Andy Anderson is a former Firefighter & First Responder for Suqualena VFD, Paramedic with Metro Ambulance, former part-time SWAT Medic with DPS backing up MBN & MHP. He currently works as a part-time Deputy with Lauderdale County Sheriff’s Department’s SWAT Team, ER Physician at a Level I Trauma Center, Medical Director for Central Mississippi EMS District, and Medical Director for Hinds CC Paramedic program. He also teaches firearms classes at Boondocks Firearms Training Academy.
Andy AndersonBy Andy Anderson
Childbirth is covered in every phase of EMS training, from Emergency Medical Responder classes to advanced Paramedic education. I’ll never forget a line from my first class: “Newborn infants are very slippery, and dropping them is considered poor form.”
Despite the preparation, no Medic I’ve met ever wanted to deliver a baby in the back of an ambulance. Still, the job doesn’t wait for ideal conditions.
Christine and I were the first dual-Paramedic crew at Metro. We divided responsibilities by alternating roles each shift, but there were exceptions. Violent patients, confined space rescues, and high-angle rescues were always mine. Water rescues (I can’t swim) and OB/Gyn cases were firmly Christine’s.
One day, we were dispatched to a convenience store near city limits. As we approached, we saw firefighters gesturing wildly, waving us in like an airliner. I’ve always found it amusing that firefighters pride themselves on their bravery—unless childbirth is involved.
Inside, a woman in the passenger seat of a car was screaming, “It’s coming! It’s coming!”
I reassured her that while we couldn’t stop the birth, we could at least move her to the ambulance where she’d be more comfortable. A firefighter agreed to drive for us as we prepared to handle the situation.
I entered the ambulance first to sit at the head of the stretcher while Christine followed, beginning her assessment. She told the patient, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to see where we stand.”
The patient screamed, “Get it out NOW!”
What happened next was unforgettable. It felt like a sudden shift in the atmosphere inside the ambulance. When I turned around, Christine looked like she had been slimed in Ghostbusters. Amniotic fluid dripped off her glasses, her face, and even her radio microphone. I grabbed a towel, trying to wipe her face as I silently prayed she wouldn’t get sick—because if she did, I’d have to take over.
To her credit, Christine never missed a beat. She delivered the baby, but the newborn was bradycardic. Without hesitation, we began Pediatric Advanced Life Support (PALS) protocols. By the time we reached the hospital, the OB and Neonatal teams were ready and whisked both patients away.
Years later, during a medical school rotation in Neurosurgery, I encountered a mom and her child during a check-up for his VP shunt. She mentioned that her son had been born in an ambulance. As we talked, I realized this was the very baby Christine had delivered that day. Despite his early struggles and the shunt for hydrocephalus, he was thriving — hitting all his developmental milestones.
This experience reminded me that EMS truly does make a difference. Moments like these, while rare and challenging, show the profound impact we can have on patients’ lives. And while many seasoned medics have similar stories, I feel compelled to preserve mine before time blurs the details.
