all the sweet moments we could, and our nurses were out-of-this-world phenomenal.
And the new brother and sister had gifts for each other.
There were so many times that made me stop in my tracks as I remembered those first few days with Emerson. Look at this side by side comparison, and you may find yourself wondering if we had twins almost four years apart.
Just like last time, trying to tee tee after giving birth was horrible. It's like the muscles didn't work. So, they had to do an in and out catheter on me the first night. The next morning I was able to go by myself just a little and thought I'd won the lottery. Little did I know what was in store.
On the morning that we were scheduled to go home I was in horrendous pain. The doctor came in and thought I might be retaining urine and unable to fully empty my bladder. He ordered a bladder scan right away, which stops reading at 1000 ccs, so I needed an immediate foley catheter. I was so swollen that the nurses were having trouble getting it to work, and it took three of them holding me down and separating my stitches until it was successful. I was screaming bloody murder at the top of my lungs. The grand total? 2050 ccs of urine. My bladder was stretched to its fullest capacity, and then he gave me the news: I had to give my body a break and wear a catheter for four days.
To put this in perspective, the doctor told us that the average adult male bladder can only hold 600 ccs, and the worst case he had ever seen in his career was 1500. I had 2050. I've always wanted to break records, but that wasn't quite what I had in mind.
Fortunately a hospital photographer came by our room after I received the news and took some precious pictures of our baby boy. It was a welcome distraction.
Around noon that day we were escorted out of our room and down the long hallways of the hospital into the parking garage. I remembered the ride with Emerson and got complete deja vu. Everyone smiles and waves as you ride by and gives their congratulations.
Making the trip home and having both children under our roof gave me a thankful heart like I can't describe. The following days were spent with visitors, meals, and adjusting to having our new little boy at home.
I am over the moon about Landon's first big trip to our hometown this weekend to meet so many people who love us and quite frankly- keep me going.
Thank Heavens I was able to have the catheter removed after four days. It was so painful, and all I could think about was the worst case scenario of wearing that bag around my leg forever.
...in which case I would have filed for copyrights and asked to change the spelling to "Katheter" after yours truly and been eligible for royalties.
AKA royal-TEES.
I digress. But it does make me very grateful for my health.
Ryan also had his long anticipated first game day with his quarterback and cheerleader, and this hands-on big sister wants to be part of every diaper change, feeding, and swaddle attempt.
Between the sleepless nights and extreme pain I hardly had a moment to process the other reality: my grandfather- the only grandfather I ever had- was dying. And I didn't even know.
The Secret
When Landon was two days old Ryan and I took him to meet my grandmother. We knew it would have to be a quick trip; Landon certainly didn't need to be exposed to anything in the facility, and I was still weak and in bad shape. I knew that Papa hadn't been responding as well and had regressed some in rehab, but I had been told that this is normal with stroke victims. It wasn't until we were in my grandmother's room that she broke down crying, and I was caught completely off guard.
"Papa is dying," she said through sobs, and I thought she was confused. Ryan on the other hand nodded his head in agreement and looked at me. I immediately knew something wasn't right.
"What do you know that I don't?" I asked him quietly, to which he responded: "A lot. I'll tell you in the car."
Thirty minutes before I gave birth to Landon my Dad got a phone call in the waiting room. Papa had been rushed to the hospital and was again unresponsive. An MRI revealed that he had additional strokes and a possible seizure. Because my Mom was in the delivery room with me she knew nothing of this, so Ryan's Mom later delivered the news. They all agreed that I did not need to be told in such a fragile state.
After the baby arrived Ryan went out in the hall and begged and pleaded with God to not let Papa die on Landon's Birthday, even though He is the Author of time. In a bizarre turn of events Papa accidentally signed the wrong box on his living will and said that he wanted IVs and feeding tubes, etc, so upon his arrival to the hospital that's exactly what they administered. This mistake could be what kept him alive for just a few more days.
By the time I found out the news Hospice had already been called in; he would be leaving us in only a matter of days. I was completely heartbroken. We just lost Ryan's grandmother suddenly back in June. Were we really about to lose another so soon? That night I had a fever and chills and ended up with a bladder infection. I was in awful condition but had a follow up doctor appointment on the 19th that was right near Papa's facility. Regardless of his mental state I had to say goodbye. I had to do it for my own closure.
When we arrived my Dad met us in the parking lot, and I just knew he was going to tell me that Papa was gone.
"No; he's still here. And it's nothing to be excited about, but he's very responsive today. The nurses call this 'rallying,' which is a final burst of energy before the body shuts down." I didn't know what to expect when I walked in that room, but I knew that those moments with him would be our last.
He was staring out of the window, and as I turned the corner and sat by his bed he looked right at me and blinked his eyes.
"Oh, Papa."
I wept and sobbed by his bedside as I showed him pictures of his newborn great grandson. I showed him Emerson's first day of dance. I told him that he was going to be in Heaven forever because he asked Jesus into his heart two years ago and would be able to jump and click his heels twice again (something he used to always do that would make me laugh). We talked about old times, and I told him that he meant everything to me and that he wasn't alone; we were all there in the room with him and loved him deeply. I couldn't even look up, because everyone around me was crying, too. It was a moment that you hope to have but one that is so emotional you can't really process it right away.
Papa left us when Landon was one week old and will be forever missed.
The Happy Ending and New Beginning
So I do what I've been raised to do by my parents and church family, and that's count my blessings. Because God's timing is perfect and delicately thought out, even when we don't understand it.
Jay and Laura made an unexpected trip to pay their respects and got to visit us for a few bonus days.
We all got to spend time where Papa's ashes will be placed.
And I've realized some other circumstances and events that He lined up, as well. If Nanny hadn't fallen in the hospital she wouldn't have been placed in the same rehab facility and might not have been by his side when he died.
And then there's this stunning reality: every day that my heart aches for Papa is another day that I learn something new about my little boy and get to know him more. It's like Landon took over and filled what God knew would be a void in my heart. Papa's chair may be empty this Thanksgiving, but our bassinet is full.
And finally...being able to say the phrase "my children" and witnessing their instant love and bond. If looks are any indication this is the start of a friendship that could never be replaced. I love these two so much that words fail me.
There is no such thing as love divided between children, but instead it is multiplied by infinity. Two weeks ago today this little boy made us a family of four. I would do absolutely anything for Emerson and Landon. They are the medicine for a body and heart that needs healing. They are everything I could have imagined beyond my wildest dreams.
And these are the only two people in the world who know what my heart sounds like from the inside.
