I. June 11 Labor to June 12, 9:30 a.m.

Labor began on Wednesday, June 11, although the professionals would probably say that labor officially starts when things become more intense. But now with the benefit of hindsight it is safe to say that the "game was on" about 2 p.m. Wednesday, June 11.

Some women are not even conscious of their labor in the beginning, but I am not one of them. A colleague of mine told me she worked right through her labor until it was time to go to the hospital and even sat through a conference-room-style meeting during her labor! That is hard to imagine but goes to show how labor is "unto the woman."

Anyway, this meeting I was in is one of those yearly meetings where you and your colleagues share information as to how you all can better serve your students. It is all OTs and PTs (occupational and physical therapists) coming together for this annual meeting. I was sitting there, trying to stay focused.

"Uh oh, was that what I think it was?" I thought. Hmmm, I'm six days early but this child has been "ridin' low" for a while now. Throughout my pregnancy I would get a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions. I would feel those above my belly button. This feeling was below my belly button with some radiating tingle on top of my thighs. When I watched the clock it came every 30 minutes with very short intensity. However, it started my thoughts and anxiousness: "I don't have a bag packed and I still have infant clothes that aren't washed."

As I sat there (during lulls in the action) in my meeting I began scribbling a list of what to pack for the hospital: socks, take home outfit, nursing bra, gifts from baby to Reilly and Jane – a lot to "due."

This pregnancy was relatively by the book, as were my prior two, which I am happy to say, as I am fully aware of how pregnancies can vary in difficulty. My colleagues couldn't believe I was due in a week. "You look great!" was one of the many positive compliments I received graciously. I'll admit it, I am a woman. Despite the impending joy of a new baby the idea you are getting "bigger" as the due date approaches isn't something you look forward to! I see the beauty in it but all the same getting larger I could do without.

Wait, could this be false labor or way pre-labor? That is kind of my body's method of preparation for a birth, historically speaking.

One physical therapist in particular was very excited about my upcoming birth. In fact she said to me, "Don't worry if you go into labor today at the meeting; I always wanted to birth a baby!" Yes, she really did say that – some foreshadowing!

After the annual meeting I attended a retirement party for my supervisor (I'm going to really miss you, Ro!) so I got home pretty late, like 7 p.m. Robert, Reilly and Jane were at the beach so that gave me about 45 minutes to run around, do wash, pack a bag and organize myself.

I made a quick phone call to Gramps (my dad) to let him know that I might be in labor or possible false labor/prelabor and that he should be aware, on-call to come over at any time! This was prearranged and he was ready.

When Robert arrived with the kids, I let him know what I was experiencing at this point. That "tingle" was now every 20 minutes or so. As usual he took it in stride and was ready to begin his role as "Coach." He was surprised and excited. "OK, J, let's do it; we've got a lot to get ready." We bathed the kids and put them to bed. We let them know that when they woke up I might be in the hospital. Up until now I'd done a lot of reading to them to prepare them for the new baby event. They were excited and ready for the "new" baby. We had prayers (emphasis on the "Angel of God" prayer) and kisses for both; Jane and Reilly were asleep.

We were timing contractions. They were 10 to 15 minutes apart with very little discomfort (just a "tingle"). Robert went out for supplies (i.e. Gatorade, peanut butter and chocolate!) because you never know what you're going to need in the delivery room, during or after the birth of a baby!

By 10:30 p.m. I made the first phone call to our midwife group. This group has been everything I could ask for as health care pros for prenatal and for birthing. The care and guidance has helped us through three pregnancies, being spot on throughout. The level of comfort and personal care they provide makes you forget that it is a business. They "connect" with you on a deep and personal level as the experience of having a child is just that.

Also, I should mention, Robert takes his role as "coach" very seriously. During my pregnancy with my first child, we researched and learned the Bradley Method of birthing a baby. It worked for us and we used it with all three pregnancies.

