The Day A Baby Accidentally Fell Out Of My Vajayjay.

Spoiler alert:  Meyer is almost 4 now.  But our story is pretty crazy and I’ll never forget the preemie journey.  Nothing can prepare you for it and nothing can get you through it except great medical technology and professionals, prayers, luck and love. Here’s my crazy preemie birth story.

This time last year, I was in exactly the same place I am today for Thanksgiving.  Except I was about 4 1/2 months pregnant.

I was entering a holiday season where I was dreaming about having a new family member a year from then one moment and being the most gripey, miserable pregnant person ever placed on the planet the next.

The day a baby fell out of my vajayjay. A preemie story you won't soon forget by Toulouse & Tonic

To expect one pregnancy to be just like the one before, I’ve now learned, is nonsense.

With Asher, I felt pretty good.  I wasn’t spectacularly moody.  And things went exactly according to plan.

He came at the exact moment our doctor had planned after a relatively short labor in which our favorite music was lovingly playing in the background thanks to hubs’ “Welcome to the World” mix.

In fact, he was born as one of our all-time favorite songs (Mexico by Jump Little Children) was playing, just like it was preordained, and every single time I hear that song, I think of that wonderful experience.

The second one had other ideas.

We’d just wrapped up the holidays, had barely put the tree away, and something weird started leaking out of me.

Gabe and Asher were off at a park somewhere at least 30 minutes from our house and after realizing that I wasn’t just peeing myself (unless you’ve been pregnant, you will not understand this statement), I realized I would need someone professional to see what was happening down south.

It was a Sunday so my doctor’s office was closed.  The ER it would be.

I was only 27 weeks pregnant and alone.  In lieu of panicking, I went into shock.  Like I was on a TV show, I calmly turned off the soup bubbling on the stove, grabbed my purse and jacket and drove to the hospital.

Gabe dropped Ash with a friend and met me there.

One little test strip later, a doctor I’d never seen before gave me the news:  your water has broken and you live in the hospital now.

I won’t go into those 2 1/2 weeks because they’re a story unto themselves.  I was kind of an ornery patient.

But if you really wanna know what  day in the life of a pregnant woman on bed rest in the hospital is like, read this.

We’ll move on.

2 weeks and 2 days after I checked in, a 29 weeker fell out of my vagina.

In my antepartum room.

It was kind of an emergency situation, to say the least.

I’d been telling the nurses and the doctors that I was in labor all day and they’d hooked me up to the machine and then told me I was not. I could feel the labor pains spaced evenly apart, I was miserable, I even had to get up and walk.

But I believed them since they’re the trained medical professionals.

But, umm, yeah, they were wrong.

His little butt fell out.  I pushed the emergency button.  My nurse came into the room, said “what’s wrong?” took one look and then all hell broke loose.

Within seconds, there were at least 12 people in my antepartum room.

Some were yelling, “PUSH, PUSH, PUSH!”

Others were preparing emergency measures for the baby as soon as he was free.

There was a chaplain holding my hand and asking me questions about anything other than what was happening.

But the main sound in the room was me SCREAMING expletives.

It does not feel good to push a baby out of your vagina without any kind of drugs at all in your system.  Not even a  3 pound, 3 ounce one.  (This is about the stage where BabyCenter starts referring to your fetus as the size of a pineapple.  Probably a good reference.)

When it wasn’t going so well, someone took a pair of scissors and cut me.  Also with no anesthetic or pain meds.

After they mercifully pulled him from me and the Neonatologist went to work on the baby, the doctor came in from the cafeteria with a “What the hell happened here?” look on his face.

Hope your pot roast was good, doc.  Nice of you to join us.

As someone handed me my cell phone so I could notify my husband he was a father again, the doc proceeded to push on my stomach to try and dislodge the placenta while I just stared at the tiny, tiny baby blinking next to me, using every breath I had to ask if he was okay.

Oh, and to cuss some more, because it actually hurt worse than the delivery.

Poor hubs showed up about an hour after he’d left my room to find a bloody disarray of shit and a wife in complete shock.

Our first trip to the NICU a couple of hours later made me glad for the state of shock. Our tiny baby was intubated and strapped down.  Wires were everywhere.

The journey that followed — the preemie roller coaster — was easily the most stressful of my life.

Preemies are so delicate.  They often seem to be doing well one day and the next day you walk into the NICU and things aren’t looking so good.

Meyer spent 2 1/2 months in the NICU and had tons of ups and downs.  He was sick, he was better, he was sick, he was better, he was sick, he had surgery, he couldn’t eat, he was aspirating, he had bradycardias and apneas…

But the thing that kept me going was this.  When you’re spending every day at a Children’s Hospital (like this amazing one), you see and overhear a lot of things that make you realize so many people have it worse than you.  It made me count my blessings.

