Birth of a Princess

Birth of a Princess

Meghan Adelaide Wheeler is a princess in the eyes of her parents. There was a time in our lives that we said, “Never!” The day we married we did not want children. One day my biological clock starting ticking and it was ticking loudly. My poor husband, Phillip, began to wonder what happened to his perfect bride; the bride who agreed that not having children was the life for us. Over time, he began to soften and decided that maybe a child would be tolerable.

Before long, we found ourselves in the infertility rat race. There were blood tests, biopsies, and more blood tests. Eventually, we tried the fertility drug Clomid. Ultrasounds showed the first round of fertility drugs would not be successful. We decided to take a camping trip, relax, and prepare for the next month of fertility medications. Three weeks later we learned that we were indeed successful and would be preparing for a baby arriving in the spring.

Phillip deployed to Iraq shortly after we discovered I was pregnant. He left a wife who was pregnant, but not yet showing. When he returned almost six months later, his wife was nearly seven months pregnant and looked every bit the part. The next couple of months were spent preparing a nursery, shopping for baby gear, and taking classes. By the time April, the month I was due, rolled around, I was ready to take my body back from my little parasite.

One Friday night, we went on what we felt would be our last date for the foreseeable future. I let Phillip pick the movie, not because I was being nice, but because I knew I would spend the evening going back and forth to the bathroom. It was not a surprise when he chose an action packed movie. With every loud explosion, I felt our baby girl startle. I was getting beat up from the inside.

The next day, I had appointments for a pedicure and haircut. By this time, my belly was so swollen I could not fit comfortably behind the wheel of the car. I asked my husband to drive me the thirty minutes into town. As we were getting ready to leave the house, I had this nagging feeling that I should finish packing my hospital bag and put it in the car. Pushing that feeling aside, we left the house without the bag. Phillip dropped me off for my appointments and left to spend the next two hours exploring Sportsman’s Warehouse and a local fly fishing store.

In the middle of my heavenly pedicure, I felt a trickle of wetness and thought, “Great I have peed myself.” I was embarrassed and hoped that when I stood up it would not be noticeable. Following my pedicure, I waddled to another station for my haircut. My stylist, Liza, gave me a relaxing scalp massage and then washed my hair. When I stood up after having my hair washed, I felt this gush of fluid rush down my legs. Turning to Liza I said, “Uh, Liza, I think my water just broke!”

Instantly the spa became a flurry of panic; employees were in frenzy over what to do. Ironically, it was the pregnant woman who calmed their nervousness. It took some quick talking, but I finally convinced them that an ambulance was not necessary. Assuring Liza and her co-workers, I promised, “She won’t come barreling down the chute,” and that Phillip would be there by 1:00 p.m. to take me home. I persuaded Liza to finish my haircut. Just as I promised, Phillip arrived shortly before 1:00 p.m. The look of disbelief on his face as I told him that my water broke was unforgettable.

We left the spa; however, we did not rush to the hospital. I knew from the birthing class we attended, that once I arrived at the hospital the likelihood of them letting me eat was slim. With that in mind, we went to Carl’s Jr. for lunch. My water broke at noon, and we arrived at the hospital at 2:00 p.m.

My doctor, Dr. Temple, happened to be the doctor on call when we arrived at Bassett Community Army Hospital on Fort Wainwright in Fairbanks, Alaska. I was relieved to see her. Dr. Temple had been with us through a rough miscarriage and was the doctor that helped us conceive our daughter. It was only fitting that she be the doctor to deliver Meghan. The doctor performed a test to confirm that my water had broken. I was then admitted to the hospital. My nurse quickly went to work setting up my IV and getting me settled into my room. I sent Phillip home to go running, have some dinner, feed the cat, and finish packing the hospital bag. Phillip does not have the patience to sit and wait.

Since walking the halls did not bring about labor, the nurse administered Pitocin at 7:00 p.m. Pitocin is the synthetic version of oxytocin; the hormone a woman’s body produces to start labor. Not long after the Pitocin was started, labor began. Shortly thereafter, I requested an epidural. Thanks to the epidural I was able to sleep, as well as one can in a hospital, the rest of the night. The nursing staff did a great job of waking me up every hour to take my vitals. Meghan did a wonderful job of keeping the nurses on their toes with her dramatically fluctuating heart rate. Her heart rate would plummet and they would rush in to have me roll over. She would settle back down for a short time, only to have the nurses come rushing back in to have me roll the other direction. While all this was happening, my darling husband snored on the chair next to my bed.

By 8:30 a.m., I was ready to deliver my daughter. Just sixty short minutes later, the most beautiful little girl I have ever laid my eyes on was born. With her birth, the mystery behind her fluctuating heart rate was solved. Meghan was born with a tight true knot in her cord. Both Dr. Temple and the nurse commented that since her true knot was tight, we were fortunate. The outcome could have been tragic.

Meghan is our miracle baby. She is the miracle we never thought we would want, but soon figured out that we did. She is the miracle that was not supposed to be after the first round of fertility drugs. She is the miracle born with the true knot in her umbilical cord that could have proven deadly. Our little miracle has introduced us to the world of pink and princesses. Our little miracle is a princess.