the roadside birth adventure of zinnia sue

In my line of work, almost nothing beats repeat clients. I love attending the birth of siblings, and I never grow weary of feeling honored to be invited back. In January I was set to attend the birth of a 3rd sibling, a baby girl after two boys that I had watched their brave mama roar into the world while their tender papa supported her.

I got the call that it was go time early one morning and boy did I know that it was go time after hearing the sounds Leah was making. I jumped in my car, sure I would not make it to the birth center in time. 20 minutes later I got a call from daddy telling me they had barely made it down the road before delivering on the side of the road.

This is their story.

(scroll to see pictures)

I am certain I set myself up for a roadside delivery after weeks of joking with my co-workers about not making it out of the county due to a January blizzard and showing up in the emergency department where I work to give birth to my third child. This was my first winter baby, and weather and road conditions made me a little anxious about the drive to the WNC Birth Center in Asheville, a 45 minute drive in good conditions, where I planned to birth my third (and final) baby. We had no problems making the drive to the birth center with my second son, but every night that I clocked out and walked out of the hospital emergency department, I would take inventory of the nursing staff and doctor on shift making note if it was a good night to show up to have a baby in the ER or not. Don’t get me wrong, I work with some pretty great people, but some doctors and nurses would be better than others for catching babies in the ER.

At 40 weeks and 2 days, I had my 40-week appointment at the WNC Birth Center. I told the midwife, Angie, that I literally thought I felt a baby between my legs after squatting while helping a patient with a leg splint at work. I felt crazy for telling her this, but she confirmed my perception. I was 4-5cm dilated and 80% effaced, almost halfway there! Baby was ready to pop out anytime now. The midwife swept my membranes trying to encourage baby to make her appearance and told my husband and I to stay near Asheville for the day rather than making the drive back to Brevard. We were sure we’d be returning sooner than later to meet our daughter. And January 16th would be an excellent birthday as she would share it with my best friend from school days. We went out for lunch, washed the car, and ran some last minute errands. Contractions were very mild and very irregular the entire day, and I actually attended a 4-hour CPI Nonviolent Crisis Intervention class for work in Asheville that afternoon through the occasional soft tightening in my lower back. After the class, J and I decided to head home as this baby wasn’t coming out today, and I would subsequently be pregnant FOREVER! 

For 2 weeks prior, my parents had been on standby both day and night anxiously awaiting for the phone call to come watch our boys while J and I headed to the birth center. I was concerned this was my hang up and why baby wasn’t coming. My parents live about 20 minutes away plus the drive to the birth center. I was in labor for 11 hours with my first, 6 hours with my second, and if baby number 3 followed suit, I was predicting a somewhat short labor and delivery. So we asked J’s parents to come stay the night at our house the day before baby sister decided to make her grand appearance! We would’ve had a homebirth rather than roadside if we had tried waiting for my parents to make the 20-minute trip to our house. 

So I woke up at 3:33am to a fairly strong contraction that lasted over a minute. Awesome, hooray! I had taken half of a Tylenol PM before going to bed, a fairly regular regimen I had adopted for about a week due to intense nighttime itching and insomnia, and likely with the help of the little 12.5mg of Benadryl, I quickly fell back to sleep after the first contraction. I then woke up to another strong contraction at 3:47am. 15 minutes apart, I thought to myself, I still have time to catch some zzz’s before heading to the birth center. And then 4:05am. Stronger now, unable to open my eyes, had to focus on my breathing, and do some slow counting through the contraction. I thought about calling the on-call midwife at this point and making our way to Asheville, but I thought it was silly to make our move to the birth center after 3 contractions that were a measly 15 minutes apart. I wasn’t really meeting the 5-1-1 criteria, but the contractions were getting significantly stronger. (After the fact, I remembered that at my 39 week appointment, Melissa the midwife had emphasized the getting stronger part rather than focusing on frequency of contractions with this being my third baby, but I totally forgot in the moment.) And then another at 4:22 and 4:45am. I then had the urge to go to the bathroom. Pooping through contractions is not easy, and this is when contractions really started picking up, every few minutes it felt like now. I came out of the bathroom at 5:00am and told J we needed to go to the birth center. He frantically got dressed and then helped me get my shoes on. We grabbed our last minute bags and walked outside while J was on the phone with the on-call midwife, Rani, at 5:14am. J also called our doula, Helen Joy. At this point, I was having very strong contractions about every three minutes that I could not walk or talk through and was making all of the moaning, transitioning noises. Luckily this wasn’t my first birth, and J is very familiar with all of my laboring noises and mannerisms. We both had a feeling we weren’t going to make it to the birth center. He sped through town, 60 to 70 mph with hazard lights flashing. We even drove by a cop car parked at Food Matters. Oh please, don’t pull us over. The cop didn’t even move. He probably knew better.

