The Coming of Larkin:
Or We Fought the Medical Establishment and … Well … We Got a Baby
Larkin Irene Skotte came into the world at 1:15 a.m. on Tuesday, July 18. It was not an easy journey.
Molly’s water broke the evening of Sunday, July 16. She was trying to finish up one last work project before giving birth. We gathered up our “go bag,” called our friends who agreed to watch our dog Falco, and headed to the hospital.
Because Molly tested positive for GBS, we knew we needed to get her antibiotics from the hospital. We assumed that because Molly wasn’t yet in active labor, we would see a doctor, get our antibiotics, and head home until Molly’s contractions were more active. This was our first mistaken assumption.
Molly planned on giving birth at the new birthing center, an area within the labor and delivery unit at NY Presbyterian hospital which promises a more natural birthing experience, with intermittent fetal monitoring, lots of space for moving around, low warm lighting, private bath tubs, and nurses who are trained to let birth take its course. The birth center is designed for low-risk pregnancies, and we had to take special trainings and ensure Molly was very healthy in order to qualify to give birth there. We were given a list of reasons why a woman wouldn’t be allowed to have a baby in the birthing center, and we were confident that none of them applied to us.
We arrived at the hospital (after a truly zany cab ride … but that’s another story) around 10:00 pm on Sunday. We were directed to the labor triage area, a series of beds separated by curtains overrun with hospital smells, scary-looking machines, and people scurrying around. They hooked Molly up to a blood pressure monitor and to a fetal monitor. They took her temperature and drew her blood. It felt institutional and impersonal; not at all like the birthing experience we had envisioned. But again, we thought we would soon get some antibiotics and be sent on our way.
Unfortunately, Molly’s blood pressure came back high. The nurse didn’t tell us that it was a problem, and we were so excited and nervous that we didn’t think to ask. The nurse left and we were alone under the harsh fluorescent lights of the triage area. Eventually our midwife was called. She explained to us that Molly’s blood pressure was high enough for them to have concerns of preeclampsia. That meant that not only would we be “risked out” of the birthing center, but she’d also need to be admitted right away.
We were moved to a room in the labor and delivery unit around midnight on Sunday night/Monday morning. It wasn’t as nice as the birthing center. But it was large and private. There was a couch for me to sleep and the staff brought me sheets and pillows. “We can make this work,” we thought. The nurses told us to get some rest and that the next midwife on duty would be in at 6:00 am. I slept for about an hour. Molly didn’t get any sleep at all.
The next morning our amazing doula Aimee arrived and Chris, Molly’s mother, continued her drive from Ohio. Molly was having irregular contractions. The midwife saw us and told us that she wanted us to get to a place where Molly was having contractions that lasted for a minute and that came every three minutes. I did my best to support Molly while she was having contractions and to keep her spirits up between contractions. Because of Molly’s blood pressure, Molly and the baby were being continuously monitored for blood pressure and heart rate. This meant that Molly was wired up to a series of computers and couldn’t move more than a couple feet in any direction. She felt like a caged beast.
Over the next few hours Molly experienced irregular contractions. Chris — who had initially feared the baby would be born before she got there — arrived at around 1:30 pm on Monday. We were content to let the birth take its time as long as both the mother and the baby were healthy. We saw no reason to introduce interventions that would speed up the birth. But as Molly’s blood pressure continued to rise — 170/120 was the highest I remember seeing — the medical staff became concerned, especially because Molly’s water broke 17 hours earlier, increasing the chances of a dangerous infection.
The midwife encouraged us to give Molly pitocin, a synthetic version of oxytocin, the hormone that stimulates labor. We were against this for a number of reasons: pitocin has been linked to some complications in labor, but it also meant that Molly would be tethered to yet another device (pitocin is delivered intravenously), and we were concerned about the cascading nature of interventions — once one intervention happens it’s easier for doctors to make the case for others.
We managed to convince the medical staff to delay pitocin while we tried other home remedies to speed up labor. But after a few hours of those, we decided to take the midwife’s advice and introduce pitocin. At 3:30 in the afternoon they added the IV. We were getting further and further from our vision of a natural birth. But at that point we really just wanted to have our baby.
