Tuesday 

I wake up early. I’m going home today. I hit the shower, fix my hair and apply my make up. Mom gets ready too.  

I’m going to see my baby today.

That’s all I can think about. 

Dr. Helling arrives at 8:30 a.m. and says I can go home. He wants me to take it easy – keep my feet up, use a wheelchair while at Children’s, etc. No problem. Just get me out of here. 

It takes forever to get released. I can’t put my clothes on yet because they need to remove my staples. I’m dreading this, but if it gets me out of here they can do whatever they want to me. I call Children’s to check on Baby Sharpin. The nurse’s name is Crystal. Crystal informs me that he is sleeping a lot at not eating much. I tell her I’m not surprised since that is how he acted on the first day. He seems to prefer sleep in the morning – much like his mom. 

I try everything to pass the time, but I cannot concentrate. My lunch arrives, so I focus on that. Vince arrives as I finish my lunch. It’s a waiting game. The nurse comes to remove the staples around noon. It hurts. A lot. I have to keep telling myself that this is the end of it and it means I can go home. Vince and Mom are packing up my stuff.  

Once the torture is over I get up and change clothes. I can leave! Vince pulls the car around. We wait forever for the wheelchair to arrive. I wonder if they would notice if I just walked out?  A good 15 minutes go by before the chair arrives. WOO HOO! I’m out of here! 

Mom drives me home in my car and Vince drives his truck home. It’s strange to be going home without my baby, but at least I get to see him today. The plan is to go home, drop off my stuff, wait for Jake to get home from school around 3:00, and then head to Children’s to see our son. We decide that I will not spend the night at Children’s. I still need to take it easy.  

We arrive home and Vince unloads the car. It feels good to be in my own house. I feel horrible – the staple removal hurt a bit and left me tired – but I am still happy. I am going to see my baby today. We talk about possible boy names to pass the time. Nothing sounds right. But, it is a nice discussion to have. 

Vince’s cell phone rings. It’s Children’s. The baby hasn’t eaten since 1:00 a.m. (it’s 2:30 p.m. now) and he is not responding to stimulus. They want to due a spinal tap to rule out infection. I freak out. This doesn’t make sense. Just last night he was awake and responsive. What happened?  

They want Vince’s permission to do the spinal tap. I ask if they can wait until we get there. Mom and I think that he may respond once he hears my voice and I hold him. Vince asks. They tell him that it is imperative to do the procedure now. We authorize the procedure. I start crying again. 

We make some quick decisions. Mom will stay home and take care of Jake while Vince and I head to Children’s. We have to stop and pick up my prescription on the way, however. Vince and I get in the car. Just then Jake sees us and runs to the car. He is excited I am home. My heart breaks that I don’t have time to spend with him right now. I give him and hug and a kiss and tell him that I need to go see the baby. He tells me he loves me and that I’m looking skinny. Awesome kid. 

We pick up my prescription so that I will have my medication. It takes forever. We then have to stop and get gas. We finally get on our way. We hope traffic isn’t bad. We manage to get to the hospital in 30 minutes. Normally the trip takes about an hour, so you can guess how fast Vince was driving. 

We get to the hospital and go straight to the baby’s room. There is my tiny little guy sound asleep. They had finished the spinal tap. I walk past the two nurses in the room and start talking to my little guy. He opens his eyes and opens his mouth. His legs start kicking. The nurses are shocked. He hasn’t moved that much all day. I ask if I can pick him up. They say yes and suggest I put him to breast. Darn. I don’t have on a shirt that is conducive to breastfeeding. 

I take off my shirt. I don’t care who sees. My baby needs me.  

I pick him up and place him next to my breast. He latches on and takes about three sucks. He then looks straight into my eyes and smiles. He latches back on and never sucks again. He sleeps. He makes the cutest little baby sounds I’ve ever heard. 

The mood has changed in the room. The nurses have gone from a worried hover to a purposeful mission. They start telling us how to order food (I get to eat free since I’m nursing), show me how to use the breast pump (they had one brought in for me) and show us where everything is in the room. They take Vince on a quick tour so he knows where the kitchen is should we need ice, water, juice or Sprite. None of this information sticks in my mind. I’m only looking at my son. 

Vince and I enjoy our alone time together. The only thing missing is Jacob.  

After an hour or so our endocrinologist, Dr. Dickson, arrives. He introduces himself to me. He’s not what I expected. But, then again, nothing about this hospital has been what I expected. After spending three days in a typical hospital environment, this one seems strange . . . almost too relaxed, even. But, it is a hospital for children, so I’m sure everything is okay.  

We talk for a few minutes. He tells us that the karyotype results should be back around 6:00 p.m. and that he will come back and let us know what they find. The hope is that they see an XY on the 46^th chromosome. This would mean that we have a genetic male and that we would only need to focus on reconstructive surgery. We go back to enjoying our new little boy. 

6:00 p.m. arrives and no doctor. I’m not surprised. What doctor works past 5:00 anyway? I pull out my camera and start taking pictures of Vince and the baby. As I’m doing this, the doctor returns. He asks me to sit down. 

