Birthing 101

March 28, 2005. Fifty-five pounds heavier, three days over due, and ankles that were ready to pop, I opened the front door to the building that holds my future in the palm of its hands, and wobbled down the hall. Pressing the buttons on the rattling elevator, I began sweating in agony. I just wanted it to be over, to regain my life, my body, my mind. I just wanted to move on with my life, and get back to being normal. `
When they called my name I couldn't help but wish that they would tell me today would be the day. Of course I knew that it was wishful thinking, but who could blame a girl. After I stood on the scale with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, wondering how someone with a size five figure could almost weigh two hundred pounds after nine months, the midwife rudely asks, "Did the nurse step on the scale with you?" Horrified I let this woman proceed to check my cervix fordilation, and go on about how much weight I've gained and how bloated I am. I then find out that I have toxemia....
Soon the midwife finishes insulting me and asks me if there is any reason I should go home. Not being able to think of anything other than the giant love card I was making for Not As Good, I said. "No." "Then let's have this baby!"
Hearing those words was like every Christmas, birthday, Halloween, first kiss, and bear hugs all in one. Only better. Finally this baby was coming out. All of the fears of child birth I had previously had disappeared, now all I felt was excitement. I couldn't wait to meet my son, I couldn't wait to not Be pregnant, I couldn't wait to start my family with the love of my life.
I registered and waited for Not As Good. Eating my last meal until after birth, I remembered how horrible this was about to be. All I wanted now was to go back ten months and tell myself not to be so stupid. I mean I spent twenty two years not getting pregnant, why was I so ignorant this year? I'm not ready to be a mom. I can't even take care of myself. I am selfish, and I like it. I had no desire to improve myself, I was happy with the person I was, prior to conceiving. I began to realize how bad of an idea it really was for two people who just started adulthood, to have a baby. But it was too late. What could I do about it now... "Would someone please give me a Valium and a sleeping pill"
Of course I couldn't have a Valium, however I could have some cerviadil, to thin out my cervix, and a sleeping pill. Three o'clock in the morning I began to get this weird cramps. I just kept thinking if I could pass gas at least once, my stomach would feel so much better. And enters the nurse. "Looks like you are having some good ones" "Good what?" I replied. "Contractions" The next thing I know I am flipped on my side and getting a shot in my ass... Apparently passing out immediately, I wake up to Not As Good's alarm clock and tell him to go to work. After all the doctor said it would probably be hours before I gave birth. Them again she told me that it was unlikely that i would go into labor on my own, without pitocin, but what did I know, i was just having a baby, she's delivered hundreds.
My mother and father stayed with me, while my contractions grew. Around ten thirty a different, sending my parents away, decided to break my water. With no warning aside from, "you'll feel gushing fluid" I most certainly did feel a gush of fluid, but unaware that it would be so warm it almost burnt. Alarmed I asked if it should feel that way, and of course as they laughed at me under there breathe I was told that everything was alright and asked if I wanted to use the hot tub.
I layed in the hot tub in a hospital gown. Jets blowing against my back and sides. With every growing contraction the sound of voices made me sick to my stomach. Daddy wouldn't come in; thinking he would have to see me naked, but for the first time in my life, I really needed and wanted his support. So with fear in his eyes then relief on his face after discovering I was with apparel, he came in and kept me company with my mom. Contractions came and went, grasping the side rails I decided to beach myself. After all, I was hungry, nauseous, in pain, tired, and now hot. I was ready to go lay down. My parents went outside to have cigarettes, because apparently my labor was stressing them out! Walking down the hall with strong contractions every two minutes took me about a half an hour.
When I finally got to my room, the nurse asked if I wanted something to ease the pain. I was under the impression that this would get worse and last awhile so I said no. But the next thing I remember my head was feeling heavy and I felt like I drank three bottles of whiskey. At first I thought it was cool, but after my next contraction I just wanted to throw up and have someone turn it off.
Eleven o'clock came and the nurses informed me that if I wanted the babies dad to be there for the birth I had better give him a call? What? They told me I had at least twenty four hours, we need that money. But I did as I was told, and soon after began to prep for an epidural.
Ahhh, epidurals. What a heavenly aide. I know that many women out there give birth and never even think of having drugs, but I am no hero, why do it if you don't have to.
