Labor of Love.
I, again, witnessed one of my biggest pet peeves in the convenient store the other day. Mothers telling a, soon to be, mom horror stories about labor. You know, labor, the thing this poor girl has never been through, the thing that has nothing to do with yours, the thing you should share with someone that you cannot scare the b'jesus out of in a grocery mart!
Even when one of these naive, young moms-to-be ask me directly about it, I tend to minimize the drama of it all. Stress the fact that "everyone is different" and "it is so worth it, no matter what". I always throw in a "You will do fine, your body takes over, it knows what to do".
I was pretty lucky in that area. All four were natural births and the longest one was eight hours, six and a half of which I labored in my mom's house because the stupid nurse said that if was just my back that was hurting, it may be the start of labor, but I should wait until the pain squeezes around to the front before coming to the hospital.
That was my first labor, with Ryan, nineteen years ago. Speaking of nineteen, that was my age and I was clueless as to what to expect, so I pretty much did as told.
It started at noon that day,this horrid back pain that throbbed and got worse and then got better again, to only get worse again. The cycle continued and by 5 pm, I told my mom I would go lay down and wait for Ralph, my first husband, to get home from work. I really went up to her room because the pain was earth-shattering now and I thought I had a long way to go and did not want to be seen as a "big baby" this early in the process. I screamed into pillows as each contraction peaked, so as not to be heard and to not ruin my cover as strong, brave and pain tolerant.
When Ralph arrived at her house at 615pm he came up and found me there, looking kind of whacked and seeing in my eyes that we may need to go to the hospital NOW. I told him they had not come around to the front, but after some discussion, we decided to go anyway.
My family was all downstairs getting ready to eat supper, they tried to warn me that I would just be sent home, it was not time yet. As I walked out the front door, I got another back contraction so strong that it sent me, involuntarily, into a squatting position. We drove to our apartment a few blocks away to get my bag, just in case, where I again squatted involuntarily every 45 seconds.
Upon arriving at the hospital, they learned it was my first baby and took their sweet time asking me questions about my religious preference, medical history and junk I thought I had already answered... already! It was about 640pm by now and still, after being there for ten minutes, no one had checked me. A nurse came in and put the monitors on me and assured me I would be checked very soon.
Very soon meant twenty-five minutes later when an intern and a nurse arrived and asked how I was feeling, being very low key and nonchalent until............the nurse pulled her hand out, gave him a surprised look, he inserted his and said, "Time to go to the delivery room!!!". And out they both ran.
I grabbed the phone, called my mom, who was still chewing on a mouthful of dinner,
"Mom, it's me"
"Are they spending you home now?"
"No, they are sending me to the delivery room"
(Hyper nurse returns, tells me to hang up, I am 10 cms and should be pushing by now, as she waits for me to hang up while making spastic movements to hurry, hurry , HURRY!!)
"Mom, I have to go now, they are here to take me."
"Okay, we will be there after I clean up dinner, this could take all night, they could still send you home, ya know..."
"Ummm, bye mom...."
So, I am off to the delivery room or as I remember it the "push til you pop each vein in your head" room. That first one takes some serious push time, but by 802pm, there was my son. My precious little Ryan in my arms. The family all made it in time, just in time, and within thirty minutes we were back in my original room.
They wheeled him in, with that striped white and blue cap on his tiny, little head. It was silent as as we all looked at him, with excitement, love and anticipation. No one's life would ever be the same. His life would make it better, this tiny 8lb 3oz'er would change everything.
So,those crazy bitches want to talk about pain and horror, when it is really all about this.............
Even when one of these naive, young moms-to-be ask me directly about it, I tend to minimize the drama of it all. Stress the fact that "everyone is different" and "it is so worth it, no matter what". I always throw in a "You will do fine, your body takes over, it knows what to do".
I was pretty lucky in that area. All four were natural births and the longest one was eight hours, six and a half of which I labored in my mom's house because the stupid nurse said that if was just my back that was hurting, it may be the start of labor, but I should wait until the pain squeezes around to the front before coming to the hospital.
That was my first labor, with Ryan, nineteen years ago. Speaking of nineteen, that was my age and I was clueless as to what to expect, so I pretty much did as told.
It started at noon that day,this horrid back pain that throbbed and got worse and then got better again, to only get worse again. The cycle continued and by 5 pm, I told my mom I would go lay down and wait for Ralph, my first husband, to get home from work. I really went up to her room because the pain was earth-shattering now and I thought I had a long way to go and did not want to be seen as a "big baby" this early in the process. I screamed into pillows as each contraction peaked, so as not to be heard and to not ruin my cover as strong, brave and pain tolerant.
When Ralph arrived at her house at 615pm he came up and found me there, looking kind of whacked and seeing in my eyes that we may need to go to the hospital NOW. I told him they had not come around to the front, but after some discussion, we decided to go anyway.
My family was all downstairs getting ready to eat supper, they tried to warn me that I would just be sent home, it was not time yet. As I walked out the front door, I got another back contraction so strong that it sent me, involuntarily, into a squatting position. We drove to our apartment a few blocks away to get my bag, just in case, where I again squatted involuntarily every 45 seconds.
Upon arriving at the hospital, they learned it was my first baby and took their sweet time asking me questions about my religious preference, medical history and junk I thought I had already answered... already! It was about 640pm by now and still, after being there for ten minutes, no one had checked me. A nurse came in and put the monitors on me and assured me I would be checked very soon.
Very soon meant twenty-five minutes later when an intern and a nurse arrived and asked how I was feeling, being very low key and nonchalent until............the nurse pulled her hand out, gave him a surprised look, he inserted his and said, "Time to go to the delivery room!!!". And out they both ran.
I grabbed the phone, called my mom, who was still chewing on a mouthful of dinner,
"Mom, it's me"
"Are they spending you home now?"
"No, they are sending me to the delivery room"
(Hyper nurse returns, tells me to hang up, I am 10 cms and should be pushing by now, as she waits for me to hang up while making spastic movements to hurry, hurry , HURRY!!)
"Mom, I have to go now, they are here to take me."
"Okay, we will be there after I clean up dinner, this could take all night, they could still send you home, ya know..."
"Ummm, bye mom...."
So, I am off to the delivery room or as I remember it the "push til you pop each vein in your head" room. That first one takes some serious push time, but by 802pm, there was my son. My precious little Ryan in my arms. The family all made it in time, just in time, and within thirty minutes we were back in my original room.
They wheeled him in, with that striped white and blue cap on his tiny, little head. It was silent as as we all looked at him, with excitement, love and anticipation. No one's life would ever be the same. His life would make it better, this tiny 8lb 3oz'er would change everything.
So,those crazy bitches want to talk about pain and horror, when it is really all about this.............
Yeah, so worth it...
posted by Sunny at Thursday, May 04, 2006
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