Wow that was close! I'm just the driver.

“Don’t push Lisa.  I know you want to, but I don’t think having your baby in my car is a good idea.”  I can see Lisa’s outline in my rear view mirror. She isn't sitting in the seat as much as leaning over it.  Maybe she is on her hands and knees.  She is swaying and trying hard to fool me that she isn't ready to push. We had been driving down the dark deserted county road for only a few minutes before I heard a change in her breathing. 

This is Lisa and Lamar’s second child.  I met them two years ago when they took my childbirth class.  She called me a month earlier and asked if when labor started I would take her to the birth center.  I teased her telling her she'd be better off having a home birth.  Her first baby came fairly quickly.  She replied she wasn't comfortable with a home birth. I scolded back she won’t be comfortable on the drive to the birth center either.  It is only 7 miles or so, but when one is in transition, on the rutted country roads it can feel a lot longer. My jesting didn't change her mind.

Lamar is in the passenger seat in the front.  It is 2 am on a pitch black night.  Must be a new moon because it is clear and cold, but there seems no light in the sky.  Five minutes with Lisa I can tell she is in advanced labor and will be having her baby soon.  I used my handy cell phone to call the midwife and alert her to the advanced state of Lisa’s labor.  The midwife was on her way to the birth center, but about twenty minutes away.  I asked her to call the birth center and have the nurse ready to meet us at the door with the wheelchair. 

Overhearing me, Lamar tries to hide his panic.  He is a dairy farmer, a leader in the church and a kind considerate man.  I am glad to know him well: confident he can keep his cool under pressure. He turns to his wife in the back seat, “Lisa how are you doing?”.  No reply but her breathing.  A  groan.  Lamar looks back to me we have 5 miles to go. 

My mind is all business now.  Lots of business to attend to. 

1. Keep reasonable speed

2.   Avoid pot holes and massive buggy ruts in right side of lane

3.  Prevent amniotic fluid and all manner of birth goo from getting on my car’s interior

4.   Is the minimalist emergency baggie of chux pad and gloves under my car’s seat going to be enough supply if the baby comes in the next few minutes?  How will I keep the baby warm on this January night?

5. How will I see what I am doing?  It is totally dark. (in an Amish neighborhood there are not street lights or large farm utility lights)  If I have to pull over into a drive to catch this baby, how will I see what I am doing? My car's dome light is weak at best.

I keep driving. I call the midwife again.  Update on status:  “I think she’s ready to push and we are still a few miles away.  How close are you?”  I didn’t even say hello. The midwife reassures me she is on her way as well and that she thinks we’ll make it.  The nurse on duty at the birth center is an older experienced nurse who is very good at managing a quick delivery.

My attention goes to the dark figure in the back seat.  “Lisa, I know it’s hard to do but please just keep your breaths nice and slow.  Breathe instead of push, we are almost there and they are all ready for us.”  Lamar responded to my coaching too by releasing his breath as well.  Poor guy, this scenario is a Amish husband’s number one worry (well maybe not number one, but in the top 3 for sure).

 

Seven long minutes later we pull under the overhang at the birth center.  The nurse is ready at the door with a wheelchair and a shield of confidence.  We three are so relieved to arrive at the birth center with the baby yet to deliver.  The nurses’ assessment is that Lisa is indeed ready to deliver the baby.  Her cervix is all out of the way, bag of water yet unbroken.  Midwife still en-route to the birth center I offer to stay with the nurse.  She accepts, knowing my skill set and my relationship with the patients will be of use if the baby comes before the midwife. 

Shifting into doula/birth assistant mode I wash my hands and assess the room.  Where are the supplies we will need when the baby is born?  Are the blankets in the dryer warming?  Lisa looks at me pleading from the bed where the nurse has forced her to recline for the exam.  “Can’t I get up?” she says as she reaches her arm behind herself to rub her lower back.  Teeth clenched and face wincing, she is asking the nurse for some mercy.  The nurse, older and more set in her ways is not sure she wants the mother mobile.

Lisa hesitates about two heartbeats before she is up and out of the bed on her feet.  The next contraction hits before the nurse can huff and Lisa drops to her knees on the cold linoleum floor. Swaying gently, her body is pushing. I can’t help but smile, I think the nurse notices my pleasure at Lisa’s disobedience.  Oh well.

Lamar has also transitioned into labor support mode.  His face has more color now, his shoulders less tense, he offers words of encouragement and love to his wife.  The midwife arrives, smelling like the fresh air of the night and smiles brightly.  “Ready to have this baby Lisa?” 

Within five minutes of the midwife’s arrival, Lisa is holding her squealing pinking slimy sweet boy.  Lamar stands firmly beside his wife with a huge grin on his face.  They whisper his name to each other and then out loud to us. 

Lisa for the first time that night, is back to her normal self.  Her eyes find me she smiles and says, “You thought we weren't going to make it, did you?”  She is teasing me, chiding me.  I love it.  “It’s the closest I've ever come to catching a baby.” I admit. “You would have done a fine job.”  Lisa says.  I believed her.  I pointed to the puddle of amniotic fluid and general birth mess around the room and said, “Really, I just didn’t want THAT all over my car.”  We all laughed, relieved that it all had worked out.