He then takes a chair and tells us that the karyotype came back. He apologizes for the delay. He had to do some research on what was found. This scares me. 

He reminds us that the 46^th chromosome determines the sex of the baby – XX for female; XY for male. He tells us that, typically, we are either XX or XY at the chromosome level, but not both. I remember something I read from the night before, and ask the doctor if our child is mosaic. He is. 

Our baby has XX on the 46^th and XXY on the 47^th. He is the 11^th person with this chromosome signature.  

The doctor confirms that we do indeed have a son. He also tells us that the baby has Klinefelter’s Syndrome. Klinefelter’s Syndrome affects about 1 in 500 to 1 in 1000 males and sometimes goes completely undetected. In some cases, the condition is not caught until a boy has difficulty going through puberty or when an adult male seeks fertility assistance and learns he is infertile. The symptoms cover a wide spectrum and can range from what appears to be a normal male with infertility to a non-normal appearing male with severe learning disabilities. 

My husband, who has been a rock up to this point, breaks down. Surprisingly, I’m okay. I’m not sure why I’m not crying since everything else has set me off up to this point. I cling to the message that I received from God . . . “everything will be okay.” 

I ask if this is heredity. Could Jacob be affected? He says it is not. After a bit more discussion he leaves. He tells us he will be back in the morning. 

Vince clings to our baby. I try my best to offer comfort, but I’m not doing a very good job. It’s hard to look at your beautiful child and think that he may face a lifetime of challenges.  

The shift changes and the new nurse comes in. She tells us that our baby will need to be hooked up to monitors for the night and that she will be back later. After what seems like only 10 minutes she is back. We have to put our baby back in the bed. She and another nurse hook our little guy up to several monitors. My son wakes up and looks at me. It breaks my heart. Here he is awake and now we can’t hold him. I start crying. Vince is crying harder. We don’t want to cry, but the emotions of the last few days have caught up with us. We’re both sobbing. The second nurse tells us we need to be strong for our son. I want to slap her, but I know she is just trying to help. Suddenly this place seems hostile. I want to grab my son and run. 

Common sense finally takes hold. Vince and I hold each other and watch our son drift off to sleep. Once we are sure he is asleep we leave. I don’t want to leave. Vince doesn’t want to leave, but there is much we need to discuss. This place is suffocating us. We have to get out. 

The drive home is mostly silent. The only sounds are from our sniffling. 

We get home to find that Jake is still awake. He is so excited I am home that he cannot settle down. We talk to him for a few minutes and send him to bed. We tell him that he needs his rest. Tomorrow is a school day. He finally goes to bed. 

Mom, Vince and I sit down in the living room. She can tell something is wrong. We both look terrible. We start relaying the day’s events to her. 

I tell you, Vince and I are in Hell. We are angry and feel like the world was against us. We cry. We scream. We shout at God. I know I am being punished because I did not want to get pregnant in the first place and had struggled so hard with having another child. Vince believes it is his fault. He is being punished.  

My mom helps us through our spiritual crisis. (I cannot think of a better term to use because that is EXACTLY what it is.) 

I realize we are trying to boil the ocean. We are worried about our child's sex life (or lack thereof), puberty, peer pressure, social stigma - you name it. We finally decide that we need to take it one step at a time and do what is best for our baby. We know he is withering away in the hospital - he has lost a pound, isn't eating and isn't responding to stimulus well.  

Vince and I go to bed, cry some more, hold each other and pray. Vince and I have not prayed in years. We pray for guidance on what our next step should be. We receive our answer. The most important thing for us to do is to get our baby home. 

Vince is worried that they will not let us bring him home. I assure him that they will. I am so confident in this that I tell him we won’t even have to ask. Everything will fall into place for us. 

We start thinking of names again. We look through the Bible to find the appropriate name. We narrow it down to two. 

Monday 

I call Vince around 6:00 a.m. to ensure he and Jake are up and getting ready for school. I ask if he is going straight to Children’s. He tells me he wants to come see me first. I agree. I would like to spend some time with my husband. My mom helps me get up and take a shower. I fix my hair and put on make up. I’m determined to get well as soon as possible. My baby needs me. 

Around 8:30 Dr. Helling arrives. He is covering for my doc. Dr. Helling was my mom’s doctor when she lived here. They talk for a few minutes. He tells me I can go home today, BUT I must stay home and take it easy. He doesn’t want me at Children’s. I think about it for a few minutes and tell him quite honestly that I cannot stay away and, if he feels like I truly need to rest, then he should keep me another day. We decide I should stay another day. I want to go, but I want to be well enough to take care of my child. I call Children’s. The baby is doing so well she will be moved off the ICU floor to the main floor later today. This is great news. 

Vince arrives and is shocked to see me cleaned up with make up on. While my mom leaves to grab some lunch, I have Vince walk with me down the hall. He is amazed I’m up and moving. (With my first c-section, I was not out of bed for three weeks.) My new nurse is also amazed because I am also refusing pain medication. I’m determined. I will leave here tomorrow. 

