I knew I had to go to sleep. I had a doctor’s appointment in the morning to figure out just why my little boy had decided to stay inside for 41 weeks. But it was the night of the Redskins-Cowboys game, and Chad was glued to the TV. So I stayed up late arguing with him. What were we arguing about? It was really important then, but somehow now I don’t remember.
I fell into a deep sleep before the game was over.
All of a sudden, in the midst of my slumber, I felt an internal POP and awoke to warm water flowing between my legs. I looked at the clock. It was 5:45am.
“Chad…” I said to my heavy sleeper, “Chad. Wake up. I think my water broke.”
My body is already welling with anxiety and elation and relief.
He mumbles, “Five more minutes,” and rolls over.
I tug on his shoulder, “If you wait five more minutes you will be swimming. Wake up, call the doctor, I have to get in the shower.”
So Chad gets (jumps) up and throws our wet sheets into an ungracious pile next to our washer and dryer, and I vainly jump in the shower. I will NOT show up at the hospital to labor with prickly legs, I tell myself. Also, I need to touch up my toenail polish.
I remember clearly being in the shower, struggling to bend to shave my legs, and feeling those first uncomfortable pulls, the beginnings of contractions. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost didn’t realize Chad with his head and hand (that clutched the telephone) halfway in the shower.
“It’s the doctor. He wants to talk to you.”
I have a short conversation with Dr. Montgomery, in which I tell him that my water broke and I am starting to feel small contractions, and he suggests that we go to the hospital. So I quickly hang up, get out of the shower, dress in comfortable clothes, blow-dry my hair (ah, the vanity), do a final check of the hospital bag, and we walk out the door. I took one final look around as we left and thought, this is it, it’s not just us anymore.
We got to the hospital and I was admitted at 7am. I remember walking in the doors with an undeniable smile on my face, not scared, just ready. I was so ready to meet him. A security guard took one look at me and said, “I bet I know where you’re headed. Good luck, ma’am.”
I got into my room and the nurse insisted on testing to make sure the fluid I was leaking was amniotic fluid. I wanted to tell her that I knew my own body, that I was pretty sure, but I let her confirm what I already knew. She walked out of the room. I looked at Chad. He told me we were two hours in. At that moment, time meant absolutely nothing to me. I was so focused on my body and the movements it was making and the feelings I was feeling, I could think of little else.
The nurses switched shifts. A new nurse came in. My contractions were starting to get uncomfortable. She told me to go for a walk. I tried to walk, I really did. I made it half a lap around the maternity ward and then I had to rest up against a wall.
My mother-in-law got there. It was the last day of her vacation. She told me, “I just knew he would come before I had to go back to work. He wanted to see his Mimi.”
I finally saw the doctor for the first time. She did a short (painful) exam and told me that I was barely dilated.
My nurse came back in to check on me. “Want to try something?” she asked me. I told her I would try anything. We tried the birthing ball. Extremely painful. Which is a shame because I really wanted to use it. I had heard of friends who went from 1 – 10 centimeters in an hour because of the birthing ball. I was all. about. The birthing ball. But I couldn’t do it. I just sat. The nurse said to move my hips in a circle. I tried. I thought I was circling. I wasn’t. So she massaged my lower back and pushed my hips in circles while I moaned in pain. This wasn’t working.
“Want to try the tub?” You bet I did. But the tub was broken. And I was broken up. This was the first time that I cried. It was hour six. (Turns out, she called maintenance, so a poor unassuming maintenance man had to listen to me labor while he fixed my tub. But God bless that maintenance man, he got my tub to work!).
Finally, the tub. It was warm and swirling. I was starting to feel more and more pain. The nurse brought me something and injected it into my IV. I immediately felt more calm. I was just starting to relax. Chad brought in the birthing ball and sat by my side and held my hand. Then a strong contraction hit. He couldn’t stand to see me in that much pain. He leaned over and threw up. I found myself more concerned about him than myself, and for a moment almost forgot I was in labor.
