The creation of life is an amazing process. It begins as the simple union of two reproductive cells (or, in our case, with a little wine and cheese...) that develop over nine months, growing larger and larger, until at last, a new person is born into the world, ready to begin a lifetime of adventures.

When John and I got married, it was our intention to start a family right away - of course, we didn’t think that it would only take us three months to get pregnant! (But that was okay with us; we were delighted!) After nine months of a completely normal pregnancy, the time came to deliver our new child.

And just like everything we do, the birth of our child was nothing short of an adventure.....

Part I - Labor

It began on Sunday, August 6. Having gone almost a week past due, my doctors - Dr. Dane Treat and Dr. Charlotte Gurule - decided that the time had come to induce labor. At seven o’clock Sunday morning, Dr. Gurule called me at home and asked me to go to OB/Triage at Good Samaritan Regional Medical Center at noon - and again at six p.m. - to have gels done. This is a process in which a gel is applied to my cervix to begin dilating and effacing it. Sometimes the application of this gel can trigger labor, as it can dilate the cervix enough to bring on active labor. That was my hope, because I wanted the baby to come on its own, without the use of pitocin (synthetic oxytocin) to start my contractions.

At noon on Sunday, John and I went to Good Samaritan to have the first gel done. Upon being examined, we were told that I was only dilated one centimeter - much less than we had thought - and that I wasn’t effaced at all, and on top of that, the baby’s head had not yet begun to descend. That was frustrating news for us, because I had been having false labor contractions for two weeks, only to find out that they had not done anything to move labor along.

So the first gel was applied, and for the next hour I had to remain in the triage bed, hooked to a fetal monitor to check the baby’s heartbeat as well as my contractions. I had several regular contractions during that hour - some of them weak, some strong - so I was becoming optimistic that the gels were going to work. Once I was released, I was told to go to the mall to do some walking in hopes of speeding up labor, so John and I drove to Paradise Valley Mall to do just that. We walked around for about an hour, during which time I had regular contractions that were five to six minutes apart. Finally, things were beginning to happen!

We returned at six p.m. for the second gel application. Although I was still only at one centimeter, my cervix had finally begun to efface and the baby’s head was starting to drop. I was hopeful that the second gel would do the trick and that I would go into labor Monday.

Now, if I didn’t go into labor, I was going to be induced on Monday. As soon as they had an open delivery room, I would receive a call from OB to come down and be admitted - and I would have to hurry, too, because I could be bumped from the room if there was a sudden influx of women going into labor. (There was a huge baby boom going on, and Good Samaritan was flooded with new deliveries!) There was also a chance that I wouldn’t be called on Monday; OB was so backed up that there was a waiting list for inductions. That, too, was frustrating, because that meant that I would have to wait at home all day on Monday, possibly for nothing.

But that was exactly what I did: wait! I sat at home all day on Monday, waiting for the phone call from the team lead in OB to let me know that they had an open bed for me. By one o’clock, though, I was convinced that no one was going to call. Every time the phone rang, it was either one of my well-wishers, wishing me good luck with the delivery, or it was John, calling to check in. At one o’clock, he called to tell me that he was going to lunch. He, too, was convinced that I wasn’t going to get the call that day, so he figured that it was safe for him to go somewhere other than the hospital cafeteria for lunch.

Meanwhile, I decided to lie down to take a nap. While I was sleeping, the phone rang one last time: the call had finally come! I asked them to give me an hour to get there then hung up to call John.

But he had not yet returned from lunch. I asked his co-workers to check for him in the cafeteria (which was where I thought he would be) but he was nowhere to be found. One of his co-workers offered to come and pick me up so that I wouldn’t lose my bed to someone else (and, at that point, all I wanted to do was have the baby!). I gave in, and so Andrea came to pick me up.

