The Unusual Birth of My Grandson, Dylan By Diana Stinson

When my first grandchild, Dylan, was born, my daughter, Marla, and her doctor, re-arranged everything. She was scheduled to arrive at the hospital at 7 am, on the morning of February 10, 1997. First she had to go through the admission process, and then start the inducement process. I went with her. Everything went as planned, she was admitted and given a really nice room designed for delivering new born babies. First, the nurse came in and began the inducement process. Then she told Marla to start walking up and down the halls, which is the normal procedure, which should have helped her go into labor. So for the first few hours that morning, we walked, up one hall and down the other.

Then they told her she should stay in bed; the nurse hooked her up to a monitor to keep a check on the babies’ heart rate. Every hour or so a nurse would check her to see if she had started dilating. The bad part is that she never did. She kept complaining about how uncomfortable she was and how much she wished she had not agreed to the inducement procedure. When her doctor arrived that evening, he examined her and announced that she was not in labor. She pleaded with him to go home for the night. She told him she was so tired and wanted to sleep in her own bed. He agreed, since we were not that far from the hospital; I told him we could get her there in about 15 minutes if necessary.

Back at home Marla was still very uncomfortable from the inducement medication and the examinations. She took a bath, and told me she thought her water may have broke. After that, the two of us slept in the living room or tried to. Next, she told me she felt like she was having labor pains. I called the nurse. She reassured us that it was probably just pain from the inducement. So we tried to sleep, but she kept having pains. I started timing them; they were getting closer together. When she was having pains as close as 5 minutes apart, I knew it would not be long. So I called the nurse and the ER to let them know her Dad and I were on our way with her. I asked the ER nurse to have a wheelchair ready because she would need one.

Her Dad drove, while she tried to get comfortable in the back seat. She held my hand so tight, it bruised. As soon as we got to the ER, I ran in to get the wheelchair, but they did not have one. The nurse said they would have to go to the 2^nd floor and would be right back. Meanwhile, Marla had to wait. As soon as the wheelchair arrived, we helped her into it. They told us we had to sign papers again before they could see her.

There I was signing papers, and Marla looked up at me and said Mom, “I think my water really broke this time”. I signed my name. Then Marla cried, “Mom I think it’s the baby”. At that instant, without a moment’s hesitation, I reached down and caught my grandson. I was holding on to him – a nurse ran over and held on to him too.

The ER staff frantically ran to get a stretcher and got Marla and baby on it. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Everyone in the ER, all the patients, a few security guards, the doctors and nurses witnessed the birth of our first grandson. It was also a coincidence that Marla’s best friend Sarah was there. She had planned to be in the delivery room with Marla. Sarah and her Mother were there with her Dad, who had diabetes, and was in one of the examining rooms waiting to be seen by the ER doctor.

On February 11, 1997, at 12:25 am, Dylan Keith Hicks was born. 
I was crying and laughing at the same time – mostly, I was hysterical. It was hard to comprehend what just happened. After they wheeled Marla and newborn Dylan over to an examining room, I ran to the restroom to wash up – that’s when I discovered my purse was missing.

I checked with the nurses and security officers, but no one remembered seeing my purse. A little while one of the nurses came over to tell me that they found it in the examining room with Marla. I must have flung it over the wheel chair when I caught little Dylan.

That night her Dad and I stayed at the hospital until Dr. Mullins showed up and told us that both mother and baby were fine. There were no other babies in the nursery that night, so they let us in to see our new grandson. Then we drove home, too wound up to sleep.

It was a miracle that God was watching over the whole situation and baby Dylan was born perfectly. When we went back to the hospital, Sarah’s uncle brought a big stuffed football to Marla’s room and joked about me going out for a pass. Everyone at the hospital was talking about the baby who was born in the wheel chair and delivered by his grandmother. That was one night I will never forget as long as I live.