I remember it like it was yesterday. Being pregnant with him was a breeze. I felt happy, healthy, sexy and confident, I wore hot shorts and mini skirts with my bump and went out dancing, and yes I was 21 at the time.
But at 37 weeks, as I went into full on nesting mode, the reality sank in. I was pregnant and single, with a dog, a shitty car that many times led me to ride the bus, and I was working 40+ RETAIL slave weeks. No offense to retail but you know what the hell working mall retail is. And prior to even getting pregnant I had experienced a whole slew of reproductive issues. Ovarian cysts, that led to ovary removal, that led to Endometriosis, that led to scar tissue removal, that led to being told I could never have kids. And now that I was pregnant, and the due date was closing in, I remember feeling overly paranoid and extremely anxious about how the hell the baby was going to come out!
At my 37 week visit my Dr. sensed my anxiety,
"What if I go into labor and I'm by myself and I bleed to death?"
"What if I go into labor, by myself, in my shitty car, with my dog?"
And as opposed to calming me down with supportive like gestures,
How about you take a nice warm bath?
Read some mantras.
Trust that your body knows what its doing.
Her option was to schedule an induction THAT Friday, and mind you this was on a TUESDAY.
And for those of you not familiar with an induction, its when the Dr. intravenously gives synthetic hormones to synthesize an onset of labor.
aka "They know how to play god".
¡FML! was an understatement and being young and uneducated in birth politics at the time, I took the out. Or at least I thought it was an out, for the days that proceeded to Roxwell's birth are still the scariest and triumphant days I've ever had in my life. And I ain't no punk.
Before I ever got pregnant, while everyone was off to college sure of what they wanted to do and become, the only thing I was ever sure of is that I wanted to become a mother. And even initially when I unexpectedly and doubtfully became pregnant and realized I'd be going in it alone, I thought "bring it on".
But the Thursday before that Friday, I was terrorized with panicked thoughts. I didnt even leave my house. I just laid in my bathtub and cried. What the fuck had I gotten myself into? How the hell was I going to get out of it? How the hell am I going to do this on my own?
In that day, everything I never allowed myself to think, I thunk, and my mind went to a scared dark place. I don't remember how I ever went to sleep. On the devils lap perhaps...
But when I woke up I was no longer scared, and looking back I feel the love I had yet to discover overcame that fear, and at 8am that Friday I was ready to meet my baby maker. I was more focused than ever!
If only the fucking nurse administering the IV would of been!
Im sure she was a nice lady, but she blew out and bled my veins 3 times trying to put in a simple IV. I dont remember her name, but I remember her face, and she was lucky I was so zen in that moment! She was so bad my mother who was there with me and who is also a skilled phlebotomist interfered and did the job for her. I was able to keep my cool.
Drip Drip Drip, the pitocin went into my body, and at 1030 when I looked at the clock the induction was indeed induced, but I didn't feel anything more than a period cramp. 30 minutes after another nurse, came in and told me it was time to break my water.
Not knowing anything, I went along with everything. Until I felt it. What had to be no longer than 30 minutes after my water had been broken, I felt this undeniable urge all throughout my body, that I had to take the most serious dump I have ever taken in my life. The pressure was so insane I swear it felt like I might in fact throw up shit, and my only safe haven was the toilet seat. Which I like to refer to as my "birthing throne", since it has been a trusted friend throughout both my labors. I was on that toilet for 45 minutes. But I still had no idea that I was in full blown active labor. It didn't hurt. There was no hooting and hollering. I remained focused in a meditative state, phasing out whatever annoyance was around me. It was just me and the bathroom.
The nurse came in and had a fit that I wasn't in the hospital bed. In which I gave her a polite fuck you and told her that if I laid in the bed my shit was going to come flying out of my mouth. My comment triggered her to check my dilation which had not been done since my water broke. Im sure they thought, she's a first time mom, and its only been about an hour and a half, she'll be a while. But sure enough when she checked me I had gone from 1cm to 7cm dilated in an hour and a half! Referred to as 'transitional labor', also known as its about time to push this baby out.
I remember being so amazed. But still I had no idea of my feat.I had gone all that way, in such little time with no pain medications of any kind, not to mention induced labors are statistically more intense. And then I got fucked over. The nurse proceeded with a scare tactic that convinced me to get an epidural. She told me I had progressed too fast and was at the point of no return and if I wanted to get an epidural now, was my last chance. What if you got stuck pushing she said. You can find yourself pushing for 40 minutes without one, she insisted. And although I had 2 people in the room that were supposedly there for me, I had no support. No one to tell me, I could do it. No one to tell me, you've done amazing this far, what's 3 more centimeters?! I was alone, and I gave in, for fear of the unknown.
When my epidural was administered a wave of warmth or as I can see it now, numbness took over my body. And it made me feel sedated. Although I could no longer feel anything I was still focused and extremely relaxed. I mean I know drugs are bad, but dam, sometimes they can make you feel really good. You cant deny that.
In that moment I was so content and comfortable, even though my vagina was the size of a baseball, and the top of the baby's hair could be seen with the mere opening of my legs. Which, is exactly how it played out 30 more minutes after I was given my epidural. When my Dr came in to check and see how the epidural was doing, I couldn't and didn't feel shit. And as soon as she pulled back my gown to check my progress, I clearly remember her saying, "Oh sweetie, its time to push". "
"Do you want to feel his head?"
¡Sacrebleu!
And in 3 seconds the room went from being an ordinary hospital room to a delivery room. The bed went from a bed to a delivery chair. And then came the whole slew of nurses. It was time for the real action. And I had least expected to bite more time with perhaps being wheeled over into another room like they do in the movies.
"Am I having the baby now?" I remember sedately asking.
"Do you feel like pushing?", she asked.
What I want to know, is who the hell can feel the urge to push after having an epidural. Isn't that the point? And since I couldn't feel anything nor had I any clue on how to push she gave me very simple instructions.
"Just hold the back of your knees, and push down as if you're putting your head underwater."
That was golden. She had been my Dr for the whole 9 months, and that was the most useful advice she ever gave me, come to think of it perhaps the only advice period. But considering all that I know now about gynecologist, I was very lucky to have chosen her randomly out of an insurance book. She was one of the "best" ones in the city, and was also one of the very few of them who was also a Board Certified Lactation Consultant. Which up until that day I had no idea how that would forever change my life.
I gave 3 strong pushes and not even 15 minutes in, he was out. And that I did feel. Him leaving my body. But looking back I realize it was much more of an emotional feeling than it was a physical one. This being that for 37 weeks he had been a part of me, he was me, and he was created in me, was now detaching and departing from my insides. A crazy feeling that I just don't think I will ever have the words to define. And some things are meant to be unexplainable that way. Some call that God. And in that second, I felt just that.
At 1:26pm, after three and a half hours of labor, all 6 pounds 4 ounces of him came out healthy with a strong cry that I distinctively remember sounded like a laugh to me. They cleaned him, wrapped him up and put him in my arms, and as they all chattered about how unexpectedly fast and great my labor was and how amazing I did, the only thoughts I thought were of him. I was instantly hit with that instinctive super mom super women power everyone talks about, and from that day on I have lived for him. He has taught me life and love and so much about myself as a person. He is my rock, for his name is Roxwell.
Aww I loved it, your AWESOME!!!
ReplyDeleteAnd OMG that was the best advice! ;)