Vince hangs out with me a little while, then leaves to go spend time with our baby. While he is gone I sleep and have a terrible dream. In my dream my baby girl is taken away from me. I keep reaching for her, but she is out of reach. I keep calling for her, but my cries are not heard. I sleep fitfully and awaken with tears on my cheeks. I’m sure this is because of what transpired the day before. 

I get focused. I call for a pump so I can start producing breast milk for my baby. The birth certificate coordinator stops by and I complete all the paperwork. I reschedule my doctor’s appointment since I had the baby early. I send out an email to my friends and co-workers announcing the birth of our baby girl. I keep looking at the digital pictures of my baby to burn her image in my mind. 

I then start feeling down. Depressed even. I’m sure this is to be expected. I call Vince. He tells me he is on his way back to me. I ask how the baby is. He says he needs to talk to me when he arrives. I ask what’s wrong. He says nothing is wrong, but he wants to talk to me in person and not while he’s driving in traffic. I watch some television to keep my mind occupied until he gets here. 

My mom returns and we chat for a while. She has had lunch with a friend of hers, so we talk about that for a while. Vince arrives around 3:00 p.m. He sits next to me and tells me that we need to talk. He asks me if I want my mom there. Mom agrees to leave to let us talk. I say no. I want her here. 

Vince tells me he has spent the majority of the afternoon with a pediatric endocrinologist. He pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me. There’s a bunch of drawings on the page. There are words that I recognize and that scare me a bit. 

Vince starts walking me through what is written down. At Children’s they first checked to see if our child had adrenal hyperplasia. Our baby does not. Vince informs me that this is a very good thing as this condition is more serious that what we previously understood. Vince then points to the next section of the page and starts talking about the 46^th chromosome. This is the chromosome that determines sex. XX is female, XY is male. Basically, all babies start out as female in the womb. During fetal development, the appropriate message is sent to make the gonads turn into the proper parts and pieces. If the 46^th is XX, the gonad will turn into ovaries. If the 46^th is XY, the gonad will turn into testes. The appropriate hormone (estrogen or testosterone) is produced. 

Once adrenal hyperplasia was eliminated, a sonogram was performed on our child. The sonogram revealed that our child was missing ovaries, fallopian tubes and a uterus. There appeared to be one teste. There was also a small gonad that was underdeveloped.  

Vince stops at this point and asks if I have any questions. I tell him to continue. He pauses and tells me that, at this point in the conversion with the doctor, he was told that our daughter was actually our son. He tells me that a chromosome test is being done to determine what our child is at a genetic level. It will take a day or so to get the results. (The hospital put a rush on this – it normally takes three weeks.) 

I am shocked. How can our little girl actually be a boy? I think about the genitalia. How can they turn that into a penis?  

The three of us talk for hours. We talk about the reconstructive surgery our son would have to face. Will he be able to perform sexually? Will he be able to enjoy a sexual relationship with his partner? Will this affect his sexual orientation? How will he handle social relationships? What will we tell our family? How can I go back to all my friends and co-workers and say, “Oops, that announcement I sent out about my little girl was wrong?” What do we tell our family?  What about Jake? He wore his “big brother” shirt to school today and told everyone about his little sister. How will he handle this? 

We decide that, for now, we will keep it to ourselves and not make any announcements. After all, the chromosome test still needed to come back. What if that showed he was a she again?

At this point we get quiet. My mom asks if she can go to Children’s and spend time with the baby. “The baby.” Victoria is gone. We just have “the baby” now. Vince and I never bothered to pick out a boy’s name. Vince needs to leave because his mom and dad need to return home and someone needs to be there with Jake. I come up with a plan. While mom is gone I want to research this on the internet. Vince will pick up Jake and bring him back so we can discuss this as a family. Maybe I can find some advice on the web on how to talk to a nine-year-old about this. Geesh.  

Mom and Vince leave. I start scouring the web. I am shocked and discouraged about the information I find. I see terms I never thought I would encounter in my life – intersex, hermaphrodite, pseudo hermaphrodite, Turner’s, Klinefelter’s, mosaic – the list goes on and on. It is overwhelming. 

I close the laptop and say a payer. I ask God to give me the words and the wisdom to talk to Jacob. I ask him to open Jacob’s mind so that he can receive and understand the information. I pray for God to give Vince wisdom.  

Vince and Jake arrive around 8:00 p.m. We start to talk. 

I ask Jake if he remembered seeing the baby go to the hospital yesterday. He says he does and that he doesn’t understand why Tori had to go. I tell Jake that we need to talk about that now. 

I ask Jake if he knew what the differences between girls and boys are. He proudly informs me that girls have a vagina and boys have a penis. It’s almost with the attitude of “didn’t you know that, Mom?” I tell him he’s right. I tell him that, when a baby is born, one of the first things the doctors look for is to see if the baby has a vagina or a penis. Every now and then, they cannot tell what the baby has for sure, so they have to look inside the baby to see what it is. 