Back to the phone call. I basically told the midwife on call the time between contractions (progressing and now 10 minutes apart), how far we live from the hospital (45 minutes) and we discussed my past labor/delivery history (long 12-hour labors). The plan was to try and get some rest, time contractions to rule out false labor and call back when contractions were approximately five minutes apart lasting 60 seconds each. I also told her I had lost my mucous plug and my water tends to break at time of delivery.

Through the night, my contractions continued to come every 10 minutes apart with random quicker contractions interspersed. I attempted to rest in a nightlight-lit room and Robert put on relaxation music (always one to set the mood). I was able to lie in the classic Bradley position, which is on one side with all points of body pressure relieved. Robert made sure I was all set up. I was trying to conserve my energy, letting my body do its thing, in preparation for the "main event."

As necessary for comfort when I was laboring through the night, I found the traditional yoga cat pose very helpful for the stronger contractions. Progressing through the intensity of each contraction on all fours helped disperse the discomfort. Robert did a great job of reminding me to "Relax your shoulders... Relax your hands... Relax your..." depending on where he saw me holding tension. Again totally, "Go Bradley"!

On the Bradley, natural childbirth thing... (Skip lower to continue story if you'd like.)

We are not "new-age" type folks, no opinion on that, it just seemed to make sense when it was introduced to us that if the drugs could be avoided through this method then let's go for it. There is no machismo to it. We both intuitively wonder what the drugs do to the body of the woman and the baby. It is administered in that region so how can it not affect the baby? We say avoid it if you can.

We won't delve into the method in detail but it is safe to say that this is not part of the '60s "hippy movement ", not that we are denigrating that either. It was created by a thoughtful doctor (Dr. Bradley) with thousands of case studies. It is not some new-age concept that emanated from some pseudo science or profession, you may be surprised to know. This study showed that the birth process, if accepted by the mother and understood as a physical process, along with the help of a coach, could mentally direct the body's efforts to the muscle groups needing the energy for the birth and away from the anxiety/resulting tension that many woman have come to expect through shared stories of birth terror.

We were skeptics but it was worth looking into. We did and found hard science and good common sense was worth the effort and hopeful ability to stay away from manmade drugs.

The concept is centered around managing your labor by allowing your body to focus its energy away from tension and anxiety and toward the muscle groups that work to progress the labor. We have read that many women who have used the method effectively have pretty much alleviated the discomfort altogether. They accept and embrace what is happening and solely focus on allowing the birth to naturally occur. The coach is integral to achieving this. We recommend it wholeheartedly to any and all.

Back to the story.

By 6 a.m. the contractions were getting stronger but not much closer together. At 6:45 a.m. we put a call into the midwives and told them I didn't get much sleep last night but got some "rest," and that contractions were seven to 10 minutes apart. Again, I can't comprehend how one goes through a workday during this process. It just goes to show you this whole deal is unique to the individual.

On the call we discussed that I still have "a lot of work (labor) to do" (ugh!) as per my birthing history, etc. So I took my laboring back upstairs as Robert gave the children their breakfast and turned on Sesame Street. He did everything possible to keep things normal for them but children are intuitive, not to mention they remembered our "talk" the night before. There were times when Reilly heard some sounds from upstairs and I would hear a little voice coming up the stairs, "Mom-mom, Are you OK?" He remembered now for sure. The sounds were not loud, per se, just a lot of activity he was not accustomed to. Children are so inquisitive and simply awesome.

At this point, we decided to call Gramps and have him come over as prearranged. He was "on call" from the night before and would be just 10 minutes away from his workplace. It was getting to be "that time."

Then I threw up. I remember thinking, "OK, we are getting closer for sure; that's good." Labor was clearly intensifying, not to mention as Robert "my Bradley coach" was tending to the little ones I certainly was not as focused. What's that saying? You don't realize what you got until it's gone, right on.

This labor came with tremendous back tightness, and as I recall the others centered tension around that area too. I do know from my professional studies the nervous system is concentrated and networked heavily there as it gets routed throughout the rest of the body.

Robert continued to help me through the contractions by massaging/pushing on those tight muscles in my lower back and talking me through the contractions ("Relax your shoulders ... release your tension ... focus on letting your body do the work, it's flowing well).