On his due date, we brought Meyer home with an apnea monitor and a feeding tube.

I carried that apnea monitor around on my shoulder to up to 7 doctor appointments a week for 4 1/2 months and then finally, we got to send it back.  It was a big day.

The feeding tube (and the aspiration) are still with us.

But he’s otherwise healthy and happy.  And improving.

In fact, he’s such a good baby, I often feel like he’s trying to make up for all the trouble by being such a perfect little specimen.

His birth was like an episode out of some horrible redneck reality show.  I’ve never shared the story until now.

But I wanted to take part in a link-up for World Prematurity Awareness Day hosted by Jessica at Four Plus an Angel and Natalie at Mommy of a Monster and Twins to raise awareness and money for the March of Dimes.

And it seemed like the time was right.

Happy Thanksgiving.  Hug yo babies.

Here’s an update for you.  Meyer is 2!  And he’s doing great. He passed his swallow study at 13 months, got his tube out and is a fantastic eater. He’s caught up in all respects. We’re so lucky!IMG_3104

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  1. Oh my. What an awful story (but one with a happy ending).

    A girl that reported to me many years ago had a baby at about 28 weeks. Her story is very similar to yours, and like your child, her son is thriving. He must be about 4 now.

    Thanks for sharing your story. I’m so glad it all worked out. I imagine an experience such as that would give your life all sorts of perspective. I’m just thankful it didn’t take your sense of humor as you are one funny woman, my friend.

    Happy Thanksgiving.

    • Perspective (and a delightful baby) have been my greatest blessings from this long ordeal. Thank you so much and know that I feel likewise. Congrats on your #1 Finding the Funny this week!

  2. Wow, I was crying while reading this. I too had issues with my second and some how by the grace of god and my doctor, too who was amazing, through a hospital stay and bed rest my crazy lady hung on until 39 weeks. But your story brought back some of those awful feelings of uncertainty I felt during that time when I was told at 21 weeks to be warned anything could happen. Thanks for sharing and Happy Thanksgiving. Your boys are adorable!!

    • Thank you so much. I sometimes accidentally see a photo of my hospital room and get really anxious again. The only way I made it through that whole thing was to take it day by day. If I ever looked even a day ahead into the future, it was all way too overwhelming. I can’t believe you were on bedrest that long and maintained your sanity. You are made up of strong stuff, my dear!

  3. I’m also a momma of a 29 weeker. He’ll be 11 in February. Their struggle does change you. It certainly puts things in perspective and you learn how easy it is to not sweat the small stuff.

    • So true. I don’t know what issues you might’ve brought home from the hospital with you but for us, every time we move beyond one, it’s such a great milestone. The feeding tube is annoying (especially when he pulls it out) but counted among the things we could be dealing with, no biggie. I can deal. Thanks so sharing!

  4. Bethany Thies says:

    Both of you are fighters. Both of you are amazing. What a terrifying yet inspiring story to read. Giving thanks for the health of your little one and for perspective. Happy Thanksgiving, mama.

  5. Wow. Just wow. I don’t know what to say. I’m so glad your sweet little baby is doing well. I can’t even imagine how stressful and traumatic that whole experience must have been for you. Thank you for sharing your story.

  6. i had a 31 weeker via very sudden emergency c-section. isn’t it just the most horrifying experience when things go SO not the way we planned? i re-lived some of that anxiety when i read your story… my little guy is now 2 and 1/2 yo. and he came home on the monitor (what a lovely noise they’ve discovered in that alarm!) and on caffeine. 4 months later we sent that thing back from whence it came- hooray! he has had feeding therapy too, and some minor surgery, and a lot of mommy-boy/anti-social behavior problems. i am proud to announce that he is pulling out of all those problems on his own now and is nearly normal!! baby steps… 🙂

    • It helps me so much to read successful preemie stories so thank you! We sent the monitor back after 4 1/2 months but are still dealing with the feeding tube. He’s so healthy otherwise though, so we’re terribly lucky. The feeding tube will eventually be gone!
      And yes, his birth experience sent me into utter shock. All I have to say about that is, thank goodness for shock!

  7. My grandson was born 12 weeks premature. He is now 3 and one of the greatest joys of my life (and those around him). We know how lucky we were he was as healthy as he was and has been (he has to have a procedure to close a vein from his heart to lungs, common in premies but they’ve caught it later than usual) but otherwise, he’s been fairly healthy other than the ups and downs in NICU. When my daughter went into labor, she was facing spending the rest of her pregnancy in the hospital (because her water broke). They stopped it for as long as they could but that actually ended up only being 24 hours. He was just ready to come, I suppose.