I then ask Jake if he knows that there are differences inside of us between boys and girls. He says he does not. I remind him that girls can have babies and boys cannot. He says, “oh yeah, I know that.” I tell him that is because we have different parts on the inside. Inside me I have ovaries. This is where the eggs that make the baby are made. The ovaries are connected to fallopian tubes. This is the slide that the eggs ride to get to the uterus. The uterus is where the baby stays while he or she is being made. I ask Vince to tell Jake about the parts that he and Jacob have on the inside. They talk about testicals and how those work. Jake is fascinated.

I tell Jake that, since they could not tell for sure if our baby was a boy or girl, they looked on the inside to see what was there. He immediately becomes concerned about how this is done. I tell him about sonograms and how those work and remind him of the sonogram pictures we have of the baby. 

Once he is comfortable that the baby wasn’t hurt, I tell him that they found boy parts in our baby and no girl parts. Jake’s face brightens.  

“You mean I have a brother? I always wanted a brother,” he says.  

We tell him that we aren’t sure yet and that tests are still being run. The last thing we want is for Jake to announce that he has a brother and then we find out something different again. After all, the first doctor was wrong. The second one could be wrong too. I tell Jake that he doesn’t have to tell anyone at school anything. If anyone asks how the baby is doing just tell them “fine.” Vince and I tell Jake that we love him and let him know he could ask us any questions. After a few minutes he asks,  

“Am I still a big brother?” 

We tell him he is. He is happy. Vince and Jake leave. 

During the next few hours Vince and I grieve for the little girl we lost – me in my hospital room and Vince at home in our bed. I pray. Vince prays. God helps us to let go of our little girl and allows us to feel joy for the little boy we gained. 

I continue my research. I alternate between reading and praying for the next several hours. During my last prayer, when I am most desperate, God tells me very clearly that everything will be okay. 

My phone rings. It’s my mom. She is on the way home from Children’s. Our baby was awake and alert and feeding well. She tells me she went to lay him down after his last feeding, but he became very alert so she stayed longer. My heart is happy. My baby is fine. 

I sleep for an hour or so until Mom arrives. She tells me about her evening. When she arrived and signed in one of the nurses asked if she was Baby Sharpin’s grandmother. When she said she was, one of the nurses said, “Oh, man!” Immediately becoming concerned, mom asked what was wrong. Apparently, nothing was wrong. It turns out that the nurse was holding our child in her arms. Apparently, all the nurses were taking turns holding our baby and her turn had just started. They were setting a timer for 15 minutes so that everyone got a chance to hold him. When mom got to the room with the baby, she started talking to him. He immediately became alert. Mine and mom’s voice sound identical. (If you don’t believe me, just ask my husband.) She talked and fed the baby until he finally went to sleep. Mom seems at peace and that puts me at ease. She changes clothes and goes to sleep. She sleeps soundly. I cannot sleep. I’m excited that I am leaving here tomorrow and that I will see my new son.

Sunday 

1:00 comes and goes, but no baby. Just as Vince and I start to doze off she arrives around 2:00. I’m disheartened to learn that she has been given a bottle. I want to breastfeed and don’t want to deal with any nipple confusion. Vince and I decide to try and breastfeed right away. She attempts to latch on but is more of a kissing fish than a big mouth bass. We try a few times. No luck, but hey, we’ve got nothing but time to figure this out. We all fall asleep, but every time the baby sighs or gurgles we both wake up and stare for half an hour. At one point I awaken to find Vince holding the baby and just staring. It was beautiful. 

We finally manage to sleep for a few hours and then it’s time to get up. Vince has to leave to pick up Jake from Jeff and Melissa’s house and then head to the airport to pick up my mom. He tells me to not go anywhere while he’s gone. Yeah, right. I ask the nurse to take the baby back to the nursery. I’m exhausted and am nervous to be alone with her. After all, it has been about 10 years since I’ve been around a baby. I manage to get some excellent sleep for about four hours. 

Vince arrives with my Mom and Jacob. Vince calls the nursery for the baby. I feel pretty good. I still can’t feel anything below my waist, but I feel energetic. The baby arrives and the ooohing and aaahing begins. I make a few more phone calls to the family. We know that Vince’s family will arrive sometime today and hopefully my dad will come as well. We take pictures of mom and Jake with the baby. Mom takes pictures of me with the baby, then of Vince with the baby, then of Jake with the baby . . . it looks like the press is on the scene. 

The next few hours are more of the same. We take turns holding her, kissing her, talking to her, etc. Mostly we just stare in amazement. She has a full head of black hair and these beautiful blue-gray eyes. She has dimples in her chin and on her cheeks – just like her daddy. She is so tiny. 

My dad and his family arrive. I am surrounded by people that love us. Everyone is talking about how beautiful the baby is. It’s loud and joyous in my room. We do not talk about her condition. Only Vince, my mom and myself are aware that anything is amiss. 

