We needed to celebrate. My prenatal visit went very well: still a healthy boy waiting to come into the world. There's no sign of dropping, so we were in it for the next two weeks or more. From what the doctor could feel, his head was still in proper position. Just the torture of waiting needed to resume.
Well, I came home and made dinner. And what a dinner I made! I cooked the best steaks to-date. I fried them with Worcestershire sauce and chianti, topped with sauteed onions and mushrooms cooked in white wine, and added a side baked potato and sauteed garlic spinach.
Following our subsequent food coma and TV, I meandered into bed and tried to find my "comfortable" position in the nursery. For the last couple weeks, it seems my son's trundle bed was my only refuge. I finally fell into sleep, only to be awakened by a snap...on the inside. It didn't hurt, but it definitely wasn't normal. Then a gush of warm water started to come out.
I jumped out of bed, so as not to make a mess. Each step I took another gush of water came out.
"Honey!"
"Yeah?"
"I think my water just broke."
I managed to get to the bathroom and proceeded to sit on the commode. It seemed to be the only place I could stay without leaking all over the place. It was at this point the tears started flowing and the fear of what was about to happen settled in. Holy shit, I was going to give birth! NukeBoy called the hospital to tell them what was happening. The doctor called us back and told us to start heading to the ER.
Five minutes later, contractions started. At first, I wasn't sure what they were; they didn't hurt all that bad, but they were coming every six minutes. A lot faster than I was expecting.
NukeBoy managed to get everything into the car while I was forced to sit in the bathroom with a perpetually turned on faucet. Each time I tried to get up and help, another gush of fluid came running down my legs. How much water can you break, anyway?
Thank God we only live five minutes from the hospital, since that was about how long my contractions were. We piled towels on the seat and headed out. When we got there, I waddled into the ER; it was a dead zone. We had to buzz the door in order to get someone to come out and bring us a wheel chair.
I remember the small-chat in the ER waiting for the maternity nurses to come down and get us. I'm contracting away, doing my ojai breathing, while my husband and the ER attendant are chit-chatting about names. Where the hell was that nurse? Shouldn't they be moving a little faster? I mean, there was a freakishly large thing trying to claw out of me!
FINALLY, the nurse arrived and they moved me up to the maternity ward. I was undressed where, guess what, more water spilled all over the floor. With every contraction, more and more fluid was coming out. Was this normal? With any luck, a large portion of the 45 pounds I gained was leaving a trail from my bathroom to this hospital.
I labored through some more contractions. They were starting to get stronger, as attested to my husband's crushed hand. The nurse examined me and it looked like I was already at five centimeters. Jeez, that only took about an hour and half.
Epidural, please!
Unfortunately, the epidural process was a nightmare. Trying to labor through my contractions while staying perfectly still so the catheter could be put in place was horrendous. Plus, NukeBoy had a cough which prevented him from coming anywhere near me while the catheter was going in. I had to lean forward with my head down as the nurses held me. My muscles started to cramp in my neck. I was in so much pain from the contractions and the uncomfortable position, I just wanted to die.
Of course, Murphy's Law: the epidural didn't work. They had to do it again. Not just again, but with THREE entry points.
Over an hour later, the epidurals were in place, and I was finally coasting. "I can do this!"
That was, of course, until the doctor said that it wasn't his head she was seeing coming down. It was his cheek. He was coming down face first; it was too late for a vaginal birth. I had to be prepped for an emergency c-section.
My heart sank. Everything happened so fast. I remember the doctor telling NukeBoy to go get the camera and change into scrubs. The next thing I new I was being wheeled into the OR. The anesthesia wasn't working. I could still feel the doctor poking me. Plus, my body had decided to go into spasms, and I couldn't stop shaking head to toe. I had to be put almost completely under.
The room started to go gray, then the ringing started in my ears. Everything became surreal. I could hear myself moaning with every breath. NukeBoy was reassuring me that he was there and everything was going to be ok. I felt a lot of tugging and pushing. Then I heard the doctor laugh. It wasn't my baby's cheek that was coming out, but his scrotum. He was completely breech.
Then I heard it: his cry. My baby was crying. It was the sweetest sound I ever heard. Everything was ok. Ten fingers, ten toes, an abnormally swollen scrotum thanks to me trying to deliver him that way for two hours, but a healthy 6 lb 13.5 oz baby boy. NukeBoy tried to bring him over to me, but I remember the anesthesiologist saying that I was completely out of it and wouldn't remember it. That really angers me, since I will always remember that damn stupid conversation and not seeing my son the moment he was born. I definitely would have remembered my son.
It took forever. I was wheeled back to my room. Where was he? I needed to see him. I needed to hold him. This little creature that's been unknowingly killing me for eight and a half months had to get into my arms. Now.
Then he came.
Absolute perfection. I was staring at pure perfection.
MonkeyBoy
6 lbs 13.5 oz
20.5 inches
4:21 AM
11/23/10
Yankee Doodle Dandy,
– TYG
