Labor and Delivery

Exactly 52 weeks ago today, I gave birth to our son.  However, due to the fact that a year takes 365 days to revolve around the sun instead of 364, his birthday isn’t until tomorrow.  Whatever!

Today feels like his birthday to me for two reasons.

I’ve marked every week of his first fifty-two with pictures starting on Saturday so that I can make a week by week scrapbook of his first year.  This is the beginning of that last week!

And I have absolutely no memory.  I was induced on the 10th so I always think his birthday is on the 10th.  Inconsiderate child was not born until 12:16 AM on the 11th.  Psh.

So anyway!

We headed to the hospital that morning and started the long, long process of inducing labor.  For the first five hours, the nurse ramped up my pitocin until it seemed I was in a good labor pattern.  The doctor checked me at 11:30 and I expected great things.

Nothing.

I had not changed / dialated one bit.  He broke my water and  inserted an internal fetal monitor to check the strength of my contractions and the baby’s vitals.

My contraction level went off the charts.  Almost every one was at full strength.  I laid there, talking to the doctor nonchalently.

“WOW!  You must really be feeling these!”

Truth was, they just weren’t that bad.  I must have a high tolerance for pain because really, it was uncomfortable but not worthy of really complaining about.

Four hours later, still no change.  No change = no epidural.

At that point, I decided that maybe having drugs would be a good thing so that I could get some sleep since delivery was hours away.  The nurse put something absolutely magical in my IV and I was OUT cold for hours.  We repeated the cycle of checking my progress, disappointment, and drugs until 11:30 PM.

At that point, I realized all my uterus was doing was massaging Adam and not going to actually deliver him.

The doctor knew it too and we discussed a c-section.  He kept asking me what I wanted to do and in my drugged haze I think I finally said, “Well, YOU’re the doctor!”

Next thing I knew, I was in the operating room, sitting on the table, with the least skilled anesthesiologist in the world digging around in my spine, hitting every nerve there, and trying not to scream in pain as electrical jolts shot down my legs.  I swear, if I met that guy in a dark alley, I might just do him damage.

FINALLY, he found a good spot and everything went mercifully numb.

Ismael appeared out of nowhere and stroked my arm.

I felt a lot of tugging.

I heard, “Remember to breathe.”  Suddenly the anesthesiologist who tried to kill me was interested in keeping me alive.  Ironic.

I heard, “Wow.  That’s a LOT of hair.”

All I could think was, “Please, let him cry.  Please.”

After what felt like years, Adam Joel let loose a howl that calmed all of my fears.

I wish I had been more present for the experience, but in reality I was so drugged that I now remember it, but I didn’t feel any of it.

The nurses brought me my baby.  A picture was taken.  I held him on the way back to the room and Ismael took over from there with the help of Lorie and the nurses.

I sunk mercifully into the darkness.

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