After a little while the family leaves to let us rest. It’s getting to be late at this point and Vince’s family hasn’t arrived. Since they are at least two hours away this concerns me. Vince places a phone call to check on them. We are having a blast just hanging out with our beautiful daughter. We talk about what the pediatrician told us. We decide that surgery to open her vagina is okay, but surgery to reduce her clitoris is not okay. After all, even though we are not ready to think of our daughter as being sexually active, we know she will be some day and we would like for her to have the best experience possible. 

The pediatrician comes into the room and informs us that Victoria needs to be transferred to Children’s Medical Center right away. An ambulance is in route as we speak. Apparently, adrenal hyperplasia is serious enough that treatment needs to begin ASAP. I’m devastated. I thought we would be able to take her next week. She’s only been alive for 18 hours and now she is being taken from her parents. I ask the pediatrician if Vince can ride in the ambulance with her. He tells us no. He leaves the room. The NICU nurse comes in and takes our daughter to be prepped for transit. I begin sobbing. We barely know our little girl and now we have to give her to complete strangers? I cannot stop bawling. We look out the window (my room is by the hospital entrance) and we see Vince’s family arriving. I sob harder. What are we going to tell them? I’m certainly not up for visitors. 

Vince goes outside to meet the family in the hallway. Mom stays with me. Vince comes back after a few minutes and tells me the family wants to see me. He hasn’t told them any specifics – only that something is wrong and the baby is being transferred to Children’s and that I’m very upset. I try to compose myself. I ask Vince to call the NICU and see if they will bring her in so that the family can meet her and so that I can say good-bye. He calls. They tell us she can’t come. I start sobbing again. 

The family comes into the room and I try hard to compose myself. No one is saying much. Surprisingly the nurse arrives and brings the baby into the room. Everyone crowds around her and talk about how beautiful she is. I ask to hold her. I cry harder. (I’m crying now as I write this.) We say a prayer over our newest family member. 

The nurse returns about 30 minutes later and tells us it’s time for the baby to go – the ambulance has arrived. I look outside. Yep, an ambulance is there. The paramedic comes in and has me sign the transfer papers. I ask if Vince can ride with the baby. She says yes. This gives me a lot of relief. Vince doesn’t want to leave me. You see, I’m normally a pretty strong person, but this has me messed up. I tell him that he will help me most by going with her. He and the family go outside and stand near the ambulance. My mom and mother-in-law stay in the room with me. We don’t talk much, which is fine. I’m not up for conversation. I

 watch my oldest son play in front of the hospital with his cousins. He is blissfully unaware of what’s going on. I hope he stays that way. My sisters and brothers-in-law are with Vince. They are all standing next to the ambulance. 

After what seems like an eternity, I see my daughter being wheeled out to the ambulance. She is in an incubator. I wasn’t expecting that. I start crying again. My mom and mother-in-law are standing on either side of the window watching her get loaded into the ambulance. I see tears streaming down both their faces. Jake realizes what is going on. The joy that was on his face just moments ago is now gone. Vince turns and looks at me, smiles, and gets inside. The ambulance doors close. My baby is gone. 

The men in the family get in the car and follow Vince to Children’s as he will need a ride back. The women come into the room with me. Some of my nieces and my nephew are in the room as well. Jake is here with me also. It’s noisy. My nephew Ethan asks me a lot of questions. He’s two and looks just like his daddy. We talk about all kinds of stuff. I answer all of his questions. It’s great because it takes my mind off of my situation. We all talk about nothing and everything. It is just what I need. 

After what seems like another eternity Vince returns. He tells me that our baby has been placed in a beautiful room on the 12^th floor. She has an awesome view of downtown Dallas. I’m jealous. He said the nurses are all excited because they get to hold this baby. Usually the babies are too sick to be held. He assures me our daughter is in great hands. 

He and Jake leave to go home. Jake has school the next morning and needs to get to bed. It’s already after 9:00 and bed time is 8:45. Mom spends the night with me. Surprisingly I sleep. I dream that I am still pregnant and that the events of the last few days are actually the dream. 

Throughout the night several nurses check on me. I am deeply touched by the compassion they show. One nurse prays for me and tells me she will call me tomorrow to check on me. (She kept her promise).

Saturday – Part One

After much debate with hubby Vince, I get his “permission” to keep my hair appointment. (Like I wouldn’t have left the house after he left for his errands – HE HE!). I need this appointment. Yeah, the hair is long and ready for low-lights, but I also need the pampering. Besides, I am feeling a little “off.”

I grab my lunch and head home. After eating I start feeling a little worse. Great. Taco Bell’s revenge. I finally doze off while watching television. Maybe bed rest isn’t so bad after all.

Vince and Jake get home around 4:00 p.m. and wake me. I hate being awakened during a great nap. It makes me mean. During that time my husband informs me that he is going to a friend’s house to hang out. I am NOT happy. After all, this could be my last weekend before Victoria arrives. Doesn’t he want to spend it with me? And, I did have a non-stress test yesterday . . . and I am on bed rest and need to be waited on hand and foot . . . what is he thinking?

