Cobra Kai

My son is three weeks old.

You read that right. I, have a son. Who is three weeks old.

Three weeks ago, once again, I found myself on an operating table having an emergency surgery.

Three days before that I waddled into the hospital, held up by Charles (Kai’s dad) and made our way to labor and delivery.

Three hours before that I was feeling pretty strange. Kai, who was so active he kicked my ass (well, my insides) all day every day, was uncharacteristically still. 

I figured, maybe it’s because I was more active than usual that day. I had gone shopping, hung out at a bookstore, caught the BART to San Jose, and spent some quality time with a recruit and her mom.

Once home, I took a shower thinking it would take the edge off. But the opposite happened. My uterus started cramping, and I could feel my cervix dilating. I could FEEL it.

“Oh shit” I thought as I carefully stepped out of the shower. “Stay calm” I whispered to myself as another cramp gripped my uterus.

There was blood on my bath towel.

“Don’t panic” I said again as I went to find Chuck in the house to tell him we needed to go to the hospital ASAP.

That was a Monday. 

Once admitted and in my room doctors informed me that I was in labor, and that my cervix was 4-6cm dilated.

“No no no” I began to panic. “I’m only 26 weeks!”

26 weeks. 14 weeks early.

26 weeks ago was May 6, 2021

The NACAC New Life Invitational where I ran 10.9 (twice) was on June 5th, 2021

Four weeks pregnant.

The Olympic Trials were June 18th-27th

Contested the 100 meter dash 6 weeks pregnant.

Tried to make the team in the long jump at 7 weeks pregnant. 

Obviously, I would NOT have even bothered if I knew I was pregnant. 

But I didn’t. I went to Europe from the trials for Norway, and Sweden Diamond league meets.

Two months pregnant.

But all I wanted to do was sleep, eat, sleep, and eat some more.

Once I did learn I was pregnant— nah. Nope. That’s a story for another day…

Not nearly enough weeks later, in the hospital I feel the walls closing in on me. Doctor after doctor is telling us what to expect delivering the baby so early. It was all so scary. But one of them said something that I could cling to. They said, “ideally you’d stay pregnant a little longer while we get the full course of betamethasone to kickstart his lung maturity.”

“Stay pregnant?” My brain was racing. I knew we couldn’t reverse what had already happened but if I could just somehow command my body to hold where we were I could buy Kai some lifesaving time. 

“How does the steroid work for his lungs?” I asked.

“We’ll give you a shot today” he explained. Then ideally another shot in 24 hours, and then 24 more hours after that we consider it the full course and extremely effective. 

Three days I thought. At a minimum I need to stay pregnant for three more days.

They adjusted my hospital bed so that my feet were higher than my head. Hoping gravity would help us stay in a hold pattern.

We did an ultrasound. Kai was chilling, experiencing no distress whatsoever but he was breech…so after all my advocating for a vaginal birth I was going to have a c-section after all. And a classic one at that. Cut up from top to bottom. 

R.I.P. eight pack abs, it was fun while I had em. As frightening as the situation was that thought did actually bubble to the surface. The pregnancy was a surprise, unplanned and coming to terms with not making the team, being pregnant, doing all that work to get my body right and watching it morph into a human incubator was a lot.

Upside down, I did all the breathing, meditating, and visualizing I could. The clock, directly in my line of sight from my bed, would tick away slowly. I’d gotten the first shot in my right butt cheek. And set my mind to making it through the next 24 hours.

If at any time my water broke/the sac ruptured I’d go into surgery. So no food or drink was allowed for me. 

But I did get drugs. And they offered me a narcotic. I looked over to Chuck who was holding my hand. “I don’t want to leave here an addict” I said as I began to cry. My fear was turning into sorrow. Would four years of sobriety go down the drain because of this shit. I didn’t choose this. “You won’t, he whispered. I won’t let you. Take them love, don’t suffer”

We fell asleep holding hands. Me upside down in the hospital bed, him just as uncomfortable on a folding cot.

I was awaken by a nurse in the morning. “YOU’RE STILL PREGNANT!”

I gave her a weak smile. It was 5am and I needed to make it to 11pm.

