His due date was December 20th, but on this day in 1999, Boy-Child#2 was born. He did not arrive early by accident. This was totally planned. Because I am all about putting my proverbial ducks in the proverbial row. I wanted him born as far away from Christmas as was possible; and considering Boy-Child#1 was just so darn comfortable in my womb and decided to stay in there a week past his due date, I did not take any chances. I begged asked my doctor if it was possible to slap some hurry up on the delivery of Child#2 (not knowing if it was a boy or girl residing in my body at the time). After determining that conditions were "ripe" (i.e. sticking the entire length of her arm into my vagina...so totally not a good time... and poking my cervix with ALL of her fingers, some newfangled Braille... so not a great party game) she gave me two thumbs up (after the removal of her arm, obviously, otherwise how would I know?). At 6am the following morning, I was in my labor and delivery room, Pitocin flowing generously into my iv, and feeling a little anxious. After all, Boy-Child#1 was a 12 hour ordeal that started at 5 centimeters dilated and after 6 hours of unrelenting contractions and begging for an epidural, I found myself at: 5 centimeters dilated. Oh the frustration of labor. Boy-Child#1 also required 2 hours of pushing and was finally removed by vacuum extraction. It was then that we realized how enormous that child was (9lbs. 7oz.). No wonder he was stuck in the walls, as it were. But, bless his big fat head, he cleared the way for future siblings because he is so considerate like that.
Labor with Boy-Child#2 did not require an epidural. Why? Because I wasn't in any pain. I know. Just hate me and deal. I watched tv. I chatted with a room full of friends and relatives. I could hear other women laboring and was feeling really bad for them. And was glad it wasn't me. Every few minutes my abdomen would harden and squeeze; and according to the monitor I was having a doozy of a contraction. Thank goodness for my mother in law standing by to inform me that "That was a big one!" because honestly, I was like "whatever". Forty-five minutes before he was born the pain realized it was late to the party, showed up with an entourage and some groupies to say howdy. The lovely nurse offered to spike my iv with some Demoral and I was all "yes please!". She advised that she'd give me half of the dose just to make sure it wouldn't make me ill (i.e. vomit all over myself). It took about 4.8 seconds before I felt like I'd consumed an entire bottle of cheap wine and asked her to hook me up with the rest of the magic crack. She tells me "I already did". Bitch. I was really excited about what the rest might do to me. But I didn't have time to think to hard on it because right around this time I went from 7 centimeters to 10 in like 5 minutes and it suddenly felt like there was a basketball between my inner thighs. The crowning moment. There was a flurry of activity in the room. Shit was being draped. I was being flipped on my side and told to keep my knees together and blow because this child was comin' and the doctor was en route. So I would blow. Hooo...hoooo...hooo...(and then) Hoooo...hooommmm...hmmmm.... hmmmmmmm. "You're pushing!" "No I'm not" Hmmmmmmm....hmmmmm.... "yes you are!" "I CAN'T HELP IT!!!". It felt so good to push. And I really had no control over it. My body was completely independent of my brain at this point. I mean, I wasn't even sure if we'd ever met. Who are you and what the hell are you doing down there? Doctor arrives. Doctor snips (oh the joys of an apesiotomy). Husband comments that it sounds like she just cut a piece of leather. About 15 minutes and a handful of pushes later: It's a boy! I sob. Husband sobs happy sobs. I say "That's it?". Baby cries. Baby is healthy. Husband cuts the cord. Me: I WANT TO DO IT AGAIN!!! Husband learns that I am bat shit crazy. This was too easy. Not really feeling like I earned my stripes. Friends and family come in to give us our props. Sister in law observes that I didn't break a sweat and look like I'm ready to go out to dinner. Hair and makeup still in tact. That is my kind of delivery...one that does not muss.
Happy Birthday to my little man.
Friday, December 14, 2007
And in This Corner: Weighing in at 7 Pounds 13 Ounces and 19 Inches Long!
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9 comments:
Isn't that Demerol the absolute best? I was drugged heavily with my first and let me tell you, it was the only thing that kept me alive. We moved to another state before birthing the next few and the hospital staff refused to believe that they actually used that drug for labor in this century. Needless to say, I never saw it again.
Happy Birthday, Boy Child #2!!
Very funny, on many levels! I'll pick up on just one -- your sob vs. husband's happy sob. Of course, you could just be sobbing because the baby's out, but I'm guessing it was the 'it's a boy' that got you. I wanted a girl soooo badly with my first pregnancy that I actually couldn't comprehend a boy. At my first ultrasound appointment, I was all YES I want to know the gender. The technician was very pleased for us: what a healthy baby -- great liver, heart, lungs, limbs! Penis.
I cried the whole way home, feeling like a total wretch, knowing I should be thanking my lucky stars, God, Buddha and all the rest for a healthy baby. But damn, I wanted that girl.
My husband uses the term bat shit - I love it!
Well that is a very nice story for those of us who don't get have chidlren to hear!
Happy Birthday, Boy Child #2!! And I definitely think you earned your stripes -- you had an epesiotomy! I think that makes you a five star general!!
Oh, I wish I didn't know what it felt like to have someone's arm up all the wrong places, but my son's birth introduced me to the concept. I cringe just thinking about it.
Happy birthday to your boy!
Hey - you earned your stripes by the whole leather comment. Wow. Gotta love the entire Dr.'s torso up yours, just to check things out. Ouch. I liked the stripping of the membranes. That actually broke my water all over my dr.'s self. Serves her right trying to do all that to my poor unsuspecting cervix.
Hair & make-up still intact? That should get you an award right there.
It's great to remember the labor stories, isn't it?
Thank you for the birthday wishes!
Karen~ Demerol is lovely. I had Fentanyl with my last child. It was equally delicious but shorter lasting.
Mary~ Both of my first two pregnancies, we didn't find out the sex of either, and both times I was convinced I was having girls. Then by the third I was convinced I was having a boy and when we DID find out via ultrasound that she was a girl, I was shocked. I figured by that point that I just made boy babies. End of story.
Madame Queen and Monica~ episiotomies are the suck. Not so much when it happens but later when you're trying to walk up a flight of stairs and you're highly aware of your whole nether regions. Or when you try to sit. GA!! Don't wanna think about it. Didn't need one for the last child though. Wonder what that says about me!
JCK~ Yeah. No muss. The birth of Girl-Child was pretty much a repeat performance, only faster and shorter. I literally left the hospital the next afternoon.
mrs. g ~ fun ain't it?!
I love birth stories! Especially happy ones! My second was nice and civilized like that too - first contraction at breakfast, perfect baby in my arms just after lunch (a lunch I didn't get to eat, but hope you enjoyed the Burger King Hubs!) Happy Birthday Boy #2!
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