The Day Jane Was Born

Many people have asked about what happened the day Jane was born and the circumstances surrounding her arrival. The following is the story of that night. It's pretty long for a blog post, but likely worth it for many of you.

The Sudden Arrival

The Birth of Jane Ethlene Mangum

by Adam J. Mangum

In order for this story to make any sense at all and for the emotions to be more palpable, I need to take you back five years. In June of 2005, I had just graduated from the MBA program at Purdue University and started a job with Purdue in the MBA admissions office. Kathleen had just completed a year of teaching at Jefferson High School in Lafayette, Indiana, and was planning on staying at home with our unborn child. She was 23 weeks pregnant.

Adam Lee Mangum was stillborn on June 18, 2005, in Lafayette, Indiana, and laid to rest several days later. It was the most devastating experience of our young marriage, and likely our lives. After trying for more than three years to get pregnant, we did, and then we lost our son before being able to at least hold him in our arms.

Two more children were born healthily after that, Lena in August of 2006 and Clare in January of 2009. But because of that first pregnancy, Kathleen was deemed high risk, and her doctor watched all of her subsequent pregnancies very carefully.

Kathleen’s fourth pregnancy was going well. The ultrasounds revealed a healthy baby girl. There were some things they were watching out for (including rapid blood flow through the umbilical cord), but overall it looked like Kathleen would be induced on Sept. 7, several weeks before her Sept. 24 due date.

Saturday, July 17, was a normal day. We did a lot of yard work. I mowed the lawn while Kathleen weeded and put down some mulch on the side of our house. Lena and Clare played in the yard as we worked. We went to store that day. Kathleen felt good. The first trimester had been pretty brutal for her physically, and she was enjoying the relative healthy, energetic feeling of being 30-weeks pregnant.

What she didn’t feel was the baby. Her doctor had instructed her to do kick counts throughout the day, especially on days when the baby was less active. Kathleen couldn’t remember feeling the baby move that day (though we had been busy), so she laid down while I was playing with the girls to try and focus on the unborn child; she still couldn't feel anything.

Kathleen had been instructed to call the doctor, but was anxious about doing so. She came into the kitchen, and I could see the worry and pain on her face. I’m sure memories of Little Adam were resurfacing. “What should she do?” she asked. “Call the nurse,” I said. The nurse told her to come in to get checked.

Kathleen headed to the hospital, and I put the girls to bed and plopped myself in front of the TV to watch baseball. Kathleen’s experience at the hospital was typical. They did several tests, but these were tests she had done before, and at first nothing seemed that out of place. The baby’s heart rate and other vitals were normal. For the first few minutes of testing, Kathleen thought she’d be coming home and felt dumb about causing all this trouble.

I was just watching baseball. I figured she’d have the test, the baby would check out, and Kathleen would be home in time for a reasonable bed time. Yes, her doctor had mentioned that she would ‘bring the baby out early’ if there were signs of trouble. But she had said the same thing during Kathleen’s pregnancy with Clare, and she reached her induction date. I was banking on history repeating itself.

The tests started heading south. The blood flow through the umbilical cord was getting even faster, and this worried them. If it gets too fast, it can reverse itself, which endangers the baby and mother. And during the ultrasound, the baby did not move at all. There were too many warning signs, so her doctor (who was on-call that night and luckily was there) made the call: we’re bringing the baby out.

I received the first phone call from Kathleen. She was clearly shaken, but handling it very well. “They’re bringing the baby out,” she told me. I was shocked. What? Tonight? Now? After I got off the phone, I started to scramble. During the two hours since she left, I could have packed a bag, arranged someone to watch the kids, prayed. But I had watched baseball. What did I need to bring? Who should I call to watch the girls? Was I going to miss my daughter’s birth?

After what seemed like a panic-filled 15 minutes (but was probably only a few moments), I regained my composure and called our friend Linda Bacon to come watch the girls. She said she would be right over. Before I could get anything else done, Kathleen called again. “They’re doing an emergency c-section,” she said. “You need to come right now.”

I hung up the phone and lost it. Now the haunting memories of losing Little Adam were rising in my mind, choking out rational thought and action. My sweet Kathleen was about to have emergency surgery, and my precious unborn girl was potentially clinging to life. It was several minutes before I was able to free my body of its icy dread and sorrow in order to even move again.

I started with a bag for Kathleen, which would end up being one of the most incomplete bags packed be a father for his wife ever, especially an 'experienced' dad like me. I did get a pillow and some reading material, but I forgot her contact case and glasses, and many other essentials.

I drove quickly to the hospital and rushed through the emergency room, up to the third floor. I had been to the birthing area of Theda Clark several times before as both Lena and Clare were born there. They knew I was coming, and so they rushed me in. As I was headed to the room, the nurse starting talking to me, but I heard nothing. She was talking about washing, preemies, something else. I just wanted to see Kathleen.

As we crossed into the surgical area, a small bed was being wheeled out. It was my tiny little daughter, Jane Ethlene, born at a mere 2 pounds and 13 ounces. I met her NICU doctor, and he said she was doing great. Her lungs were clear, her heart seemed healthy. She was being taken to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for tests and observation. I didn't realize at the time that I'd be spending much of the next 5 weeks of my life in the NICU.

After washing, I went in and saw Kathleen. At the birth of each of our four children, I can't really express how proud I was of her. She was doing great. Tired, still in shock, but happy to know Jane had arrived safely.

The rest of the night is a blur. I visited the NICU and found out Jane was doing great. I spent time with Kathleen and got her situated in her room. I had to return home to get all the stuff I forgot, and when I returned Kathleen was soundly asleep. I paid another quick visit to Jane, and then went home.

It was almost 2am by the time I got back and let a sleepy Linda go back home. Kathleen left for the hospital at 7. Jane was born around 9. And I was now sitting here, adrenaline starting to wear off, hoping for some sleep. What a night. Disbelief. Fear. Joy. Love. All packed in one, 6-hour night.