We try to calmly discuss the situation, (i.e. we are trying to figure out if it is okay for him to go or not go without me sounding like a whinny, nagging wife and him not coming off like an uncaring oaf.) I want to say “don’t go,” but I don’t want to be the wife that says “don’t go.” Ladies, I know you understand what I mean.

A few minutes into the discussion I realize that I am feeling more “off” than I have all day. In fact, it appears that I might be having contractions. I very calmly inform Vince that I need to take a break and rest as the baby may be coming. The discussion ends. (We are determined that we will not have a fight before Victoria comes, unlike Jacob’s birth.)

I move to the bedroom and get a piece of paper, pen and my Nike runner’s watch. I start timing my contractions while trying to read a magazine. After about 20 minutes it becomes obvious that they are five minutes apart.

I have Jake bring me the discharge papers from the day before. It says that if the contractions are five minutes or less apart for an hour or more to come back to the hospital. I decide to sit there for another 20 minutes.

At some point Vince comes into the bedroom to check on me. He reviews the paper.

“Crap,” he says.

“Yep,” I say, “crap.”

We cannot believe the baby is coming today. Just the day before I was ready and rearing to go. Not true of this day.

Vince goes to get a shower. I remain in bed and continue to watch the clock.  

After Vince gets out of the shower I inform him that we are indeed going to the hospital. We pack the last few items for me, (I learned my lesson from Jacob’s birth, but that’s another funny story). We also pack an overnight back for Vince and one for Jake.

Jake.

Crap.

My mom isn’t due to arrive until 9/30. We have no Plan B for Jacob.

Vince calls his friend . . . you know . . . the one with whom he was going to hang out . . . and asks if he and his wife could put Jake up for the night. They agree. (We knew they would. Jeff and Melissa ROCK and we love them to pieces.) We load up the car and drive to their house. They live about 20 minutes away from us – in the opposite direction of the hospital – which is about 40 minutes away.

We drop Jake off and head to the hospital. I notice my contractions are now coming about 3.5 – 4 minutes apart. I start talking about some show I saw on t.v. Something about a diet experiment where the subjects were eating like monkeys for a week or something. As I am relaying this information, Vince interrupts me and asks why we are talking about monkeys and weight loss. I tell him to shut up as it is keeping my mind off the fact that I am about to be sawn in half for my c-section by a complete stranger since my doctor is out of town for a convention.

We ramble some more about monkeys and what it would be like to live in a zoo. As we get closer to the hospital my hubby informs me that he is hungry. This makes perfect sense since he has not eaten all day. I suggest he whip into a McDonald’s or Wendy’s so he can eat on the way. He informs me that he isn’t in a McDonald’s or Wendy’s mood.

At this point I’m thinking that he should be a little more worried about me than about his “food mood” but a contraction strikes and I keep my mouth shut.

We find a Griff’s burger joint on the way and pull in.

“Shall we go in?” he asks.

“What do YOU think?” I reply.

“I think we have time to go in,” he says.

“I think we do NOT have time to go in,” I say.

So, we pull up to the drive-in. Imagine my horror when my hubby orders a bar-b-que, bacon, cheeseburger. Um, yeah, that will work out nicely when trying to eat while driving. Again, a well-timed contraction keeps me from opening mouth and inserting foot.

“Honey, what would you like,” he asks.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” I reply.

We get his dinner and pull away from the drive in. I’m relived we are on our way again. He pulls into a parking space and parks the car.

“Um, Sharpin, what are we doing?” I ask.

“Well, this is way too messy to eat while driving,” he informs me.

“Well, dear, I am in labor and it may be a good idea for me to get to the hospital soon,” I remind him.

“It will only take me three minutes to eat this,” he says. “Surely you can wait three minutes?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Vince inhales his burger while I try hard to not get nauseated. The smell is overpowering. I’m literally telling myself I don’t have time to vomit, so suck it up, buttercup. He finishes his burger and informs me that he would like another one.

“Sharpin,” I say, “we need to go to the hospital. I have snacks in my suitcase if you are still hungry. Perhaps you can eat a granola bar or some fig newtons while they are examining me.”

“Okay,” he replies.

He pulls out of the parking lot and we are once again on our way, (thank God!) We arrive at Baylor’s Women’s Center and we park the car. We walk in and go straight to Labor & Delivery. Surprisingly, we are the only ones around.

I walk up to the nurse’s station and ask the two ladies there if they are bored and need something to do. They smile and ask me what I need. I ask if this is the place I trade in my belly for my baby. They inform me that it is and lead me to an examination room. (Actually, now that I think of it, I would call it more of an examination cubical. It’s a three-sided room with a curtain that, when drawn, is just beyond my feet. There’s room for the bed, the monitor and one chair.)