  8. Your story hits so close to home. My 28 weeker just turned 3. I carted around oxygen and a monitor until we finally sent that stuff back when he was 10months. We went through the ups and downs, good days and bad days for what seemed like forever. Even after all those downs: procedures, complications, painful reminders of how precious life is (and an eventual diagnosis of autism), i still believe that “perspective is a beautiful thing.” There are things i still can’t see, smells that bring me back to those days in the NICU, that turn my stomach and instantly sprout tears in my eyes. I am scarred and traumatized beyond repair but that pain gave me clarity and taught me all about that beautiful thing “perspective”.

    • Karen…So totally true. I saw a movie Saturday night at the theater that had nothing to do with babies and out of nowhere, there was a still shot of a preemie in his incubator with all the tubes and wires on the screen and I just started crying. Having to go into survival/crisis mode as soon as you give birth and stay that way for so long, you never get time to really process. I imagine I’ll be just like you even 10 years from now…moved to tears by smells, sounds and sights that remind me of that stressful time. We are lucky we have our babies though. Thank God for medical technology.

  9. Good Lord. I went into labor with my twins at 27wks but managed to hold them in until almost 32. During my lovely hospital bed rest “vacation” I knew something was badly wrong because every time I had a contraction my heart would race and my vision would blur. The docs assured me I was fine and pretty much made me feel like a wacko until they discovered I had pulmonary edema (fluid build-up around heart and lungs) at a pretty dangerous level. It’s not always fun to prove the docs wrong, is it? Glad your little guy is doing so well, and thanks for sharing your story!

  10. Wow. What a tale! I found you on Pinterest searching for preemie humor and I must say that your birth story is the first birth story I’ve read written with humor (and I’ve read a LOT as I handle all the birth stories for Preemie Resources). You did a great job writing this – and while I know from personal experience that it’s hard and shocking you did a great job with this. I look forward to checking out more of your blog. Our preemies were similar weights, stays, and ohhh four months on that monitor, too! I thought it would go off in a store and people would run thinking it was a fire. The only time that happened, ironically, was at the pediatricians 😉

    • Awesome to hear from you! I pretty much handle it all with humor…it’s the only way I can survive. Check out the bed rest episodes if you have time. You picked a good day to write me…he just passed his swallow study JUST NOW and we’re done with our preemie issues!!!!
      Thank you for writing and visiting. Welcome, welcome, welcome!
      p.s. my monitor went off everywhere. but the worst thing was being somewhere and having someone back up their little rascal with that beeping sound and going nuts thinking it was your baby’s apnea monitor. Argh!

  11. Wow! Such a familiar story, love the humor. The day I delivered my son, I spent the day telling my husband I feel feet. Same thing, they would hook up the monitors and tell me, not yet. My husband finally lost it and as soon as the nurse took a look, she saw feet! Delivery was then an emergency C-section. Nothing like being prepped for surgery with feet flailing. Poor baby came out badly bruised with a dislocated hip on top of his bowel obstruction diagnoses. 3 surgeries and 3 months in the NICU, we now have a healthy 1 yr old miracle. Love happy endings! Thanks for sharing your story.

  12. The dreaded water break. my water broke after 8 hours of labor at 1 cm. At 30 hours and 5 cm we decided to do a c section. Good thing too, since the cord was wrapped around his neck and he was stuck. Thanks for reminding a healthy c section is not as bad as a nicu baby (and to keep humor going)

  13. Shanna Johnson says:

    I am glad I read some latter posts before I read this one and knew that your son was okay. I was one of the really lucky ones. I had a horrible pregnancy and delivery with my first, all sorts of complications for mommy, but Brian was just fine. Sympathy on the delivery without pain medication, I know how that feels. My second was a semi-emergency C-section at ~31 weeks with twins because Jacob wasn’t growing properly (ultrasounds every week for 2 months) and didn’t have enough fluid around him so had to be out within 24 hours. Despite the fact that I had been crying a lot for 2 months and trying not to think about Jacob dying, I was really lucky. Since he was only 3.5 lbs he had to be in the NICU, but he ate well and didn’t even need an IV. He shared his room with a set of twins that were so fragile their mother was barely allowed to touch their fingers. I was reminded every time I visited that I was one of the lucky ones, but I still threw up from stress, just having him in the NICU and knowing he was too fragile to come home. One week and he was home. Ironically it is his twin, James, that ended up having the worst medical problems and these were confined to stomach surgery, lots of vomiting, and severe acid reflux. I am grateful for the medical technology we have that ensures so many premies survive that would otherwise be lost. I am even more grateful that my own little boys were ones that survived and now thrive.

    • ashersmom says:

      I’m so glad you wrote and told me your story. Medical technology has brought about some amazing miracles and I, like you, am oh-so-grateful! I’m so happy your story turned out well. We’re lucky!


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