The Ivy Birth Story

What's great about this is that there's not really MUCH story to this, unlike Liberty's crazy labor. It's an answer to prayer that the Lord would take care of this, our last delivery, by allowing things to go smoothly.

It was pretty much textbook, fueled by the iron will and tremendous spirit of my bride. Savannah, you're amazing!

OK, the story:

I got home from work, as usual, at 7 p.m. Wednesday night. Savannah had planned to leave as soon as I got home to pick up groceries to make some meals for postpartum life. Dinner was sort of loosey-goosey, as we didn't have many groceries, so I quickly made myself a grilled cheese sandwich.

Savannah wasn't leaving for the store. "Why aren't you leaving?" I asked. "I don't know... I feel sort of different."

Then Savannah revealed that she had to pee a lot, and then after she'd go, she'd feel wet. Long story short, we determined that she was leaking amniotic fluid -- that her bag of waters had ruptured. We called the labor and delivery folks at the hospital, and they told us to come in.

Sheila and Anna, Savannah's mom and sister, had just left the house before I got home from work to help Savannah. So when we made "the call" to have them come back to watch London and Liberty, we were so relieved that they hadn't made it home to Vancouver yet; they actually only made it as far as Gresham.

It was hard to leave once Sheila and Anna got to our house. London and Liberty didn't want us to leave, and London in particular got very clingy. It was tough to see him so emotional. It was especially hard on Savannah, which showed the differences between men and women during times like these. I was sympathetic to London, but all-business: we had to get out of there.

Savannah had a few contractions on the way to Kaiser Sunnyside Hospital, but was still all smiles and very much "with it." After filling out a ton of paperwork (which we thought we already had "pre-registered"), we were shown our room at about 9 p.m.

The doctor couldn't immediately identify that Savannah was leaking amniotic fluid, but the monitors were clearly showing signs that labor had begun. After a second test of the fluid, they determined the bag of waters had ruptured (turns out she was leaking from the TOP of the bag of waters), and Sav finally was admitted to the hospital. We were assigned a really bubbly, cheerful, Christ-following nurse -- just the kind that puts Savannah at ease. (PTL!)

Labor was fairly uneventful and calm for the first two hours, with contractions starting and stopping at various times. It wasn't until just before 11 p.m. that the magnitude of the foreshocks started to pick up.

I hunted down a birthing ball and Savannah moved from the hospital bed to that, which was much more comfortable to her. From then on, though, labor really sped up. The contractions were hard, long and close together. At about midnight she started acting as if pushing was coming, although neither of us had any idea how far along she was in the process. (The doctors didn't check her dilation because they had checked her amniotic fluid instead, and they said that they wanted to avoid checking multiple times due to the risk of contamination.)

I called the doctor and the nurse at this point because I had a feeling we were close. They quickly saw that Savannah was at 9cm and that labor was coming to a climax. She had to get back on the bed, which was excruciating for her, and soldiered through crazy contractions -- with no pain meds, mind you -- for the next 20 minutes or so. Finally, she began to push.

Ivy Soleil Hathcock was born at 12:24 a.m. on Thursday, March 3 -- the day before Savannah's birthday -- weighing in at 7 lbs., 2.5 ounces (our smallest baby) and stretching to 20.5 inches (longer than London, shorter than Liberty). Ivy's heart rate was stable and fairly chill the entire labor, and she came out sporting a fashionable boa -- her umbilical cord, draped around her body in a stylish criss-cross pattern.

I can't say enough about my wife. Three pregnancies -- no medication. No complications. No problems. She breathed through the pain and kept her eyes on the prize. I not only would have asked for an epidural, I would have asked to be put under. She was smiling through much of her labor, and was smiling soon after Ivy's arrival. She's a real testament to the peace of God that surpasses all understanding, and my hero. What a great mommy.

Our prayer going into this was for wisdom and discernment for us and the medical staff, a safe delivery, and for the entire process to be a worship experience. We are grateful for the uneventfulness of the process that led to such a beautiful, magnanimous conclusion.

Ivy is very alert, with inquisitive eyes. The consensus is that she has Mom's nose, Mom's monkey toes and Mom's "boo-boo" sad lower lip. She does have my dark hair -- possibly the most hair out of all three kids at birth. Her little cry is pretty musical. Her skin color was given all 9s by the staff, and breathing and temperature seem good. Savannah's in great shape, too!

We are truly blessed!

Has the tide turned?

Hey there,

Just an update. The changing of the doctors might spell good news for us. Finally there's a resident and an attending who both agree that Liberty isn't showing any signs of problems, and that invasiveness doesn't make sense. Thank God!

