Touching labour day stories speak of joy and pain
We asked for your birth stories and you obliged. We received many touching tales from our readers of that life- changing day. Read the rest online at www. thestar. com/ health.
HAPPINESS IS . . .
Aviv’s birth had the potential of having an all- familiar flavour. After all, he was the fourth son! But this journey had surprises each step of the way. The first person to confirm the pregnancy was our third son Leor, then nearly 3 years old. He took a quick breath while nursing to declare: “ You are growing a baby!”
I, of course, denied it, not knowing yet that I was indeed pregnant. He was right, though. Leor knew because recently I had experienced a miscarriage, and he remembered the taste of my milk when I was pregnant. Then my 10-year-old firstborn, Tal, started asking to be present at the birth. My husband and I had some serious discussions, did a lot of reading and many consultations. We decided to go for it. We proceeded to watch many birth movies with the children, who were aged 10, 6 and 3 at the time. We also took them to sibling preparation classes, and even a series of childbirth classes. We then went through five physicians, who each agreed to have the kids there, but were not able to get their hospitals to allow it.
Finally, in my eighth month, we found one obstetrician who worked at the only hospital in town that would allow siblings at the birth at that time. As part of the preparation, I had to think of the kids’ wellbeing during the birth. I knew I was okay giving birth but I knew that I would not be able to give birth and look after the older children . . . and I knew my husband — we are lucky if he would not pass out, let alone be responsible for the kids. So I asked my parents if they would want to be there — “ for the kids,” I said, but secretly I thought it would be an amazing experience for them.
I grew up with my mother’s story of the very difficult birth she had with me ( I am her only child), and I thought that being there for her grandchild’s birth would perhaps would offer her a different picture of what a good birth experience might be. My parents reluctantly agreed and arrived a week prior to the birth. My father then asked me to “ postpone” the birth. My due date was April 27, and this was only a few days away from a date very important for my father — May 1, the date he was liberated from the concentration camps. As I was growing up, my father always celebrated this date with me. This was MY day: I got to go wherever I wanted to, and spend the day with my dad. I always wanted to go to the same place, the zoo.
I informed my father that my body does not work like that, much as I would like to oblige. I always give birth on my due date, as I have on three occasions — Nov. 4, July 31 and Feb. 17. Needless to say, I laughed when April 27 came and went. When my labour started on May 1 at 2 a. m., I was laughing again. Then I began to worry. My first three took a rather long time to emerge once labour began — 23, 19 and 16 hours. What if the birth occurred the day after? I did not need to worry, however. The birth occurred at 8: 20 a. m. and I was in a semi- sitting position, with one leg on the obstetrician’s hip, the other on the nurse’s hip. To my left was my mother, who looked like the world was nearing an end. Next to her stood my dad holding Erin, the 6- year- old. Somewhere between my mother and my left knee stood my husband, who ventured much closer to the “ birth place” than he did with his first three (but he was still “not really looking”).
Leaning on the wall, straight across from me, stood my oldest, Tal, and at the foot of the bed, with his huge eyes peaking above the bed, was Leor, who was tapping his fingers on the bed while I was pushing. He thought it was taking too long! As the shoulders emerged, I placed my hands under the baby’s arms, and lifted him up. My dad only wanted to know the sex of the baby. He always wanted a granddaughter, and he saw four boys as the ultimate rebellion. At least, I said to my father, if not a girl, I gave you a “ liberation present” — a grandson born May 1. The moment was captured by my friend Mary, a midwife. It was only after we developed the photos that we realized that the pillow we brought from home had a Charlie Brown case on it with the caption: Happiness is being one of the gang!
Leor would tell his class the next day that his baby brother came wrapped in Saran Wrap. Erin would tell his class, “ I got to name my baby brother for one day — Herman.” Tal remains in awe to this day. Larry, my husband, who “almost” watched this birth, declared that if we have another one, he would want to actually catch the baby! My parents could not be more thrilled, even if we had had a girl! But my mother still thinks that birth is ridiculously difficult. Anona Zimerman, Toronto . . . . .
NO HUSBANDS ALLOWED
In 1967, it seemed that everyone was busy with Centennial projects. Mine was having a baby. On Thursday, Aug. 3, I made my weekly visit to my doctor only to be told that he was going on vacation and if I wanted to have him attend the birth of my baby I would have to give birth within the next 48 hours. He said that since I was one week past my due date, he would authorize me to go to hospital and be “ induced.”
I called my husband at work with the news and by 5: 30 p. m. I was in the delivery room waiting to be induced. About a half- hour later my water was broken for me and the labour pains began immediately.
Every two minutes for eight hours I had excruciating labour pains — in my back! At no time at prenatal class was I told that the pain would be, or could possibly be, in my back. I forgot all the breathing procedures and busied myself moaning, groaning and, in general, making a lot of noise. I spent some time looking out the window and was amazed to see my husband’s boss driving into the parking lot of the hospital. My husband had been told to go home and wait for news there. In 1967, husbands, parents, children and all the neighbours were not usually allowed in birthing rooms.
“ The Boss” was going on two weeks’ vacation that night and his wife had sent him to the hospital to find out if my baby had been born.
At a party the previous month, the boss’s wife had held a threaded needle over my stomach and predicted that the baby would be a girl. She didn’t want to wait two weeks to find out if she was right. The evening wore into night and at 2: 10 a. m. James Robert was born. James is my only child. People have asked me why I never had more. My answer has always been, “ Tried it once and didn’t like it.” Ann Price, Alliston . . . . .
SCARIEST NIGHT OF HER LIFE
Wow, where to begin. It was 14 years ago, on Sept. 18, 1991 at 7:45 a.m., when my beautiful son Everton graced the world with his presence. Mom, on the other hand, thought she was saying her goodbyes. This was one of the scariest nights of my life. I was in labour for seven hours with my second baby. I thought all was going well. But much to my surprise, the frightening events that lay ahead were already in motion. I remember the look on my doctor’s face when I asked her what was happening. I remember that look like it was yesterday. She was pacing back and forth and I was in so much pain I kept going in and out of consciousness. I was bearing down and needing to push but nothing was happening. The pain was unbearable. The baby had already entered the birth canal but was too big.
In a sheer panic after already waiting too long, my doctor called in a doctor who specialized in trauma births. My baby was stuck in the birth canal and needed to be delivered right away.
I remember my son’s father looking terrified, which frightened me even more. It was then I realized, we were both in danger. The specialist arrived and I remember him saying everything would be okay. By now my fear was in overdrive.
Finally after nearly nine hours my son was born with some much-needed assistance. The room was quiet and my son was sleeping on my chest. I took a big breath and knew there was really only one person I could thank and that was the lord. Thank you, Lord. Kimberley Katerenchuk, Oakville