As we came over Little Mountain, I kept looking at the clock with every contraction, 5:17, 5:19, 5:21, 5:22. I do not recommend sitting in front of clock during transition, very discouraging, and I felt like we were crawling down the highway despite the speedometer reading 70mph. And then I said it, the exact phrase I had said twice before, just minutes before my two sons were born…  “I don’t want to do this anymore.” On the phone the entire time with the midwife, J drove maybe another half mile before pulling over just before Turkey Pen access area and less than a half mile from the county line. Baby was coming. My body needed to get her earth side. J called dispatch, and first responders were at the car moments later, and then EMS. As a nurse in the emergency department, I work closely with EMS. We all know each other well, and through the blur of labor, I remember Emily, the paramedic, coming to my side of the car and saying, “It’s Leah!” Through what felt like one continuous, never-ending contraction, Emily told me the impossible. “Leah, we need to get you out of the car and to the stretcher. ” Nope, can’t do it, impossible, not through these contractions. I could not move at this point. I just needed to push this baby out. Emily grabbed my legs and another responder, not sure if it was Donnie the other paramedic or a first responder but I remember it did not smell like J, turned my torso so my legs were now out of the car, and with this change in position, baby was coming! I told the paramedics to stop and with two big pushes, baby was out. Emily caught her, and I quickly took her to my chest as she let out a little cry. 

A paramedic asked the baby’s name, and after the wild ride of a delivery, I needed some time to make sure the name we had picked out prior to birth was going to fit this wild child. Baby and I both checked out great once in the ambulance, but I still had not delivered my placenta. With a pending placenta delivery and due to the location and speed of the delivery, I agreed to make the ambulance ride to the Transylvania Regional Hospital emergency department rather than getting back into our Prius and continuing our trip to the birth center. 

When we rolled through the ER doors, I first saw Amber, and she made a gesture as if she had won the bet and correctly guessed the 32-year-old roadside delivering mama. I was embarrassed and hung my head in shame, but I was so relieved to see Amber, a dear friend, coworker, and previous L&D nurse. I quickly realized that my worst nightmare of showing up to the ER was actually going to work out in my best interest. My coworkers provide great care to all patients, but we really go above and beyond when taking care of our own. Baby and I were getting priority care, and my coworkers gladly obliged to my refusal of most standard ER interventions- IV access, blood draw, etc. My coworkers don’t get excited about my resting heart rate of 48, and they know this isn’t my first unmedicated birthing rodeo. Dr. Huggins was totally onboard with discharging me after a little intramuscular Pitocin to help deliver my placenta and send me on my way to the birth center where the midwife would take over our care. I fear that hospitals in neighboring counties wouldn’t have let me go so easily and definitely would have required more explaining on my part. 

Our birth doula and photographer joined us in the emergency department as well as my parents. We then drove to the birth center where Melissa the midwife and Asha the nurse continued mine and baby’s care for the afternoon. Our two older sons, Roan and Carver, and J’s parents met our sweet baby sister at the birth center, and then we were discharged home later that afternoon. Having a third child wasn’t exactly in the plan for J and I but our family certainly feels complete with a sister now.

