Labor pains of long ago
Just in case I haven’t called you yet about the great news, or seen the 10,000 pictures on Facebook, I’ll repeat it here: I’m a grandad!
Magnolia Blue Houston was born on Sunday, the day after my father’s birthday. She is, of course, the most beautiful baby ever born. The nervous period waiting for Maggie’s birth gave me a PTSD flashback to my own child’s birth in Virginia. What I recall most vividly is the suffering, screaming, cursing, and crying. But I couldn’t help it, it was my first birthing. My wife handled it much better.
I put some of the blame on the Lamaze class we took. The instructor told us many times that, when labor started, we had plenty of time before the actual event. Bake some cookies for your husband, pack some popsicles in a cooler, do your nails, etc. Then just hop on down to the hospital, breathe as instructed, and you get a baby. Right, easy as pie, or cookies.
Here is how our son’s birth process started. My wife saw the doctor on a Friday and was told she had at least two more weeks before delivery. That was good, because we were moving that weekend into a tri-story condo across town. We moved stuff on Saturday, went to church on Sunday, moved more stuff, had a get together at the church that evening, then I went back to get the last load onto the truck. It was about midnight when I got everything unloaded. I showered, got into bed, and remarked that I was going to take off work the next day because I was so tired. My wife replied, “I’m having contractions and the baby is moving like crazy!” I laughed and said that it was just spasms from her having lifted the refrigerator onto the truck, reminding her that the doctor had said she was two weeks away from delivering. But, since I’m a good husband, I got up and took her to the hospital, fully expecting them to tell us that she was just imagining the whole thing.
They said she was in full labor and dilating.
Over the next 20 hours we waited. Doctors and nurses rotated out of the room. Since we had the Lamaze course we were going to try the experience without benefit of an epidural. I was griping that I hadn’t gotten any cookies baked for me. But I was also the coach and had even received a cool scrub shirt from the hospital that stated the same. So, I held her hand, told her to breathe, and gave her ice chips.
Then the contractions stopped. My wife was now starting to really hurt. She told the nurse that she had changed her mind and now wanted drugs. Lots of drugs, now. The nurse laughed and said that she was too far along for an epidural. I asked about getting cookies and got nasty looks from both of them.
So, we settled in for the duration. My son was not coming out, so the doctor resorted to his bag of tricks. Something that looked like a plumber’s helper was used first but that didn’t work. Then they tried attaching some device to his head to pull him out, but his shoulders were too big. By this time things were getting tense. I am not ashamed to say that I was in tears and begging for a C-section, just get the baby out so I could go home and get
some popsicles! The smack in the nose from my wife brought me out of my hysterical state and I resumed my coaching. She was tired, crying and when the doctor told her to push harder, she said she couldn’t do it anymore. He started cursing and yelling at her to push or else, so I joined in the cursing and yelling as well, because I at least knew how to do that. This provoked a huge rage in my wife causing her to push the baby out, much to my relief (I didn’t want to be hit again). He was born at 9:23 p.m., some 21 hours after labor began. I had not slept in 38 hours. I left the hospital at 1 a.m. to go home, realized I had lost the house key, went back to the hospital to look for it unsuccessfully, and resorted to calling a locksmith a little after two in the morning. He had no interest in hearing about me being a father, which I found to be rude.
I woke the next morning feeling hungover and nauseous, but then remembered I had a son. Greatest feeling in the world!
Would have been even better with home-made cookies.