The epidural was in and not really knowing what to expect, (I lied and said I read the paper saying what to expect, I knew if I read it I would chicken out) I layed back, and prepared to see my contractions and not feel them... Well, the contraction came, and of course, because this is my life, I felt nothing..... On the left side of my body. On the right I felt everything. I rang for the nurse and asked if that was normal. "No!!! (you moron, she implied)" It wasn't.
I asked why this had happened. It was explained to me that it couldn't have been the anesthesiologists fault, it had to be because my back is crooked, but they would soon correct my mistake! The man with the needle came back in my room to adjust. After pulling it out, he had tore due the hole procedure again. Feeling pretty good due to my stadal, I preceded to hit on the man. I told him he was good looking and asked if he was married, and then glancing to my right, MY man walked int o the room. Too drugged up to feel embarrassed I told Not As Good I was hitting on the anesthesiologists, he smiled and laughed nervously. (I don't think he believed me)
Everyone, my mom, my dad, my mom's friend, and my sister came back into the room.The nurse checked my cervix and told me I wasdilated to a six.Completely exhausted I looked up at my mommy and smiled. Closing my eyes I drifted into what would be the last peaceful moment of my life, for years to come. Twenty minutes later at about 2:45 p.m. I woke up. I felt this weird urge... Not exactly and urge, but like my vagina was already working to get this baby out, without my knowledge or permission. I called for the nurse and she came in, unwilling to believe that I was already at a ten when twenty minutes ago I was a six.
As nurse Sharon's head peaked up,from out of my legs, I gasped noticing the blood on her hands. I was indeed a ten, well technically a 9.75. I was informed that if I tried to push now I would be there for hours, so to hang tight and the midwife would be sure to come. As the nurse started to leave I began to ring the bell. This baby was coming with or without their help, and I didn't seem to have any control over it. They got the room ready immediately and the midwife showed up.
The next twenty minutes were a blurr. I remember them telling me to push and as I would push everyone kept saying, "That's it. That's it" Leaving me with the impression that I got the enormous head that felt like it was going to tear me apart out of my vaginal walls. That was not the case. Upon hearing the news that I wasn't even close to finished, I yelled, "Then everyone needs to shut the fuck up!" Then Not As Good did it. He rubbed the leg he was holding at my head, with his thumb. I though his touch was going to make me vomit. I looked at him with red eyes and a green face, "Don't touch me" Searching for the barf bucket, my retarded baby's dad moved again, he dropped my leg, and all I heard was my mother's very powerful voice, yell sternly, "pick up her leg you retard." (Poor Not As Good didn't have a chance)
As I finally pushed the last few pushes, and yelling, "Get this baby out of me NOW" He plopped right out. Not As Good looked down and said, "Oh my God" He was here. Our baby boy.
Here's the part where every mother says things like, "They put my amazing gift on my belly and I cried with joy. My heart was immediately filled with love as I looked at my beautiful baby boy. From that moment I felt an internal instinct and loved him so much" Well I am not every mother. That just wasn't the case for me. They put my baby on my belly all wrinkled and covered in mung. His eyes were huge and wide open and they were as black as night. His nose was swollen and crooked, It looked huge. He was purple and had virtually no fat on his entire body. He was not beautiful and I did not feel a connection. I did cry but I was glad it was over. I will say that I loved him, I just wasn't connected.
They took him away and told I could see him after I get to my room. After kicking everyone out, I got cleaned up. I took a shower and put on my "after birth" diaper, and went to my room. My legs were swollen, my cankles were sore, and my feet were so big that my once slender long toes, looked like little fat sausages. The pediatrician came intothe room were me and our family were waiting to see the new life that scared the crap out of me, and told us that we couldn't see him, because he had to be on oxygen, due to extra fluid in his lungs. But the father and the grandparents could go see him. I had to wait for the epidural to be taken out of my back before I could go anywhere!
The next three days were long. I wanted my baby, but appreciated the rest I was getting. When I finally got to hold Sweet Face I cried. I felt so many emotions.. I felt scared, nervous, I didn't even know this kid, but was supposed to feel connected. And so the guilt began.
I later found out that I had a severe case of post partum depression. And a month or two later I began to adore Sweet Face. But it was a rough couple before I did... And that note I will leave with the understanding that I still adore Sweet Face, he's my light. My once in a lifetime. I feel soconnected now. And I will write about my fight against the post partum depression, but I would like to leave this as his birth and nothing more!