I sat a while longer. My mom got there. She was glowing with nerves and happiness. It was the first time in my whole pregnancy that she really looked happy. The way she looked at me said It’s time. He’s almost here. He wants to come and see his Nana.
I got out of the bath, anxious to see how much I had progressed. The doctor came in to check me. 3 centimeters. Bummer. She says she will be back in a little while, that she’s going to let me try to dilate a little more before we talk about an epidural. So I labor. And I labor. And I get up and try to walk, even though it hurts. I try the ball again. I stretch and lay my upper body across the bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure that keeps building in my back. After two more hours, she comes back. She said we were going to go ahead and do the epidural, even though I hadn’t dilated any further. This was a bad sign, I just knew it. It was hour nine.
The epidural was, to say the least, amazing. I knew I had a huge baby inside me making my whole body pulse and shake, and within minutes of that long tube going inside my back, I could feel nothing. Looking back, that is terrifying. In that moment, it was bliss. I asked the nurse for a club soda and promptly fell asleep. (I slept through hours 10 and 11)
When I finally woke, it was late afternoon. Miss Teri, my second mom, and her husband had arrived while I was sleeping. Everyone was in the waiting room eating steak and cheeses. I tried to eat some Jell-O. I promptly threw it up. I waited anxiously for my next check-up. 5 centimeters. Bummer.
There were now 10 people in my room. It was almost like a small party. Everyone was so excited, and you could feel the nervous energy in the room. That’s when the hot spots hit. I called the nurse because all of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain at the bottom of my (huge) belly. She told me I shouldn’t feel anything there. She called the anesthesiologist.
The anesthesiologist, in thickly framed glasses and tube socks, rushed in and began poking at my belly. “Can you feel this? What about this? How about here?” Every time I answered, he would shake his head, and look down and scribble something on his pad of paper. Then as suddenly as he came he left, and then reappeared with a syringe full of something he promised would make me feel much better. His bedside manner was… lacking. But his drugs sure were good. It was hour 16.
From there the pain just got stronger, and the contractions just got worse. Miss Teri sat next to me and told me stories and held my hand and warned me when contractions were coming, for what seemed like hours. She brushed my sweaty hair off my face and whispered what a wonderful blessing this baby was going to be. She told me how much she loved me and how she knew I could be strong. For a while, in the midst of the most pain I’ve ever known, I was in a strange place of complete peace and quiet, even though the party raged on around me. Chad was glued to the football game – the only double header of the season. He checked on me at commercials.
The nurses switched shifts again at 11pm, and so did the doctors. I was praying the next doctor who came in wouldn’t be the peppy, cheerleader OB that I had decided was not the one for me early on in my pregnancy. And wouldn’t you know it, guess who bounced in at hour 19? She told me I needed to be prepared for the fact that, since I had been in labor for so long, that this baby might just not come out naturally. She said we would give it another hour and then talk about a C-section.
Well that was just not happening. I had a talk with my little boy, and God. I know you will come when it is right, and I know You know what you are doing. Please please please…
One hour later, we were at 10 centimeters. The nurses taught me how to push. Breathe in, then push for 10 full seconds and don’t give up. I made great progress. I was a woman on a mission. I wanted to hold him so badly.
I pushed and rested (but mostly pushed) for the next 40 minutes, with Chad on one side and my mom on the other. Finally they said I was close. The nurse ran to get the doctor. She came in with no time to spare. I wish I could say more about the very end of labor, but I was so supremely focused and full of birthing energy that I honestly don’t remember. All I do recall is hearing my mother-in-law say, “Oh my goodness,” in awe and feeling a hot, searing pain. I yelled, “That hurts like you can’t even imagine, you have to get it out.”
And seconds later, I saw him. He was purple and puffy and beautiful. They placed him on my chest and my eyes welled up with tears, as they are welling up now just remembering how emotional that moment was. I felt him breathe. I counted his fingers and toes. I kissed his head a thousand times. It was hour 21, and my miracle was here. 9 pounds and 7 ounces of love and joy. My amazing love, my whole life, my Parker James.
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