We heard Gramps arrive downstairs.

Gramps: "Hi, guys. How are you doing?"

Children: "Gramps! It's Gramps, Mom-mom and Dada," they scream loudly.

I was in "serious" labor at this point, a telltale sign that labor was in its full throws.

Me: "Robert, don't leave me up here," I said sternly.

Robert: "I won't. You're doing great, Janet. I'll be back quickly but I want to get the kids out so you can focus. I know you can hear them downstairs and I want you to be fully focused on what you're doing."

Robert quickly checked in on Gramps downstairs.

Robert: "Hey, Gramps, thanks for coming. She is doing great but starting to get serious for sure. Let's get the children ready to go out. I'll get them dressed. Maybe you can get the bikes ready. It looks like we will be leaving sooner than later. If we are gone when you get back don't be surprised."

Children: "Are we going for a bikable, Dada? Gramps? Are you taking us for a bikable?" (Bikable = Bike ride, a Janeism).

Robert came back upstairs to get the children's clothes and checked in on me quickly. I was on the phone with the midwife on call, Careen, discussing details of the labor at this point (around 8:50 a.m.) to advise and get advice. She listened to me have a contraction, discussed that the activity was increasing and the time between contractions were still seven to 10 minutes apart with an occasional one closer about five minutes apart with the duration about 40 to 60 seconds long. Again, the feeling was I still had "work to do" but if anything changed it was time to go to the hospital.

The pressure was definitely intensifying. Robert spoke with her, discussing the labor environment as well as the activity from his perspective. Robert said to Careen, "She is in serious labor and we will be coming in sooner than later." Careen reminded Robert that he must assess my comfort level. Robert did and let her know that there was a feeling of pressure difference now, still very low yet toward the back, not front. Again, it was a telltale sign that the baby was really setting up for birth.

Now I was back in full-fledged yoga downward dog and upward cat positions (all fours) – not that I do yoga regularly, it just was a position that worked well.

We worked through a bunch of the contractions together for a little while, but it was apparent this was getting really serious, as they were still wide apart yet the intensity and pressure had increased to a 7 or 8 out of 10 with lower pressure more on the tailbone.

Me: "What is the space between the contractions now?"

Robert: "They still seem pretty far apart but we need to go."

Me: "We gotta go. I don't care if we are in there an extra few hours."

Robert: "Let's get in the car and get out of here."

He was very concerned that although the contractions had not narrowed I was exhibiting the classic signs of doubt that signals the discomfort of dilation and wondered if the contractions were too close to make it to the hospital.

He scrambled back downstairs and let Gramps know the situation. After getting the children dressed and out the door with Gramps, Robert proceeded to quickly run back upstairs, understanding that serious labor was happening, and needing to resume his coaching duties.

At this point there was a moment of question, a temporary lapse of control:

I remember laboring through some really strong contractions while he was gone. By the time he came upstairs, I was crying. "I've had enough!" "I want the drugs!" "What am I nuts doing this without pain killers!?" I said.

Robert: "Janet, you are doing great. Janet, this is what happens. Remember, this means you are much closer than you realize!"

My thoughts: "Whoa, boy that should not happen yet. That is the telltale sign prior to the pushing phase! Egads, we gotta get out of here!"

Keeping in mind I might be at the hospital laboring another six hours and leaving the comfort of my bedroom, I was ready to go!

Robert's response: "OK, let's go. Let's hope the contractions slow down in the car as they have in the past and we've been told by the midwives!"

So I followed him downstairs, grabbing my special pillow and flip flops, stopping every few minutes (contractions were talking two to five minutes) to have an intense contraction. He began to put the packed bags in the car and I looked around for anything I might have forgotten to pack. I was stopping for a contraction here and there as they were coming on top of each other more rapidly.

The car was packed. I went outside and stopped by the brick wall in the portico to have another contraction. A few more steps, and I was at the car's door.

II. The Main Event

I had a heavy contraction. Wow, that was strong, I though. At this point I was in deep labor. I felt some anxiety thinking How am I going to deal with this 45-minute car ride to the hospital?