Upon arriving at the hospital, I was admitted and taken to room number 306, where the nurse on duty helped me put my things away and change into my hospital gown - the attractive kind that opens in the back. That was when John arrived. He watched as the nurses did my admission paperwork and hooked me up to the fetal monitor. Soon after that, Dr. Treat entered the room to check my cervix - we were disappointed to hear that, even after the two gels, I was only at two centimeters with very little effacement. My cervix just wasn’t ready for them to induce labor with pitocin.

My next option was more gel. Dr. Treat indicated that he would order Cervadel, which was a medicated paper strip that would be placed just inside my cervix; there was a string attached to it so that it could be removed in case I had an adverse reaction to it. He explained that this product was highly effective in effacing and dilating the cervix, and, in most cases, it would trigger labor. I agreed to the Cervadel, hoping that it would help move things along.

The Cervadel was applied at 6:00 p.m., during which time John returned home to get my living will and my health care power of attorney, in case we needed it. By the time he returned, we both settled down and ate our dinner while watching television. Meanwhile, I continued to have mild contractions.....

At ten o’clock, John fell asleep in the fold-away bed that had been brought in for him. Although I was getting tired, I remained awake long enough to watch The Simpsons before I drifted off to sleep.....but I didn’t catch more than a few minutes of sleep before I began to have a dull ache in my back. No matter what I did, no matter which way I tried to position myself in the bed, the ache only got worse with every contraction. I tried to breathe through it, but soon it was becoming clear that my contractions were getting closer and closer together and that I was in hard, back labor. By midnight, I could no longer breathe through the contractions by myself, so I finally decided to call the nurse and wake up John.

My labor had begun.

Much of my labor is now a blur, and quite honestly, I hope that, as time passes, I will forget most of the torture that I went through while I suffered through nine hours of intense back labor. I remember John crawling into the bed with me, trying desperately to apply pressure to my back during each contraction. We also tried hot packs, but the hot packs just wouldn’t stay hot enough to relieve the pain. I finally asked for Stadol around two in the morning; that was given to me by an IV. However, it was only effective for about a half an hour before the pain would return to its full intensity (and they couldn’t give me more for fear of harming the baby). I also had to be put on oxygen at that point, because the baby wasn’t getting enough oxygen from me.

Around three in the morning, the nurse removed the Cervadel and determined that I was finally at three centimeters and almost completely effaced. She decided that it was time to call in Dr. Treat to rupture my membranes - that might help speed things up a bit. However, just as she left the room, I felt a gush of water between my legs and called out to her, “Never mind!” My water had broken on its own, bringing me temporary relief from my back labor (well, at least for an hour).

By six in the morning, I had taken all of the abuse that I could handle. I had developed a fever and chills, and I was completely exhausted from the lack of sleep. Almost in tears, I told John that I couldn’t take any more pain and that I now wanted to have an epidural. I had decided months ago that I didn’t want the epidural, that I wanted to go through labor without it, but I had not anticipated that I would be in back labor for so many hours. At that point, I had suffered enough; had I continued without the epidural, I would have been too weak to push by the time I reached ten centimeters.

At seven o’clock, the anesthesiologist arrived with the epidural, and I was surprised to find that it wasn’t as painful to insert as I had thought...and the pain relief was instant! Suddenly, I was smiling again, and I was able to regain my strength through hours of sleep, even after they turned on the pitocin to increase my contractions. Every hour or so, nurses would come in to check my vital signs and either Dr. Treat or Dr. Gurule would check the progress of my labor. Sometime that morning, I had finally made it to four centimeters with 90% effacement, but I ended up stuck there for about eight hours.

That began to worry my doctors, because it appeared that the baby might be too big to fit through my pelvic bone - that would explain why my labor had progressed so slowly. Another ultrasound was ordered to measure the baby’s head and to estimate the baby’s birth weight. The result? They found the baby to be of average size, so there was no reason to worry.

