8.31.10

August 31, 2010 began as any other Tuesday in the Rapoza household.  Marc went to work at his barbershop, and I went in to the office...I wanted to have as many days as possible with the little guy after his arrival, so I hadn't even considered taking maternity leave until the last possible moment.  After work, we had our long-standing 6:30pm appointment with my OB, Dr. Neuhauser.  The appointment began normally enough; I peed in a cup, had my ever-increasing weight checked, and the doctor came in and checked the baby's heartbeat.  Marc and I had grown used to hearing our son's heartbeat at these appointments, and it had always sounded strong and healthy, like a galloping horse.  This time, it was clear that something was not right...the only heartbeat that I could hear was barely beating.  In my head I wondered if a slow heartbeat was a sign of labor that I hadn't heard of or read about (unlikely considering all of the prenatal books that I scoured each night), but in my heart, I knew that my baby boy was in danger.  Dr. Neuhauser kept his cool and immediately checked my cervix.  Nothing had changed.  No dilation or effacement; I was definitely not ready to deliver this baby naturally.  My heart sank to my stomach as the doctor told Marc to get me to the hospital immediately.  Drive straight there, he said.  Don't stop in the E.R.  Get to Labor and Delivery as quickly as possible.  Marc asked if the situation was bad and was told that it might be, and that we'd see Dr. Neuhauser shortly if it was.

Fortunately the hospital is right around the corner from my OB's office, and we made it there in record time.  There was a room waiting for us when we got to Labor and Delivery, and I was instantly hooked up to a fetal monitor.  Things seemed promising at first.  The baby's heartbeat seemed strong, but then it would take terrifying dips and slow down again.  Within minutes, I was hooked up to an IV, a catheter, and oxygen.  I noticed the nurses giving glances to each other and the clock.  I overheard one of them saying that Dr. Neuhauser was on his way, and I just lay there in bed and prayed for my baby boy.  The doctor arrived at the hospital and put me on Pitocin.  Not to induce labor necessarily, but to create contractions so that they could monitor how well my baby could handle the stress of labor.  Turns out, he was not well-equipped to handle labor and his heartbeat would drop again after each little contraction.  Dr. Neuhauser said that he was sorry, but that it was time to take this baby out and he wasn't going to come the old-fashioned way.  My only concern was for my unborn son, and if a c-section was the best thing for him, then it was fine by me. 

While prepping for surgery, I could only think of my baby and it hit me that he didn't yet have a name.  The plan had been to meet him first and then name him according to our impressions of him.  But knowing that his health was in danger, I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to my little unnamed son.  In an instant I knew what his name should be, and I turned to Marc on our way to the O.R. and said "Jack Simonson Rapoza".  Jack was Marc's favorite name from the moment we found out we were expecting, and as much as I had loved the name, I was annoyed that it kept climbing up the baby name popularity charts.  But at this point, it didn't matter, and in my heart I knew his name was Jack Simonson.  I wanted a family name for his middle, and while I loved both of my grandpas to the moon and back, neither one of them left me with a good name to pass down to my child.  My maternal grandma's maiden name is Simonson, and she has been my best friend and champion from the moment I was born.  I can't think of a better name to pass on to my son than hers.  Marc agreed and it was settled...no matter what happened to our son, he at least had an identity.

Thank God, the c-section was a success, and little Jack Simonson Rapoza was born at 9:40pm on August 31, 2010 with no complications.  He was (and is) perfect at 6 lbs 7 oz and 19 inches.  It was difficult not being able to see my firstborn child for the first two hours of his life, but Marc stepped in and played the mommy role very well until I could take over.  All of the hours of childbirth prep class and my hospital bag full of soothing items may not have ended up being very useful, but in the end all that matters is that I have my beautiful little boy, who I love more than I ever imagined possible.  And now, we really are three.