I looked up at Robert across the car roof, still standing at the driver's side open car door facing me. "Rob, I feel like I need to push!" I said.

He looked at me with disbelief and said, "No you don't. Please tell me you don't need to push!" I said, "Yes, I do feel like I need to push!"

In the next second my mind raced with the thoughts: What is going on? What do we do? Is this for real?

The next decision I made is one I have never been so sure about in my life...

"Call 911" I yelled at Robert across the top of the car. As he went pale, his eyes as big as saucers, he rushed around the car to be at my side, picked up his blackberry and attempted to dial. He couldn't get it to work! I've never seen him flustered like that! He darted into the house to use the home phone.

My body was shaking with the thought that things were spinning out of control. This was not supposed to happen like this! So much for the Bradley at this point! Then it came again. I clenched my eyes tight, my body wrenched and writhed, left leg lifting up off the ground on its own as I worked through another urge to push. I looked down at the ground, and under my feet were dirt, grass and rocks. I gotta move, I thought. I started into the house shuffling like I was 100 years old and needed a walker. I reached for the doorway and entered the kitchen.

I overheard Robert loudly spelling the name of our street over and over. "It's #... get them here as fast as you can!" I leaned in the doorway as another contraction came. I was in utter disbelief this was happening. I somehow shuffled next to the counter across the kitchen, bracing my left hand on the countertop leaning, ready for another contraction.

Robert suggested to me to go to the couch if I could. My feet couldn't move. I was planted in the spot I was standing. Robert was close by me, on with 911 but doing his best to try and comfort me and assess the situation. Then it came, the most uncontrollable urge to push! I let out a scream – a bloody murder type of scream from me. "Ahh, it's coming!" I said.

As I stood there with my underwear and my jammie pants on, the baby was pushing through. Splash, my water broke! It was loud like a water balloon breaking. Ca-splasssh!

I let out another extremely high pitched yell. "Ahh, oh my God. It's coming... It's coming out!"

My free hand, not the one driving through the counter, my right hand unconsciously was reaching down to feel the baby as it was crowning.

The 911 dispatcher was telling Robert, "Step away from your wife. I can't hear you over her screams." "Calm down, Robert!"

Robert to dispatcher: "I can't step away. The baby is here! Get an ambulance here now, please hurry!"

Robert was peering over my shoulder, behind me with the phone to his ear with one hand and the other trying to soothe my left shoulder, in an attempt to try and slow the "process" hoping for a reprieve to get me into the living room six steps away. No way, this was it – like it or not!

He saw and heard the water break, put the phone down and came around my side, sliding down to one knee, leaning in with hands outstretched, positioning his body so his chest and arms could gather in all that was about to shoot out, as it passed through my underwear.

The baby was coming out, getting a little support and held back by the underwear and jammies. Force and gravity had the baby sliding out rapidly. Robert's arms were right under all this. He pulled the baby into his chest and arms, catching the slippery contents of baby and umbilical cord and got doused with the accompanying materials smack on the chest. Robert's arms were supporting the weight of the baby and he was desperately trying to balance the whole thing in a big cradle of chest and arms, hoping not to drop the little one.

At the same time this was all happening we heard a faint cry.

We looked at the slippery baby and umbilical cord surrounding the baby like an unruly garden hose that was haphazardly piled up and it was surrounding the baby. The baby was blue, coated with amniotic fluids and a slippery pile of stuff! Please don't fall! Please don't drop! I thought.

Lord, help us! We were both handling the baby and cord now with me providing side support and Robert underneath coming up off the floor, scooping the baby and cord out from my jammies like a forklift, lifting the baby up to me with little space between us. We both were looking right at the baby and by instinct checking for vital signs.

Me completely panic stricken: "Oh, the baby is blue and not breathing! Hurry, Rob, hurry!"

Without a word between us we started shuffling toward the bench a few shuffles over so I could sit down, eyes wide open, staring right at the baby studying the baby for signs of life.

Robert: "You are going to have to take the baby from me! Oh my lord, I don't see any movement! I don't see any breathing. Don't do this to us! Lord help us! Janet start praying!"