Unfortunately, my labor continued to progress slowly, leaving my doctors with no other option but to perform a Cesarean Section. While the orders were being written, a dull ache began to creep into my back again, and I was able to feel my toes - my epidural was beginning to wear off. For the next hour, while we waited for an operating room to open up, I suffered through more back labor. The chills and fever had returned, and I became so weak that I could barely keep my eyes open. I just wanted it to be over.....

Part II - Delivery

Just before six o’clock Tuesday night, August 8, I was prepped for surgery. My belongings were taken to a recovery room, and I was wheeled into an operating room, where I was strapped to a bed and given a full strength epidural, as well as more oxygen. Hot towels were placed over my arms and legs in an effort to stave off the shivers, and a screen was put up over my neck to block my view of the procedure. A few minutes later, John, dressed in full surgical scrubs, was brought into the room to be with me through the delivery.

John watched the entire surgery with complete fascination, while all I could do was listen to the sounds of the suctioning tools and the chatter of the doctors as I fought to stay awake. At that point, I was wrought with anticipation but completely exhausted in the same breath. On top of that all, I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. In just a few moments, my long labor would be over, and my baby would be born. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would it be healthy? What did it look like?

The doctors struggled a bit to pull the baby out of the incision, but finally at 6:15 p.m., Tuesday, August 8, 2000, Mary Suzanne Verley was born...

...and in the same moment, we almost lost her.

Completely elated, I had no idea what was going on next to me. All that was running through my mind was, “We have a baby girl!” while tears of joy rolled down my cheeks. Then, suddenly, I heard John announce, “I’m getting light-headed, I think I’m going to faint!” I told the anesthesiologist that my husband was about to pass out, so he helped him to a chair and told him to put his head between his knees. He also gave him some oxygen to help him breathe. One minute later, I heard a baby cry, and John said, “That was what I needed to hear.”

Our little girl had coded, and a while one team of doctors worked to stitch me up, another team of doctors worked feverishly to get little Mary to breathe. It only took one minute for them to revive her, but it was the longest minute of our lives. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if we had lost her, but fortunately, someone was looking out for our little girl and brought her back to life.

John was still lightheaded, even after Mary had been revived, so he was taken from the room for some fresh air. Meanwhile, one of the nurses brought Mary over to meet me. Immediately I fell in love with that beautiful little creature swaddled in the nurse’s arms, and I was amazed to see how much she resembled both me and John. I couldn’t wait to hold her, but unfortunately, that was going to have to wait until they were done stitching me up.

A few minutes later, John returned to the room, completely recovered from his bout of lightheadedness and ready to hold his daughter for the first time. He, too, brought her over to me, and three of us shared a special moment together - we were now a family.

Since Mary had had such a scary start, and since she still wasn’t breathing very well on her own, she was then taken to the Intermediate Care Nursery down the hall to be monitored overnight. John went down there with her. A few minutes later, the surgeons finished with me and wheeled me into the recovery room, where I, too, was monitored for an hour. Then, my stretcher was wheeled to the nursery so that I could see my baby, touch her soft, new skin and say hi to her. (I wouldn’t be able to hold her until the next morning, after both of us had had a chance to sleep.)

Finally, I was taken to my room, where the nurses put me to bed.

I slept well that night, to get rid of the exhaustion. There is nothing in this world - not even the most challenging hike up the highest mountain in Arizona - more painful and exhausting than childbirth.....and above all, there is nothing more rewarding either. As I fell asleep that night, I was completely content, because I was a mother.

Part III - Recovery

The next morning began our recovery - both mine and Mary’s. The nurses woke me at five a.m. to bathe me then get me up on my feet and walking around. Later that morning, John returned to the hospital to take me down to the nursery to see Mary - John was unable to stay with me at the hospital because I didn’t get a private room. (Did I mention that there was a baby boom at Good Samaritan?) His mother arrived at the same time to meet her new grandchild, so the three of us went down together.

