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Basking in newborn's glow after suspense

By BRIDGET HALL GRUMET
Published October 17, 2005

	[Times photo: Janel Schroeder-Norton]
	Named after two grandfathers, Toby Lewis Grumet was born at 3:03 p.m. Oct. 10 after both labor and a caesarean section.

As I felt the pressure - but, thankfully, not the pain - of the doctor drawing the incision across my lower belly, I turned to my husband, Wayne, dressed in blue hospital scrubs.

"So," I asked, trying to distract myself from the pending caesarean section, "any final predictions on the gender?"

"I think it's a boy," Wayne said, frankly dropping the he/she hedging we've been using with each other and everyone else for the past nine months.

"So do I," I replied.

One of the nurses said she could see the head, covered in a blondish fuzz, but the room waited for the doctor to pull out the baby and proclaim the big news:

"It's a boy!"

I could hear junior crying - a hearty, but seemingly angst-free yelp - and it was the greatest sound I'd ever heard.

Getting to that point was no picnic. My water broke about 4:30 p.m. Oct. 9, as I was finishing up a phone chat with my parents. I called the midwife, who told me to rest at home until my contractions came three to five minutes apart. If that didn't happen by 5 a.m. Oct. 10, she said, we would have to induce labor.

Wayne and I sat around and watched the Yankees-Angels game (he's a native New Yorker and loyal fan), and the contractions came and went with varying frequency. Finally, shortly before midnight, I decided it would be best to head to the hospital.

The monitors at Helen Ellis Memorial Hospital in Tarpon Springs showed the erratic contractions were coming four to nine minutes apart, and an exam revealed I was only 2 centimeters dilated. (You need to be at 10 centimeters to push the baby out.) It was frustrating news, and I feared it would be a long, difficult labor - the kind that moms-to-be always hear horror stories about.

About 4 a.m. Oct. 10, the nurses started administering IV fluids in preparation for giving the labor-inducing drug, Pitocin. As that drug began producing searing contractions, this whole going-into-labor thing became frighteningly, painfully real.

So I opted for the body-numbing epidural. Smartest thing I've ever done. For about two hours that morning, I got the only sleep I'd have for the 30-hour stretch.

When the time came about noon to start pushing, I squeezed every muscle in my body with every bit of animalistic strength I could summon. But after two exhaustive hours, the baby was no farther descended than when I began.

"I give your efforts an A-plus," the midwife told me.

And the baby's efforts, I asked?

"A "D,"' she said, frowning.

Junior's first bad grade.

In another two hours, we would be approaching the 24-hour mark since my water broke. Doctors were determined to have the baby out by then, for the risk of infection was rising with each passing hour. The midwife said I could try pushing for another hour, but given the difficulties so far, I began to feel like this whole process would end up in the operating room. At that point, going with the C-section was a relief: At least the labor would be over.

And it was over quick. At 3:03 p.m., Toby Lewis Grumet was born in perfect health.

We picked the name in honor of two grandfathers: Toby is Wayne's grandfather, a man I can describe only as the George Burns of the family. At nearly 90 years old, he's always trying out new jokes on us when we visit. He may be the most popular man in his Fort Lauderdale retirement haven of Kings Point, and if the community had a mayor, this retired postal carrier would probably be it.

Lewis is the middle name of my grandfather, William, who was a naval intelligence officer during World War II. He gave me his Irish pride, an appreciation for wry humor and a love of Mark Twain. He gave my grandmother, crippled by a series of strokes, everything he possibly could.

And what made us think the baby would be a boy? Wayne says he had a gut feeling early on. I wasn't so sure until I did the research for the column on guessing the baby's gender: The Chinese astrology charts and baby consignment shop owner Chuck Miller (a self-taught expert on these things) both predicted a boy, so I figured they were probably right.

My postlabor recovery went remarkably well. The midwife marveled that my labor-to-C-section experience was like running a marathon and then having major surgery. I'm just glad they invented drugs for this sort of thing. I'm still tender but mobile, and the doctors sent me home Thursday afternoon.

With little Toby in tow, of course.

Shortly before discharging me, the doctor checked the healing incision and told me I'd end up with a nice-looking scar: "a silver lining," he called it.

I look at little Toby, and I don't even remember the clouds, only the silver lining.

--Bridget Hall Grumet worked in the Times' Citrus County bureau from 2000 to 2002. She now works for the Times in Pasco County. She can be reached in west Pasco at 727 869-6244 or toll-free at 1-800-333-7505, ext. 6244. Her e-mail address is bhall@sptimes.com

[Last modified October 17, 2005, 01:18:14]