With the pitocin dripping through Molly’s body, the contractions started coming more frequently, but they were still irregular. Around 7:00 the midwife did a cervical exam and found that Molly was seven centimeters dilated. She still had a ways to go (10 centimeters is considered fully dilated), but she was getting closer.
Finally around 10:00 Molly was fully dilated and the contractions were regular enough for Molly to start pushing. Molly and I assumed that it’d take just a few pushes to get baby out. We were wrong on this score as well.
By the time midnight rolled around, Molly was exhausted. She had been pushing for two hours, and hadn’t had any sleep for over 40 hours. She tried at least four different birthing positions. But none of them seemed to work well. And with each new position, the pressure on Molly’s body shifted, causing her more pain. Morale was starting to slip, and we wondered if we would ever see our daughter.
Finally, the midwife let us know that she was going to have to bring in the attending physician. Molly had been laboring for too long and her blood pressure was too high.
Dr. Jew (yes that’s his real name) arrived about 20 minutes later. The midwife briefed him on the situation. He explained to us that we had two options: he could use the vacuum to suck the baby out while Molly pushed, or we could have a C-section. Molly was ready to just have the C-section. We were so exhausted and had traveled so far from our initial birth plan that it seemed like the logical next step. But then Molly had a contraction and Dr. Jew was encouraged by how close the baby was to being born. He convinced us to have one more push with the vacuum. And then, miraculously, baby Larkin was born!
The mood in the room changed completely. I was bawling my eyes out. Chris and Aimee were shouting and laughing. Molly was jubilant (or as jubilant as someone who had just endured 30 hours of labor can be). Larkin was quickly checked by a pediatrician and then brought back to Molly for skin-on-skin contact. We had a couple of hours in the delivery room with Larkin before we had to move into the postpartum unit. We really thought Molly’s struggles were over and that she’d be able to get some rest. Again, how wrong we were.
Molly was wheeled to a shared post-partum room. Almost immediately after she was put in her bed she began writhing in pain. It was indescribably difficult to watch my beautiful, strong wife feeling so miserable after what she had just experienced. I managed to get the nurses to give her some narcotic pain pills but there was some confusion in the order and it took precious minutes for them to make their way to Molly. In the meantime, she was straining against herself, trying to get comfortable in any way possible. Finally the midwife arrived and explained that Molly had just had a difficult birth and that all of the endorphins were wearing off so she was now feeling all of the pain that her mind had been blocking.
It seemed a reasonable explanation. And once Molly had the pain pills and started listening to a podcast, she did seem more relaxed.
Chris and I took the opportunity to head back to Molly’s and my apartment in Brooklyn to try and get some rest.
An hour later, Chris got a text from Molly’s phone. Molly had handed the phone off to the midwife as Molly was being wheeled into emergency surgery. Chris called the midwife and found out that Molly was suffering from internal bleeding which manifested as a vaginal hematoma.
Apparently, two hours after we left Molly yelled into the hallway that she was in pain. The head of the labor and delivery unit and the head of the midwife program were passing nearby. They examined her and were dismayed by the swelling in her vulva. They gathered a team and raced her into the operating theatre.
Chris and I had only slept about an hour each when we got word that Molly was heading into surgery. We quickly dressed, called a cab, and headed back to the hospital (working our way against rush hour traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge). That car ride was the single scariest moment of my life.
We got to the hospital and — after a few minutes asking around — found out that Molly was on the sixth floor. We took the elevators up and waited in the waiting room. Chris sat while I paced. The midwife arrived and explained that Molly had made it out of surgery. They repaired the bleeding and drained the hematoma. She was going to be okay! Chris and I both broke down with tears of joy. The midwife led me to the nursery to see Larkin and took Chris to the recovery room to see Molly.
After checking on Larkin, I made my way to the recovery room. Molly was a bit doped up — she asked at least three times where her phone was — but she was smiling and doing fine. She required two transfusions of blood and the doctor said he wished he could’ve taken a picture of her swelling to show his students just how bad it can get.
Describing it as an “emotional roller coaster” doesn’t do justice to what we experienced over those few days. We felt higher than the stars when we first met Larkin. We grieved for what could have been when we weren’t able to have the birth we wanted. And there’s no word for the terror I felt when I thought I might lose Molly.
But in the end, Molly is doing fine. And we’re blessed with li’l baby Larkin, the most perfect baby the world has ever seen.