After looking at Turkey Pen area trail maps (think Squirrel, Bradley, Cantrell, Mullinax) and road names (280, Boylston, Limousine), we decided to stick with our original baby name, Zinnia Sue. Zinnia seemed wild enough to fit our wild child, and J and Roan filled our home with cut stems from our zinnia patch all summer long while our baby sister grew in my belly. And Sue after my great aunt.  She is currently 100 and still lives independently. I have so many great memories of visiting her house at Wolf Mountain while growing up. Sleeping weighted under colorful handmade quilts, the smell of biscuits and bacon swirling up the stairs from the wood cook stove in the morning, fishing from a rinky-dink johnboat on Tanassee Lake, visiting and singing with other mountain folk, and all of her stories and most amazing laugh. I pray that our children get to experience and appreciate Appalachian culture and history and the treasures that come with unhurried mountain living.

to sullivan on his 9th birthday

my precious valentine,

I feel at a loss of what to write this year. It has been an exceptionally hard year with you. In many ways I feel I’ve lost you to a dark place and no matter what, I cannot reach you most days. You’re hurting. You little heart has seen such heartache in its short time. You are the most sensitive of my children and so I think you kind of broke after all the hurt…not broke…cracked. I’ve held you tight many a times as you kick and scream at me, whispering words of truth and blessing over you. Oftentimes I’m just ugly back, and that breaks my heart. We are in really good family therapy, that the Lord provided, and I have hope that your feelings of belonging and the bond with your parents can be built up. It is agonizing to see you like this.

In-between the hard, your countenance shines like the full moon on the ocean. You are a beautiful child with deep, soulful eyes, full kissable lips, and a spark that lights up my soul. The glimpses I have of who you really are are enough.

One of the greatest losses this year was the loss of your twin cousin, Rainy who moved to Colorado this summer. You’ve grown up side by side doing everything together and now it’s like you are not a whole person without her. FaceTime calls and your short one week trip to visit hasn’t come close to filling in the void.

Not to be all doom and gloom, our year has also had many moments of joy and restoration. One of the highlights of the year was that the Lord provided that you could go to Camp Rockmont. Opposite of Barclay, you aren’t usually gung-ho about new experiences and being away from home. You were very hesitant but we gently pushed you out of the nest for 5 days. And what a 5 days you had! I couldn’t believe the boy I picked up compared to the boy I dropped off. Confidence had washed over you, joy was beating in your little heart and you were happy and dirty. You got an award for Strength and Gentleness-a small wooden button that sits on your dresser reminding you of that special time.

In the middle of the year, when hearts were trying to mend, Grover came into our life and has been such a therapy dog for you. I often see you laying nearly on top of him just breathing deeply and feeling content. You go everywhere with him at your heels and it is such a joy to see.

This spring we stumbled upon a house with some land and a creek. It was opposite of what I had ever thought I would want (we lived in my dream 1920’s house, downtown), but the fields of yellow flowers and the bubbling creek called to us and God opened door after door after door and we were able to move here. Anyone who knows you knows that water is soothing to your soul (as it is to your mama’s). You spent hours nearly every day of summer, knee deep, hunched over, catching fish with your hands. There’s a picture I captured of you here with your eyes shining bright and such a feeling of calm washed over you. It’s my very favorite picture I took this year. I am so grateful that you get to have this land, this water to sooth the hurt and restore the cracks.

Speaking of water, we spent days and days at Nana and Papaw’s lake and you fished non stop. You even got to go on a special spend the night with them and went night fishing. You are always smiling when you’re fishing. Your great, big, unabridged grin.

You are still very creative and always folding paper, drawing, molding clay, or whatever else you can find to do with your hands. You still go into a bit of a trance when you are working. Your own little world.

You are learning guitar right now and it is so soothing for you to practice and play. You are getting pretty good! You are surprising me with your dedication and your stick-to-it-ness.

You have grown so tall, I can barely pick you up (which breaks my heart!). Even though you’re such a big kid, you have such a little boy heart. You love being snuggled and rubbed. Sometimes things you say take me a back. I forget what a little boy you still are deep down.

You are tender. So loving towards little ones and babies. I often find you bent down, softly speaking to them, or wanting to help out with them.

