FaceTime birth brings military dad to tears

It’s 9:50 a.m. on December 1 with brisk winds blowing outside. Jessica Goodwin of Andrews, South Carolina, is anxious as she lies on an operating table in labor and delivery awaiting her cesarean section.

Her mother, Janet Smith, comes into the OR with her scrubs on, carrying her smartphone and a battery pack. She does a FaceTime call with her son-in-law, Air Force Sgt. Chris Goodwin, and puts his face next to Jessica, who has been prepped for surgery.

The tension in Jessica’s face visibly melts as she sees her husband. She smiles. “Are you excited?”

“Yes, are you?” he asks thousands of miles away at his post in the Middle East where it is night for him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m just ready. He’s coming. They move quick,” she says, smiling.

When the Goodwins asked their obstetrician, David Soper, M.D., if they could FaceTime the birth of their second son, Jamison Maddox, he agreed. It’s the first birth at the Children’s Hospital at the Medical University of South Carolina where the father has watched via technology.

Soper, who has hundreds of births under his belt, says the experience never loses its wonder for him. If there’s a way the father can be part of that, he will work to make it happen.

Jessica, 29, keeps focused on her husband’s face as the C-section proceeds. “Maddox doesn’t know what’s happening,” she says. “It’s like eviction day.”

She grimaces, and Chris asks if she’s OK. “It just feels funny. I’m waiting to hear him cry.” Chris and Jessica hold each other’s gaze. She asks how he’s doing and then remembers it’s a special day for him, as well. “It’s your birthday, too. Happy Birthday. I’m not sure I’ll ever top this gift.”

They laugh, but then a nurse interrupts their moment: “We’re getting closer to getting the baby.”

“You ready?” Chris asks. Jessica grimaces, feeling a lot of pressure. A cry breaks the silence in the operating room, followed by relieved laughter. Soper holds up a healthy 8-pound, 2-ounce baby above the surgical drape, the big smile covered by his surgical mask showing up in his eyes.

Her mother gasps in surprise. “He’s a big baby!”

It’s a new experience for the Goodwins. Their first child was premature, weighing just over 2 pounds. Soper didn’t think Jessica would make it to 28 weeks when she was pregnant with her first son, Coleson. Soper helped coordinate with the Red Cross to get Chris back home, something that can be done if the chance for loss of life is greater than 50 percent. Soper got on the phone with Red Cross on Thanksgiving morning in 2013, and Chris was on a plane home within 24 hours.

Coleson was born on December 13 at 25 weeks and ended up having to spend 84 days in the hospital. Jessica says Chris was her rock during that period, and she had no idea how she would have gotten through such a difficult time if Soper hadn’t worked so hard to get him home. That’s why they figured Soper would be open to letting them FaceTime this birth.

Jessica looks at her husband as he sees his son for the first time. “Are you crying?” she asks, smiling. They talk about how his 3-year-old brother is going to respond and who he looks like in the family. Then the neonatal team whisks the baby away to clean him up and check his vitals. His grandmother, Smith, follows with her cellphone in tow. Chris watches as the neonatal team takes footprints and the baby pees on one of the nurses.

“It’s a boy trick,” Kimberly Lee, M.D., jokes, as Chris’ laugh sounds through the phone. “They do that.”

Price Ward, M.D., who’s tirelessly holding up the cellphone so Chris can see all the action, offers to turn up the phone volume so Chris can have a man-to-man chat with his son, who’s squalling. “You tell us how you feel,” his father says. “That’s right, boy. Let them know you’re here.”

Tracey Driggers, RN, discovers that pressure on the baby’s head helps quiet Maddox, who is struggling to open his eyes. Dad and son have a moment. “I’m just speechless,” Chris says.

Driggers gets the baby bundled up to go back and see mom. “He’s a good looking kid,” she coos, “and you can’t say that about everybody.” The team members tell Chris, ‘Happy Birthday’ as they head back to the OR, where Jessica is in recovery.

“And thank you for your service,” Driggers says, the moment becoming emotional. “Thank you so, so much. We appreciate what you do.”

Back in the OR, Chris and Jessica gaze at the tightly bundled Maddox and share relieved laughter. He says being able to be there via technology makes it so much easier to serve and do what he has to do being in the military. “It’s indescribable. I don’t know what I would do without being over there in some kind of way,” he says, admitting that he shed tears during several moments of the birth.

“Of course, I cried. I’m trying to hold it back now just talking about it. If you don’t cry at the birth of your son, then something’s wrong with you.”

For Jessica, it was so comforting to have him there, even if it was just via phone. She and her husband have known each other all of their lives. Their mothers worked together. Jessica and Chris married in 2005, and they communicate as much as they can despite the distance. Coleson tries to FaceTime his dad every day. She appreciates the fact that MUSC staff worked so hard to make him part of the birth experience.

Jessica says Chris is the kind of guy who deserves it. He likes to take care of others. He even changed hard-to-reach light bulbs before he left so she wouldn’t have to.

“Chris is the kindest person I know, and he would do just about anything for anyone. He is everyone’s ‘go-to’ person, if that makes sense. If you need something done, he's the person to ask. He will always find a way to help people, but he always puts his family first.”

There are some moments that are not to be missed, and this was definitely one of them. Jessica says parenthood has changed both of them.

“The little moments are now the big moments. The best way to explain it is that I've now learned how to live with my heart outside of my chest.”