How our Salad Bowl Ended up in Labor and Delivery

(an inaugural post by D)
We are proud to announce that Camilla gave birth to a healthy baby boy, 8 lbs 4 oz, 20 inches, at 3:50pm yesterday (6/22) on the bathroom floor, with a neighbor friend catching the baby. This is not a joke.

I was operating at the Intermountain Medical Center in Murray all day while Camilla ran up to the University hospital for a non stress test since she was due that day. Baby and Mom checked out fine, and they felt her contractions were just "false labor". She returned home and continued to have some intermittent, uncomfortable contractions, but was otherwise feeling fine and told me to just finish my cases for the day.

About 15 minutes later, she called me back and left a message in the O.R. that she was taking the kids to BJ's house. I quickly excused myself from the O.R. and recieved another page from Camilla: on this page she left a 911 in the subject line. So then I was running to my car and calling the house. The line was busy because Camilla was calling a friend to come and get the kids. Bless Eliza's little heart (six year old twin); she answered my call to Camilla's cell phone while waiting out in the car for mom to drop them off. After talking to me, Eliza ran back in and asked mom if she needed 911. I could hear Camilla in the background yell, "YES!" By now I was racing down I-15 at 90 mph weaving through traffic with 911 on the line.

Camilla's friend, Liz Hughes, arrived just after Camilla realized she was crowning. Liz just thought she was coming to pick up the kids, but quickly realized she was going to deliver a baby as she heard Camilla screaming, "Liz!!! Get in here! I'm crowning!" He had prolapsed his cord and was coming out blue secondary to cord compression. As Liz spoke to 911 on the phone, Camilla pushed out the baby's head. She then looked at Liz and said, "I am pushing this baby out. I need you to pull." That's exactly what happened. 1-2-3 PUSH!!! Liz pulled out his shoulders, and then placed him on Camilla's belly.

The baby was still blue and not crying, but making some gurgles. Camilla then tells Liz to go to the baby’s room and bring back the bulb syringe that was on the dresser. With a little suctioning he started to breathe but without great crying. The paramedics arrived right then and clamped/cut the cord.

By this time, I had screeched to a stop in front of my house and dashed inside past my curious neighbors. No one seemed to notice the little doctor dad in green scrubs trying to push through the hallway so I calmly spoke up and said, “I need you all to move out of the way. I am the Dad and a physician." (Scary thought- I couldn't fake being a doctor any more)

Camilla was in obvious discomfort, but in control and safe. The baby was blue, but breathing now, and starting to pink up. We wrapped the baby up and rushed him out to the ambulance, which had been heated up to near 100 degrees, and gave the little dude some oxygen while I slapped his feet and pinched his chest. He pinked up great, cried a little, and then just stared at me through his charcoal colored gooey eyes. Totally cute.

Once he looked OK (3 minutes later), I put him in the arms of this very gentle, young paramedic and returned to the house. They had put Camilla up into a rolling chair and were getting ready to put her on a gurney by the front door. The best part of the experience for Camilla occurred when the paramedics said, "Oh, she's little. She'll be easy to pick up." They then wheeled her out, salad bowel between her legs catching the placenta, while she looked at my twenty neighbors and said to one, "That is not how you want to have a baby!!!" BJ and Cynthia arrived as we were leaving and took care of the kids and the war zone left in the bathroom. (All Cynthia... Thanks).

The ambulance then rushed us up to the University Hospital. We wheeled into the labor and delivery unit. They apparently were not ready for us, so Camilla had to wait in an open hallway, salad bowl and all, until they could prepare her a bed. I didn't want to just wait in the hall with the baby, so I walked directly to the nursery and stated that "I have a new admit who was just born on my bathroom floor." They all just looked at me confused, probably because I was dressed in IHC scrubs, and they couldn't figure out why some doctor had carried a baby over here from the children’s hospital. Once they realized I wasn't joking everyone was eager to help.

Since there were no admission documents we taped our name on the baby, and the nursery cleaned him up so that he looked liked he'd just been born in the movies. Camilla was doing great. They finished delivering the placenta, and best of all, they gave her a whopping dose of FENTANYL which was all she wanted.

Now everyone is doing great. Baby likes to eat, cry, poop, fart, and wants to get circumcised again because he's a masochist. Camilla is sore, relieved, and will likely have some post traumatic stress disorder for awhile. Everyone is just great.

We owe so much to great neighbors and an awesome family who were willing to rise to the occasion when the unthinkable happened. This has been so humbling. At various moments throughout this trial we have found ourselves pleading with our Father for help I can testify that there were angels in my home protecting my family.

On a side note, I am more convinced than ever that Camilla could have crossed the plains, buried me in the process, saved the Willy-Martin handcart company, and built her own house in the Salt Lake Valley. She is my heroine and I love her for her courage, clarity of mind, and faith. Wow. Let’s not do this again.

We love you all and hope you are all well. Thank you for your love and prayers.