It felt impossible.

My head and neck were starting to feel the effects of gravity against the headboard. Already migraine prone I felt the shadowy fingers of a headache playing across my temples.

Time passed slowly…5pm…8pm…9.45…11pm.

I made it.

I offered the nurse my left butt cheek, you know keeping things even. Second dose done.

A new countdown…24 more hours. I took a deep breath.

Well I tried to. 

I asked for a sleeping pill, got it and drifted off into a fitful sleep. Chuck on his cot next to me.

I was awaken by a nurse in the morning. “YOU’RE STILL PREGNANT!”

I gave her a weak smile. It was 5am and I needed to make it to 11pm.

Kai needed me to do this for him. I was supposed to hold on to him…I was supposed to protect him and give him 14 more weeks to develop and grow. But here we are and apparently I can’t do that. 

But I can do this. 

My neck and head were killing me. Chuck massaged them for as long as his hands allowed. He then moved to my feet massaged them and grabbed me by the ankles and pulled my entire body toward him. We stacked pillows in the new space between my head and the headboard to cushion my head and give my neck a break.

I tried to thank him but couldn’t really speak. My diaphragm and lungs didn’t seem to be working. Breathing felt like trying to take deep belly yoga breaths while wearing a weighted vest underwater. They checked my lungs for fluid.

“All clear” each nurse told me every time. My breathing got worse, and worse. I took more pain killers hoping it would help the time pass more quickly. 

It didn’t.

Time passed slowly…5pm…8pm…9.45…11pm.

I fucking made it. 

I cried tears of joy and relief. At a minimum he’ll stand a chance at breathing. We had other concerns but that was my main one.

I took my ambien and drifted to sleep. 

I was awaken minutes later by a nurse who had lost Kai’s heart beat. Not because he didn’t have one but because he was running around the womb. 

Every 30 minutes she came in trying to chase down the baby with the Doppler. He was uncomfortable, I was uncomfortable, everybody was uncomfortable.

None of us slept that night.

still pregnant in the morning the doctors and nurses were impressed with my resolve. My strength. 

But Chuck, Chuck saw something they didn’t. I was slipping away. Slowly…but surely.

My body had started to spasm. Legs, arms, back. My breath became more labored my head splitting with a now fully developed migraine .

I couldn’t easily speak.

Chuck slipped out of the room and returned followed by a doctor who said she was going to lay me flat for a bit to give me a break.

Are you sure? I asked. What about the baby?

Right now he is fine, he’s not in distress at all but you are. And we’re monitoring him.

The motor on the bed hummed as they adjusted me back to 180 degrees.

Once flat I took a deep breath And then had the biggest most intense contraction.

Kai’s heart rate dropped.

But slowly recovered, because he’s tough- after all he’s the fastest fetus on the planet and ran two rounds and took six jumps over two days at the Olympic Trials too.

But the doctor who was standing by the bedside at the time said, “that’s it, we’re taking him.”

She said she’d “rather take him now than wait until he was in distress.”

That they could take their time this way. The c section could be transverse. Side to side instead of the classic. Because it wasn’t an emergency that required them to get him out as fast as possible.

I heard her but didn’t. They were rolling me out of the room, speaking quickly among themselves. Patting me on the shoulder, telling me I’d be okay, that the baby would be okay. The NICU doctors said they’d see me in recovery.

I still had Chuck’s hand even as a nurse held him back, I cried out in complete terror. After three days I was finally panicking. Our hands were forced apart, fingers lingering one last time for a split second, as I was rolled out of the room.

 I wasn’t ready. Kai wasn’t ready. None of us were fucking ready.

But something clicked when the warm colors of the labor and delivery room changed to the bright white of the surgical theater.

Ready or not, I was about to meet my son. I took another deep breath as I got the epidural. I lost feeling from the ribs down. And I told another doctor who was wearing an Alabama Crimson Tide scrub cap that I was going to be sick. He slid a pan next to me and said just turn your neck, we’ll clean you off when we’re done.

I may have been about to be laying with my insides open on the table just beyond the drape but no way I was doing THAT, that was gross.