Me: "Angel of God Our Guardian Dear to whom God's love commits us here ever this day be at our side to light and guide to rule and guard." I screamed, "Please God, He's not breathing. Please. He's blue. Robert, hurry. Please, get here. Help us, help, oh God!

Robert tried to hand me this little newborn but I couldn't seem to get where to clamp my hands around it. The baby was wet with fluids with little hair spiked. I didn't want to drop him! Oh God, the baby is blue, dark blue! I thought.

I got my hands around its rib cage and started bringing it to my chest and shoulder. The little body was so helpless and dark without oxygen. This seemed like an eternity playing frame by frame in super slow motion, yet it was only seconds and minutes flashing by in an instant looking back.

Robert: "Janet, be careful. Do you have it? Support the head, remember? Can you get it? There's no breathing! When are they going to get here? Hail Mary full of Grace the lord is with thee..."

As I began to pull the baby closer to my chest and right shoulder, Robert saw the entire picture of the umbilical cord extending up, across the baby's body and wrapped around it. As I pulled the baby up, the cord was pressing close under the newborn's chin. It appeared as if it was strangling it! Please, God, no!

Robert: "Stop, Janet! The cord is around the neck!" I saw it was by looking underneath the chin. I stopped. He reached over and slipped the cord over the baby's head slowly, carefully. With both hands he pulled away from the baby's neck, up and over. The cord seemed somewhat elastic as it lightly snapped down with a bit of residual fluid flying off. Thankfully, it didn't break. I was crying, shaking in utter disbelief. Where was the EMT team?! Why weren't they here yet!?

Robert saw the cord again semi-twisted, like a crossed over ribbon, and quickly untangled it. Whew, that was a little relief, I thought.

Sitting on the hardwood bench that juts out from the wall and extends the length of the table, I felt the pressure of the window sill against my back. To my right I hit into my daughter's wooden play stove/oven with my lower right leg. My underwear was still on, jammies at my knees. The cord was extending from me to the baby (apologies for the graphic nature, but this is it!).

Panic stricken, I could see the baby was still blue, but again a little more purple.

Robert picked up the phone he placed on the counter before and resumed his conversation with the dispatcher:

I could only hear Robert as I tried to discern vital signs.

Robert: "OK, the baby's out and stable on her chest. The cord was wrapped but not anymore. Still blueish purple and not showing any real signs of breathing or movement. Did you send an ambulance? Where are they?! The baby is blue! He's not breathing. Get somebody here, please!"

Dispatcher: "OK, calm down, sir. Did the baby cry as it came out?"

Robert: "Yes, the baby cried a little, but not much!"

Dispatcher: "OK, that's good. The baby cried. Now look in the nose and mouth for any obstruction or fluids."

Robert: "Janet, clear its nose and mouth. Can you? Hurry, quick! It's still blue! Lord, don't do this to us, please!"

Robert told the dispatcher there was nothing and again the dispatcher said to swipe its mouth and make sure the airways were free.

Dispatcher: "Anything?"

We did it again and there was nothing in it blocking the airways.

Robert: "Nothing! The baby is still blue! C'mon, we need to get the baby going."

Dispatcher: "OK, get some clean towels and wrap the baby up. Stay calm if you can."

At the same time I had the thought of towels for warmth as well.

Me: "Get a towel! The baby needs warmth."

Robert scrambled to grab the first towel he saw, the sandy beach towel from last night. "No, a clean towel!" I said. He ran into the bathroom and grabbed a bath towel. We wrapped the baby. Baby was still blueish purple! We could see the little veins pulsating through the tiny little body faintly. Still, there was no movement.

Looking him over, I noticed, "It's a boy! Oh my God, help us!"

The 911 dispatcher told Robert to tie off the cord. He scrambled to find something. He looked on the counter. "Will a rubber band work?" "No, we need a string or something." He ran over to the door and grabbed his running sneakers. He attempted to remove a lace, but it was too tight. He settled for his own sneaker on his left foot, ripped out the lace and tied a knot on the umbilical cord as instructed by the dispatcher about six inches from baby's navel.