I go into the bathroom to change out of my clothes and provide a urine sample. Vince follows me into the bathroom. Okay, this is a new one. I typically fly solo on my bathroom visits. I stand there for a moment thinking he’ll leave, but he says he needs to pee. I ask if I can pee first. He says sure and just stands there. Okay, I guess you’ll experience the ENTIRE birth process.

I sit on the toilet to provide my urine sample. My husband is amazed that I can pee in a cup with such accuracy.

“It’s one of my many talents,” I inform him. I then ask if we should provide a urine sample from him – you know, see if we can get the nurses something to talk about? Vince declines.

I finish undressing and put on my belly band and highly-fashionable hospital gown. Vince and I walk over to our designated cube where I get hooked up to monitors. Vince goes and sits in a chair about 10 feet away from me.

“Honey, why don’t you move the chair up here next to me,” I suggest.

“Nope,” he replies.

The L&D nurse starts asking me a bunch of questions. It occurs to me that, if I were a stand-up comedian, I’d do a bit about how you are asked tons of questions that could jeopardize your life if answered incorrectly while there’s all this beeping and whirling and buzzing in your ears and painful contractions every three minutes.

I answer all her questions (correctly, I hope) and she goes to check me. This is the part I hate. I’d rather get two IV lines that get “checked.” It freaking hurts.

The nurse informed me that, while I’m fully effaced, I’m only slightly dilated. I remind her that I’m supposed to have a c-section. She says she will call my doctor and see what he wants to do.

Now, the second part of my comedic act will be about this. Why does my doc, who is in Seattle, get to decide? I’m going on three straight hours of contractions and I signed up for a c-section. (I had a c-section with my first. After 13 hours of hard labor they realized I would not open up enough to deliver a baby due to a surgery I had in my 20s). First of all, I should NOT be laying here having contractions. Second of all, I WAS PROMISED A C-SECTION.

So help me, if they send me home . . . .

At this point Vince moves his chair next to me. I later learned that he just can’t handle the “checking” part. Hmmm . . . neither can I . . .

The nurse returns and informs me that my doc will allow the c-section to proceed. I’m not sure if I should say “thank you” or “no duh.”

At this point a whirl of activity starts around me. A doctor pops his head into my cubicle.

“Hi. I’m Dr. McNabb. I’ll b delivering your baby today,” he says. There’s something kind of weird about meeting the guy who’s going to saw you in half for the first time. I mean, at least with my doc he had already done it before. Oh well. At this point I don’t care. Just let this be over, please.

“Nice to meet you,” I reply. "Please remember to tie my tubes and flatten my stomach while you’re in there.” He laughs.

Guess he didn’t think I was serious.

I remind my wonderful husband that, if my tubal is not taken care of, that I will schedule a vasectomy appointment for him next week. He assures me that he is on top of it.

A new nurse comes in to prep me while the first nurse goes to set up the operating room. She leaves and Vince and I are left to watch some t.v. Nothing is on.

I start shaking. I’m scared. I’m nervous. I sort of know what to expect but not really. With Jacob I was under general anesthesia so I have no memory of what happened after being placed on the operating table. I do remember all the bad stuff that happened during recovery. I’m dreading that. My mind is starting to play back some horrible footage so I decide we need to make some phone calls. Vince calls his parents. I call my mom and leave a message. I’m about to call my dad when they come to take me away.

Vince is handed a stack of protective gear, told to put it on and wait outside the door. They will come get him when ready.

Saturday – Part Two

At this point my anesthesiologist enters the room. I remember he had a name tag, but I cannot remember his name. He introduces himself and we chat for a bit. I can’t remember what we discussed but I do remember that he was pretty cool. He and the second nurse – Patti – help me move to the operating table.

By the way, why are those tables so narrow? I’m thinking I’m going to fall off . . .

I sit on the side of the table and hold onto Patti while my new cool friend starts to work on the epidural. It takes a while – a long while. It starts to get very uncomfortable so we take a break. Cool dude informs me that the space between my vertebrae is quite small, so he’s having some challenges positioning the needle. I think it would be nice if something else was small – like my butt or something. We chat for a while and then we go again. It gets bad again so we take another break and chat some more. I can’t believe how patient this guy is being. This is a completely different experience that my first go round.

We try again. This time it takes and I feel my toes go blissfully numb. Cool. Within seconds I can no longer feel my legs. A few seconds later and I now longer feel my bum. Patti says I can lie down. I ask for help. She and cool dude help me lie down. Cool dude gives me some oxygen. I lie there for a while and try to only look at the ceiling. All the medical equipment and sharp objects freak me out. Right before they put up the curtain I see Patti write 21:17 on the white board. “Here we go,” I think.

A parade of people start coming into the room. It seems like 10 people come into the room one by one.

“Hi. My name is Such-n-Such and I’ll be your whatever today,” they all say.

I'm thinking hey, I don’t know anyone in here so the more the merrier . . . especially if they have drugs.

Vince hasn’t shown up yet.

