The chaplain settled me in a wheelchair and pushed me to the
elevator. Philip was directed stay downstairs and fill out paperwork. I
was about to protest that I really needed my husband with me but was
silenced by another contraction.
It seemed like forever
before Philip was able to rejoin me. Then my mom came up. I can't
relate clearly much of what happened during the next hours. Resting in
the warm water of the bathtub helped ease the pain somewhat. I wanted
the water hotter than was allowed; I like my baths steaming. The nurses
kept needing to try to find the baby's heartbeat; I would have to sit up
out of the water for this, and it was quite uncomfortable. Eventually
they requested that I get out of the tub so they could monitor the
baby's heart rate better. I was in to much pain and too exhausted to
question what was happening. They did tell me the baby was fine, so I
just took that at face value.
Laying on the bed, the
contractions became even stronger and more close together. I don't
remember how far along I was at this point or how long I had been in
labor, but I do remember that I was hopelessly far away from being
complete. Philip was in too much pain from his back to do any massage,
support me to stand and "dance," or even support me on the birthing
ball. At one point, he experienced a wave of pain so severe it nearly
caused him to collapse. The nurse recognized it and called a "code DAD,"
or something like that. A bunch of nurses hurried into the room and
helped Philip lay down on the couch in the room. Another link in our
carefully laid plans gone wrong. I broke down in my resolution to have a
completely natural birth, and whined for "medicine." I didn't want an
epidural, and I couldn't even remember the name for anything else. It's
probably a good thing, because if I had asked for morphine or something
else by name, it would have been harder for Philip to convince them not
to give it to me. Months before, I had requested that Philip not allow
me to give in, since I knew that I would be frustrated with myself if I
were to not to stay firm. Philip upheld his end of the deal, better than
I did. He later told me that the nurse told him that if I asked for
something one more time, she would feel obligated to give me something.
Fortunately, at that point I was too exhausted to request anything
further.
Philip later mentioned that from his vantage
point, it looked like I was relaxing and breathing just the way the
Bradley books recommended. In reality, I was just focusing on breathing
and couldn't think beyond the end of each contraction. My mom was at my
head, breathing with me. I know it sounds strange, but without her
there, I'm not sure I could have kept breathing. Finally, I got to the
point where I could hardly keep myself from pushing, so I was told to go
ahead. It was such a relief to be able to do something other than just
ride through the pain. Three hours later, my energy was nearly spent.
The baby's heart rate was still okay but mine was spiking very high. I
was breathing oxygen between contractions but wasn't getting much of a
rest as they were coming too quickly. Eventually, I was offered a vacuum
assisted delivery. The baby was far enough down for this but still high
enough that it was going to take quite a bit more pushing and not much
progress was being made. In my bleary state, I weighed the options and
chose the vacuum.
Just two contractions later, my baby
was born. In all the excitement, I had to ask if it was a boy or girl.
Everyone had forgotten all about that. The doctor handed Philip the baby
and he looked stunned. He had been convinced all along that our first
baby would be a boy, plus the story of a friend whose recent baby had
been mistakenly announce by the grandmother, "It's a boy!" was going
through his mind. Finally, he said, "It's a girl!" He placed her in my
arms and I named her "Eris Mae."
Shortly after that,
Eris was taken to the nursery for monitoring. She was breathing too
quickly; Philip went with her. After my stitches were finished, my dad,
brother, and two friends who had been waiting came in. They had been
able to see Eris in the nursery. By this time it was late and my mom,
who is not a night person in the best situations, was exhausted. My Dad
drove her home, and I was alone. It was certainly not the happy birth
experience I had anticipated. I was too exhausted and in pain to go see
my baby in the nursery. I was assured that she was just fine and would
likely transition out of this phase without any future trouble, but it
still wasn't what I wanted. My Dad came back to spend the night at the
hospital with me; he understood my feelings and I was able to cry a
little bit.
Four days later, we were able to take Eris
home. It was then that I was able to experience all the new mommy
feelings of joy and pride. I was so happy to have a sweet baby girl who
was healthy. I was proud of myself for going through eleven hours of
tough labor and thankful for my husband and mother who had helped me.
Since then, motherhood has continued to present challenges but each
moment is also filled with so much joy and love. I love being a mommy so
much, and I have three other birth stories to prove it!
No comments:
Post a Comment