Our attending told us we might even be able to go home today, although Savannah and I aren't counting on it. We know they probably will keep us until tomorrow, both to monitor Liberty, and to watch her urine and blood cultures to make sure they don't grow bacteria. So far, so good, though -- nothing to speak of.

On the other hand, we're seeing increasing signs that our monitoring equipment is moody. If Liberty kicks, if I'm patting her on the back, if we let the cords hang, or a host of other "IFs," we're told the readings can be off.

So we're hopeful that our caregivers will take that into account before making any additional judgments. We're confident that we'll be home tomorrow, but we're not counting any chickens just yet.

(Side note: London, whose had a cold for a couple of weeks now -- and passed it on to daddy -- threw up for the first time at Grandma Nomi's house this morning. Lots of snot has drained into his poor tummy. We miss him so much, and feel for him!)

Word is there's going to be snow tonight. We're in the upper hills above Portland, so we're looking forward to a great show out of our hospital room window. Our apartment in Sandy could get up to 6 inches tonight!

With Love,
Marcus, Savannah and Liberty

A difficult couple of days

As the title suggests, it's been a difficult couple of days.

We spent all of 18 hours as a family of four at home in Sandy. We got home Friday afternoon, had an incredible evening together, and a decent night. London slept through the night and we were able to give Liberty plenty of attention.

Things changed Saturday morning when Savannah saw a bit of blue around Liberty's lips while our daughter made a gulping sort of gesture. Savannah was concerned (and I've been told that's bad news, too), so we called urgent care, who told us to come right in.

So we quickly found ourselves back at Sunnyside. A doctor examined Liberty and checked her blood saturation, which registered at acceptable levels. But the prospect of blue lips was disturbing enough to the doctor to have Liberty be under observation for 24 hours. But since Kaiser doesn't have that sort of pediatric specialist, we were sent to Doernbecher Children's Hospital.

The original plan was to hook Liberty up to monitoring equipment, see if any clues emerged, and go home Sunday afternoon. During the night, though, Liberty's blood/oxygen saturation levels hit 81 percent (90 percent is the lowest acceptable rate). That, combined with Savannah's initial report, concerned the attending doctor.

Here's where I have a problem. Liberty's fine. She's generally happy. She eats well. She poops well. Pees well. Does everything well. She probably breathes a little slower than the average baby, but her blood saturation is pretty much ALWAYS close to 100 percent.

Another problem: The monitoring equipment is extremely sensitive and has been shown on multiple occasions to be incorrect. For example, it will say that her breathing is at very dangerous levels, but her saturation will be fantastic and her heart rate unchanged. The nurses have agreed that it's all in the positioning.

So, the following treatment plan was based on the uncertain report of my wife, and the uncertain reporting of the machine:

They thought that Liberty's case was worth checking for infections in the urine, blood and spinal fluid. That required a urinalysis (complete with catheter), drawing blood for the fifth time in four days and a spinal tap. That's right, spinal tap. No, not the band. They also wanted us to pump her full of two very powerful antibiotics JUST IN CASE she had an infection.

We understood the "better safe than sorry" philosophy, but a spinal tap? Antibiotics? For a girl who is 99% asymptomatic? Sorry, that just didn't jibe. We told them NO WAY on those counts, but instead to take the blood, take the urine, and see what it shows. Check the white blood cell count. See if there's anything to pay attention to.

Guess what? Big surprise -- nothing so far with the blood and urine! Great results! Who could have seen that coming? (Me. Yes, definitely me.)

Long story short: Liberty's fine. Her blood culture will be under observation for two days to see if any infection manifests, but we're confident it won't.

What I'm afraid of is that during this, some sort of manufactured problem will arise. For example, treatments that are not necessary creating a chain reaction that actually CREATES a medical problem for Liberty. I'm worried that all they need is an excuse -- a faulty monitor reading, perhaps -- to either keep us longer or suggest ridiculous things like a spinal tap.

It's been hard on us. We know she's OK, and this is a really crappy way to begin her life. We miss London, who has been staying at my mom's this whole time. We miss our home. We mourn the fact I go back to work at the end of the week, having no time to bond as a family, as we'd originally hoped.

Please pray for us. Pray that the doctors would have wisdom and would be gun-shy (not trigger-happy) when it comes to diagnoses and treatment. Pray that we would have peace. Pray that London would be OK. Pray that Liberty would not DEVELOP a problem from all of this.

We strongly believe that we'll be home Tuesday, though. Thanks for listening.

-Marcus, Savannah and Liberty
OHSU Doernbecher Hospital, 9-North, Rm. 27 (Yes, we'll accept visitors!)