Levedy

Chris' Labor Story, Part 3

My labor spinal only lasted an hour. It was a blissful hour, but too early in the process. That is SO like me: always the awkward early guest at a party. Helpful, but always too early and always ready to leave before anyone else. Sigh.

The pain quickly resumes. Nurse Denise asks me if I’m feeling pressure or pain, but she looks at my hand inching toward the rail of the bed again to grab it and doesn’t need a response. Her tone changes to emphasize how fast his will go, don’t worry, as soon as we break your water this little guy’s going to practically fall out, just breathe, everything will be fast, don’t worry. Just breathe, Jen.

Oh no, the back of my mind thinks. She’s preparing me for something VERY BAD. This will not be fun. This is going to be OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW! Where’s that anesthesiologist? I want to ask him if I’m aiming at the left , right, or center of his sack before I kick it.

They say that time warps in time of stress. Time can slow to a crawl in emergencies, making everything seem to run in slow motion long enough for you to see the true extent of the danger at hand and adjust your reaction accordingly. That didn’t happen to me. Things sped up. People moved more quickly, as if someone set the movie projector reel one speed too fast. In retrospect, I’m glad for this. Slow motion childbirth would have sucked way worse. The realization that I was going to have a natural childbirth whether I had wanted one or not (to which I can clearly assert that I DID NOT) didn’t dawn on me, as people so poetically put. The realization didn’t dawn on me; it hit me like a Mack truck.

The nurse broke my water right before the doctor breezed into the room. She checked me, confirmed that I was completely dilated, and told me to push with the next contraction.

Oh, boy. Here we go.

I’m told that I was only pushing for 18 minutes. I’m told that it took two contractions to get the head out and one for the rest of him. I’ll have to take Dim’s word on that, because, believe it or not, I was a little too busy to watch the clock. I pushed like I pushed with Bean, but with Bean I did not have the overwhelming urge to scream like a banshee. There was so much screaming. It seemed like the best course of action, what with my VAGINA TURNING INSIDE OUT and all, but the nurses insisted on my stopping. Dimitri was probably telling me to calm down and breathe, but I was in my own little world. There was me, and there was the pain, and that was it. There was no husband next to me trying to calm me (he was there of course, but I couldn’t tell.) I couldn’t hear anything but my own screams and the instructions of Denise, who had the good sense to get within two inches of my nose, look me dead in the eye, and tell me to shut up and push.

And then the sound bubble popped. I could hear everything. Denise was convincing me that yelling prevented pushing, and pushing was what was going to get me through this. The doctor was telling me to get mad and PUUUUUUSSSSHH! Another nurse was staring at the monitor, trying to determine if I was in a contraction or no. Denise pushed her out of the way with her hips as she helped me keep my legs pushed back. The nurse started to protest, but Denise said “She knows when she’s having one, don’t worry.”

And then I clenched my teeth, shut my mouth, and pushed with everything I had. I felt my body respond, sluggishly at first, but then faster. I felt the head come. Yes, there was burning, the “ring of fire” as all the hippy midwives call it, but this kid was coming OUT, and I wasn't going to stop to enjoy the moment. And then there was a small release, and the head was out. I waited for the doctor to suction his nose and mouth, and pushed again. Again, I felt my body contort to accommodate the rest of him passing out of me. It was pretty amazing, truth be told.

And then there he was, pink and screaming like I had been moments ago. They mopped him up a bit and set him on me. I started sobbing. Big, torso-shaking sobs that I hadn’t had since junior high when life was so unfair and all I could do was cry my heart out. But this was different. This was my child, and rather than the bewilderment of inexperience that I felt after Sophie was born, I could only think of how much I loved her and how lucky I was as a woman and as a human being to experience this joy again. The anticipation of it made me cry giant, snotty tears of happiness. Dim went to the warming table to cut the cord and take pictures, and I lay on the table, alternately sobbing and laughing.

Meanwhile, the doctor cleaned house in Ladytown, so to speak, and then hugged me and apologized over and over for it hurting so much. Nurse Denise patted me on the shoulder and congratulated me. I did it! I am woman, hear me roar! I asked to see the placenta, since I didn’t get to see the last one. It was about what you’d expect – a slimy alliance between a Portuguese man-of-war and a small intestine. I nursed him for about half of an hour, and then they took him to the nursery for bathing and shots and such. I lay alone in the labor room for a while, totally star struck.

After an hour or so, I walked from the labor ward to the post-partum ward. Nurse Denise kept asking me if I needed a wheelchair or her shoulder to lean on or anything, but I kept telling her that I was fine. And I was. I felt amazing. I wasn’t about to run a marathon, but I could walk and joke and ask where a girl could get a cheeseburger.

Dim wheeled the baby into the room. Here he was, my little Christopher. Christopher George, named after his two grandfathers. I imagine he will learn kindness from one and Texas Hold ‘Em from the other. He weighed in at 7 pounds, 9 ounces, a little more than a pound heavier than his sister. So now we’re a family of four, and, although I haven’t slept and am dealing with serious jealousy issues, not just from his big sister, but from the cat as well, I couldn’t be happier.

I don’t know if this is the size that our family will stay, or if it will get bigger in the future, but I can say that it feels really good to have another one here beside us. There’s another man in my life now, and even though he has a habit of peeing on me, I think I’m in love.

Posted by Jen at March 13, 2008 4:22 PM