That was when I finally got to hold Mary for the first time - the moment I had been waiting for for nine long months. John picked her up out of the bassinet, being careful not to pull off any of her monitors or IV’s, and handed her to me. Immediately, as I spoke to her, her eyes opened, and she listened to every word I said, knowing exactly who I was - I was Mommy! They say that a baby can recognize his mother’s voice after birth - I know now that this is true.

I had been hoping that Mary would be released from the nursery that day, so that she could come up to my room and be with me. But that was not the case. Although she was finally breathing on her own and maintaining her body heat, she was still unable to eat on her own because her little throat was sore from the tube that had been stuck down her throat to get her to breathe. My heart sank, because I didn’t want to let her go. If I wanted to see her, I would have to go two floors down and walk over to the nursery, and in my condition, that took every ounce of strength that I had. It just wasn’t fair.

I really didn’t get much rest while I was in the hospital. In between visitors, I was going down to the nursery every two to three hours to see Mary then returning to my room in time for meals, to try to pump breastmilk for Mary, or to have my vital signs checked. I was in a lot of pain most of the time, but I attributed that to the surgery, knowing that it was going to be a while before the pain would go away. Despite the pain, I kept going, because what I needed most of all was to bond with my daughter and try to feed her. And at night, after John went home, all I could do was cry.

During Mary’s second day, she was finally taken off of the IV, and we were instructed by her pediatrician to begin feeding her. She explained that Mary needed to be eating at least forty-five cc’s of formula per feeding in order to be released on Friday (in order to come home with us). If she wasn’t eating by midday Thursday, they were going to have to stick a tube down her nose to force-feed her. I just wouldn’t stand for that, so every three hours, I went down to the nursery to feed her. Since I wasn’t producing enough milk to satisfy her, I began to feed her formula in hopes that she would take it. At that point, I was desperate; I would have been devastated if I had to go home on Friday without her!

Miraculously, little Mary began to eat on her own. She ate slowly at first - so slowly that the night nurse tried to tell us that she was going to recommend that Mary stay another day. Thursday night, I finally got my private room, so John was able to stay with me; and we took turns going to the nursery to feed her all night long. By nine o’clock the next morning, Mary was eating ravenously, eating almost two ounces of formula just in one feeding. When her pediatrician arrived, she recommended that little Mary be discharged from the nursery and sent home.

Meanwhile, I still had to be discharged. At six o’clock that morning, Dr. Treat arrived to check out my incision and to ask me the standard questions. Then, he wrote my discharge orders. Around noon, the day nurse removed my staples and applied some steri-strips to my incision. Finally, she had me sign my discharge papers and sent me home. That was when I went to the nursery to get Mary ready for her trip home.

John and I dressed Mary in a white onesie with teddy bears on it as well as a pair of socks with little airplanes on them. We then swaddled her in an airplane blanket; and, when we were ready, the nurse wheeled Mary and me to our car. John strapped Mary into her car seat, and once I was in the car (which took quite a bit of effort, considering the pain I was in), we were ready to go.

Having a baby in the house took some getting used to, especially at night when she awoke every three hours to be fed. The first night wasn’t so bad; it was all new and exciting to us at that point. Then, the next few nights, we became like zombies due to the lack of sleep.

Just before we began to get comfortable with our new role as parents, we had another setback: my incision became infected. Monday, August 14 - the day after my 30th birthday - John took me to the emergency room, where my incision was reopened and drained. Instead of closing it back up again, though, the ER doctor packed the wound with wet-to-dry gauze sponges and a top dressing over that. Twice a day, John would have to dress my wound, just as the doctor showed him. It was a freaky job, but he handled it quite well, until our insurance company decided that we needed to have a home nurse come out to do the job instead.

Despite the stress and the setbacks we faced trying to have our baby, the most important thing is that we have a healthy, beautiful baby daughter, who is ready to face a lifetime of adventures - and we can’t wait to take her out to show her the world! Once I have fully recovered, we will be taking Mary on her first adventure in the outdoors...

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