I’ve experienced a lot of guilt this year for being so sick when you were five, for having to leave you over and over and over again. Our therapist thinks that break in bond could have a lot to do with your painful freak outs today. We are trying to build up that attachment from the bottom up. So often we sooth you, react to you like we would a five year old. I think it’s working.

Sullivan, I will never stop fighting for you. I will never stop loving you. You are a child of God, perfect in every way. I am proud of you. I am your biggest cheerleader. I can’t wait to see what this next year brings in your healing. I can’t wait to see the adventures you have, the confidence you’ll build, the ways you will change. You are a beautiful creation,

Mama

to barclay on his 11th birthday

My precious first baby,

I heard you this morning, waking up to an alarm set at the exact time of your birth 11 years ago. You’re so funny like that…wanting to know the numbers, sentimental about the passing of time. The moment they placed you in my arms is seared into my mind and I can instantly go back. The shock, the relief, the burning desire to protect you. I can’t quite say, “I can’t believe 11 years has passed” because I feel like you’ve been with me from the moment I stopped being a child myself.

You’ve done a lot of growing this year, my love. Physically and emotionally. It was your second year of being medicated for ADHD and the difference is astounding. I love seeing you thrive instead of struggle. We’ve done a lot of hard family counseling this year and it’s been very healing. I’ve noticed a small ribbon of tenderness towards me woven throughout our days. Don’t get me wrong…we clash regularly and are both constantly having to say “I’m sorry”, but there is something there that wasn’t there before that gives me so much hope.

You are brilliant. I’ve always said it. Your grades don’t always reflect it, but I don’t mind much about that. Both teachers you have rave about your curiosity, your interest in what is being taught and your enthusiasm. This year you really got into reading and became one of the top readers in the class.

You’ve also been learning mandolin and guitar with a passion. You had taken lessons before but now you have a fire lit under you. I regularly find you picking several times a day, trying to figure out new songs and new ways to play old ones.

I think you’re so handsome-your shaggy blond hair and a face full of freckles. I love the way you dress. You’re just cool, Barclay. Effortlessly cool. They gave a puberty talk in health this year and since then you’ve been faithful to apply your deodorant and shower regularly. So you always smell nice. I am just tickled about this.

My favorite item I received this year was a crumpled note from you that said, “ You are a rare mom.”

You started baking this year and are so meticulous, it always works out. We’ve been enjoying gluten free cakes and muffins for months. Just last night you just helped me paint a wall in my bedroom and your precision was unreal. I have no doubts in my mind that you will do many incredible things in this life. It’s a joy of mine to think ahead to the man you’ll be.

When baby Ella June was born, you and I took a special solo trip to see her and visit Rainy out in Colorado. You were the best travel companion and I enjoyed every minute of being with you. We ended up staying in the spare room of some people from Africa off Air b and b. They were very particular, very loud and we died laughing sneaking around trying not to disturb them. You were so tender with the baby. My heart just melted. We also go to take some hikes just the two of us, got lots of bubble tea and Indian food. You’re so precious and I loved showing you off to that side of the family.

This spring we got an older dog named Grover and he has been such a comfort to you. I find you every day, curled up in a ball next to him just being still. It’s such a blessing to see you together.

This summer God made a way for you to go to Camp Rockmont again. This was your third year and you enjoyed showing Sullivan the ropes since he had his first year. When I picked you up you were brimming with the joy of the Lord and so mature. You handed me a small wooden button that said “Strength and gentleness”, the character award that you received on your special campfire night. My heart soared. I feel like you are the most “you” at camp.

You’ve had a lot of heartache in your short little life- a lot of it still fresh. But you have been open and willing to work through the hard and oh what an empathetic human you are becoming.

I feel like this is the equinox between child and tween. You wanted toys for Christmas but for birthday you just wanted a water bottle with stickers.

You’re just growing, and I’m your captivated audience.

Every baby is a miracle, every child is precious…but you are mine and I am yours. I am so very, very proud of you, Barclay.

Mama