Me: "Where is the ambulance!?"

Our newborn started breathing little breaths, little puffs ever so slowly and faintly. His back was rising and falling ever so slightly but enough to tell.

I wrapped him tighter and dried him off. I was crying, praying: "God, protect him." "Help us." "Hail Mary..."

I was no doubt in a complete state of shock.

Finally, as I held him close to me, glimpses of pink tones appeared in his skin. Oxygen! Wait, he went back to bluish-purple.

Dispatcher: "Anything?! You should start seeing something now. Baby should pink up now as it gets oxygen and starts breathing fully on its own. Tell her to rub the baby's back."

Robert relayed this message to me and I thought, No way am I letting go, but I have to rub his back to get him going. I repositioned my arms and hands, tilting back my upper torso so that my body could assist in weight bearing his little body while I rubbed his back in small circular movements. Robert also attempted to rub but realized I had it under control.

Robert then ran into the street to flag down the hopefully arriving help, then came back in to see some slight pink from purple blue as that was now going back and forth rapidly. The baby was trying to come around.

Me: "Oh yes, please, dear God, yes I can see he is getting pink. Oh my God. Please, thank you. Please, c'mon, baby!"

Robert: "Alright, I hear some sirens – I will flag them down!"

He started to really "pink up" and breathe more strongly as he started his life.

Me: "Oh! Thank you, dear God. Thank you, thank you! Robert, did you hear me? It's a boy! Oh my God!" I was sobbing almost uncontrollably.

We now saw full pink in his skin. I heard the sirens, looked up and the EMT had arrived, police officers had arrived and before I knew it I was surrounded in my kitchen, with a new baby boy in my arms, by what seemed like 20 men!

Robert let the dispatcher know the baby had "pinked up" using the term the dispatcher kept using and the dispatcher congratulated him on our new baby boy. The dispatcher told him what a great job he had done undoing the cord and that he should be a proud father (Father's Day was three days later with daughter Jane's birthday in between that Saturday the day we brought the baby home!).

The EMTs got to work assessing the situation. They wrapped the baby in new blankets and took vitals. They had Robert cut the cord and saw my tears of relief, my face shocked with fear and disbelief. I couldn't take my eyes off of our new baby boy.

Robert assessed the situation, getting congratulated by the first responders for a job well done, and proceeded to tell them he had to get out of there. He came over and placed his head on mine. It was over. We hoped.

We attentively listened to the professionals assess the baby and his Apgar score, which looked good, thankfully. They told us that everything seemed to check out.

When we finally got a chance to really look at him, he was beautiful, we both agreed, and decided upon the spot that our new son should command a name to go along with the manner of entry. We later, after serious contemplation and due diligence, decided upon Maximilian Matthew, as translated "Great Gift from God." See the incredible story of Saint Maximilian, a real inspiration for the name as well! We shall call him Max.

Robert let the EMTs do their thing and stepped outside with relief. He went next door to let the neighbor know briefly what happened and to have her let Gramps know the baby status.

The first responders were completely professional yet totally understood the gravity of the situation and were so gracious in handling a "sticky situation," to say the least. I had some wits about me now and asked for Robert to snap some quick photos. He was in shock, as I was, and got off some photos, somehow.

They then got us prepped and loaded into the ambulance for our ride to the hospital (our son Reilly was so disappointed and jealous when he heard there was an ambulance ride!). Robert followed a bit behind, almost getting clipped by a hurdling piece of metal that hit the car behind him (the driver worked at Babies R Us ... naturally! Unreal, right?).

We sincerely hope this story can be used as more than just an exciting story and that folks will be reminded of how precious and fragile life is, that we should do what we can to be as prepared as possible for something like this (have your 911 and any other vital phone number at the ready!, etc.) and to pray for those less fortunate than us to whom tragedy has befallen from a situation like this. We understand that with one cruel twist that could've been us. We pray for you.

Infinitely Grateful and Forever Blessed,
Robert and Janet, the parents of Max