From "Necessary Journeys." Published by Hyperion Books. Used by permission.
My water broke on Sunday, August 21, which was also my husband Doug's 37th birthday. My labor was easy and short, and the delivery uneventful, if unusual, in that it was attended by a rather large group of people and would be seen by over 10 million people on national television the next day. (It was on "Good Morning America" in the morning; and then rebroadcast on "Oprah.")
Charles Brett Myers was a beautiful full-term baby, weighing in at seven pounds, two ounces, and perfectly formed. Doug had gotten the birthday present of a lifetime and I was tired but profoundly happy. We called our friends with the wondrous news. Hours later, after everyone left, Doug and I sat together talking and eating pasta with the contentment that comes of shared experience while Charlie slept in a bassinet in the corner of the room.
The labor nurse, Barb Silver, came in to check on the baby. She hung over him for a few minutes and said nothing, then left. Moments later, she returned with another nurse. They were soon joined by a third. As a doctor, I knew immediately that this much attention was not a good thing. His color was fine but he was starting to breathe too quickly. Charlie was moved to the Intensive Care Unit as a precaution.
The pediatrician came back with the results of the baby's chest X ray. Instead of clear, black images, his lung fields were fluffy and white. This was a life-threatening newborn infection called Group B strep. Babies can be colonized with strep as they pass through the birth canal, and in a matter of hours, a deadly infection can take hold. The only way to treat it is with aggressive use of intravenous antibiotics.
I tried to reassure myself that they would just hold him for 48 hours while the antibiotics took effect and that, once the blood cultures came back clean, we would all go home as a family.
Doug went home to our daughters, Kate and Rachel, that night, and I tossed and turned, sleepless. By Monday afternoon it was clear the baby would not be going home anytime soon. If anything, Charlie's condition had worsened.
Slowly, joy gave way first to shock and then later to fear.
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