Looking back on Thursday December 3rd now, it's a little difficult to remember every detail and even more exhausting trying to describe everything. We went to the hospital that morning, fully not expecting to leave with a baby. In fact, I tell H-man now that even when I was pregnant, the concept of having a child was totally lost on me.
We arrived at the hospital at 7 a.m. and five hours later I was begging for drugs. I have never felt so much pain in my life. I had a rock dropped on my head when I was 10 years old, but I barely felt that. The pain can't really be described. As I was laying there, being hooked up to an iv drip that would soon bring sweet relief, I concentrated on the sensation, attempting to describe to myself what it was like. The closest I think I can come to explaining what the pain was is that it felt as if I was being squeezed around my belly by a large snake and that its fangs were pumping hot acid into my lower back.
The drugs brought fleeting relief, and and hour later, gripping the sides of the bed, voice shaking and tears running down my face I whispered the fatal word I swore I would never utter: "epidural". You see, a natural birth was extremely important to me. In child birthing class we did an exercise where we layed out in flashcards what would be the most important aspects of childbirth, for example: natural tear vs. being cut, cesarean vs. vaginal delivery. The top of my list included no pain medication and for H-man to be with me.
I got the epidural, and I'm glad I did. My pain level was near the top of the scale, a 10, but quickly dropped to a blessed, sweet 0. As the anesthesiologist placed the needle in my spine, my water broke and labor really swung into full gear. Thank God for pain management. I may have asked the anesthesiologist to father my next child. I love that man, he does wonderful things.
Hours later, H-man ran home to get a few things, that very moment a doctor I had never met came in, shook my hand hello, looked at my cervix and broke out the stirrups and three nurses in green wheeled in a "delivery table". As the nurses bickered among themselves on the lay out of the tools on the table, I plead with the doctor to please wait for H-man to come back, "please he will be right back, please!"
"push!" the doctor responded. I began to cry, "no, no, I can't yet, please can we wait!?"
"Push!" he replied, but I wouldn't. Nothing was coming out of me without my husband in the room, goddammit.
Moments later my beautiful, wonderful husband came back, looking quite stricken that I had my feet up in the stirrups and this doctor was telling me to push. I took his hand and then I pushed.
Pushing out our son is the most incredible thing I've ever done. Looking at it now, and reflection of that day I still can't picture myself doing these things but after an hour of pushing, and pooping in front of my husband, a doctor I had just met, and three nurses who I will never remember, our baby was born.
I often read about women giving birth and feeling this rush of love and light flow over them as they see their baby for the first time. In all honesty I felt I would be more like a panda bear that rejects their cub. I was wrong. When they put our son on my chest, all gooey and gross, that wave of warmth and love washed over me. I touched his tiny, slimy body with my fingers and stared at his swirls of dark hair. Incredible.
Our baby was born at 8:46 pm on Decemeber 3rd 2009. Four full weeks early, 5lbs 11 oz and 18 1/4 inches long.