I asked him how loyal he was to his school, because I was a Vol and didn’t want that to be a problem. I cracked a little smile- humor heals, it acts like a balm over open wounds- he laughed and said, “my dad got it for me, I just wear it.”

I turned to face the lights on the ceiling. Chuck is back and grabs my hand. The entire time silent tears rolled down my face…

How much shit does one person have to take I thought?

Why couldn’t I just carry him to term? Why couldn’t I have the baby shower? Or the maternity photo shoot? It wasn’t fair.

Never is. Never has been.

I let out a loud sob and turned to face Chuck, who is rock solid through the worst of times and whispered in a broken voice, “I’m scared Chuck. I’m so scared” and his eyes were red with tears and fear he squeezed my hand tighter and said “me too kid” 

No bullshit, straight up no chaser, just the two of us, in the shit together, as usual.

I found comfort in that. I can feel my body being jostled and cut, and even though it was pain free it was unsettling.

Just minutes later I hear him. My baby boy.

And then I kind of see him through the blurry part of the drape. The leading doctor held him up like she was presenting Simba to Pride Rock and then just like that he was gone.

“Come here dad”. Someone said to Chuck. “Come see your son”.

Chuck, a dad? That’s weird AF.

I can’t help but think all the way back to the early 2000s, hanging out in Chuck’s apartment playing Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, me overdrafting my student bank account to order us Spicy Italian pizza from Papa John’s. He wouldn’t let me “lock him down” because he needed to play the field. 🙄 But we became best friends anyway. Fast Forward nineteen years, a ton of relationships with other people, hookups, boyfriends, and a marriage, we found each other again. Not as broke college kids, but as professionals. Supporting me getting back on my feet figuring my shit out, helping me navigate dating other people post divorce, post trauma, helping me not feel so lost after leaving a coach and training group I didn’t want to leave but needed to, being everything I needed in a friend. Absolutely earning the title as “best”.

Yes, he’ll be a great dad. If how he’s taken care of me all this time is any indication.

A little while later they wheeled Kai to me while I lay still open on the table. I couldn’t see him but a nurse placed my finger on his little hand and I felt him.

And I told him I’m sorry that I couldn’t hold on to him and that he had so much work to do on his own.

Later still, in the NICU, with Kai in his high tech isolette incubator and me in my hospital bed I stared at him wordlessly.

Staring at him, I lost all doubt that my little guy- as early as he was to the world. I had no doubt staring at him that he has what it takes to thrive.

I have never had an easy go of it, neither has Chuck, and now, it should have been no surprise that Kai would start out this way…being tested. But my little man is already a NICU rockstar.

But you know what else he got? My strength. And damn it, we are so fucking hard to kill. 

And often what looks like failure, what looks like the worst thing: is just another opportunity for alchemy. Transforming pain into purpose and purpose into power.

Blogger’s Note: P.S. my parents got to California in less than 24 hours. Gina (Chuck’s mom) was at the hospital within minutes. They took care of us, our home, everything.

Auntie Chris worked with my parents to take care of long neglected projects at home, and Chuck’s sister Lauren bought so much food we had to make several trips to the car when I got discharged. 

And I really want to say thank you to my mother. I don’t even have words for how special that time we spent together was. All the conversations. On the day I was discharged I fell apart at the sliding doors of the hospital, I was leaving without my baby. That wasn’t a part of my plan, it wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to leave him. But had to. Chuck got me to the car…and we drove home. Him talking, me riding silently blankly staring at the highway ahead of us. 

At home, I turned the key in the door and pushed it open. My parents who were upstairs watching tv in our family room jumped up shouting “they’re home!”

I walked to the stairs. And immediately burst into tears. Crying so hard my parents held me still on the stairs. But my mom, my mom said “oh my baby.” And rubbed my hair (which was freshly done by the way after a week of bed head- good job Chuck).

She’s never called me that before. I cannot remember a time when I truly felt like my mom’s baby. Until now, and it healed so much of me. Thanks mom.

Also Cobra Kai is a great show, and no we did not name Kai after the show. It’s just a wonderful coincidence. However, I did binge watch it during the Olympic Trials. So there’s that.