A lot more prep work goes on, but I’m sort of out of it. It’s like I know that something is being done to me and that discussions are being held, but I’m trying so hard to tune everything out. I’m focusing on my new daughter. I’m thinking about all the cute clothes she has. Will she have hair? I hope so, because I have a TON of bows.

Around 21:45 Vince comes into the room.

“Where ya been?” I ask.

“I think they forgot me,” he says.

He sits down next to my head and we start talking. I can only see his eyes and am having a hard time focusing on what he is saying.

I feel something on my belly. It almost feels like they are drawing pictures on my belly and reminds me of the game that Jake and I play. I’ll “draw” a picture on his back and he’ll guess what it is. Then he takes a turn.

After a while the doc pokes his head over the sheet and asks if we are ready. I said no.

I start singing a tune to help me relax. I’m still shaking. I look up at cool dude who’s standing at my head with his arms crossed. I can only see his eyes, but I can tell he’s smiling. I guess he likes Korn too.

I feel a bit of pressure and then some water. You know how if you step on the side of a kiddie pool the water will rush out? It felt kind of like that, only I was the pool. I feel a tugging sensation. The doc says something . . . I can’t hear over my singing. My husband says “what?”  The doc repeats what he says. I still can’t hear.

“What did he say,” I ask Vince.

“Nothing, honey. He’s just being funny.”

Great - a doc who tells jokes. Just what I need. 

I hear my baby cry. What a great sound! Our baby came into the world at 21:58. A 7 pound, 19.75 inch long bundle of joy.

The doc asks me if I’m sure I want the tubal. “YES!” my husband shouts.

I hear the nurses working with my new little girl. After a few minutes the nurse comes over and shows me my baby. She tells me the genitalia look a bit ambiguous so they are not sure if I have a girl or boy. I look at my beautiful baby and inform her that, if she is a he, we will just call him Victor Andrew instead of Victoria Ann. I’m always ready with a one-liner.

The nurse asks Vince if he wants to go with her to the NICU. He says yes and leaves. A few minutes later the doc peeks his head over and says, “are you sure you want the tubal? I can stop now.”

“Do it,” I say.

After all, I am 37 and we were not planning to have a second child. There was no way I was up for a third.

The doc finishes the tubal and then stitches me closed. This part takes longer than the birth. All of the sudden it’s over and I’m being moved to a hospital bed. I feel fine. I’m awake and am even helping the nurse hold the doors open as they move me to a recovery room.

Vince and I hang out in recovery for a little while. It seems like it’s only a half hour or so. My mom calls and I talk to her for a few minutes. The nurse comes in and I hand the phone to Vince to finish up the conversation. Mom is flying in the next morning.

The pediatrician on call comes into the room to talk to us. He tells us we have a baby girl that may have adrenal hyperplasia. We talk about treatment. He tells us that she will need surgery to build a vaginal opening and to reduce the size of her clitoris. He also tells us that hormone therapy will be needed. We’re not sure what all of this means. We are just taking in the information at this point. We authorize blood work be done to confirm her condition. The doctor tells us he will be in contact with an endocrinologist at Children’s in the morning.

The time comes to move me to the room that will be my home away from home for the next few days. Patti asks if I want to stop by NICU to see my baby before going to my room. I say yes. They wheel me in there – bed and all. The NICU nurse tells me a little about what they are seeing with the genitalia. Basically it appears that she has an enlarged clitoris and no vaginal opening. I ask her to show me. She removes the diaper and starts pointing things out. It definitely looks different that what I expected. My immediate concern is can she pee? As if she hears my question she pees right then. Okay, that’s cool. At least we don’t have that problem.

The NICU nurse asks me if I want the baby in my room. I tell her yes and we agree that she will arrive at 1:00 a.m. Our date being set, I’m taken to my room. I get ice chips on the way. What a glorious treat. 

Friday I went to the doctor today due to increased swelling in my feet and some new swelling in my hands and face. I also noticed some redness in my hands. My blood pressure was border line at the last three visits. During today’s visit there was a trace of protein in my urine, so I was sent to the hospital for a non-stress test. 

As I lay at the hospital hooked up to the monitors I got very excited. Would today be the day Victoria Ann Sharpin joined our family? Her due date was still more than a week away – October 2^nd. But, to be honest, I had been feeling pretty miserable lately and was ready to get this process moving along. Yeah, her nursery wasn’t done, but enough of it was done to take care of what needed to be taken care of. I mentally checked off what was still left to be done  . . . there was nothing critical. Yep, today was the day. 

When the nurse came back and told me it was time to go home, I was disappointed. I could use another weekend to get a few more things done, but I was ready. I mean I was READY! 

Sigh. 

I was placed on bed rest. Geesh, that sort of stressed me out. On one hand it sounded like absolute Heaven. I could lie on the couch eating bon bons, (what is a bon bon anyway?). On the other hand the thought of all the work I had not yet wrapped up had me worried. Ultimately I reconciled the work stuff. Our daughter is more important. 

I wondered if it was okay for me to pick up some bon bons on the way home or if I needed to go straight to bed . . .