Friday, September 07, 2012
I had a doctor's appointment in the morning twelve years ago today...just a regularly scheduled midwife exam. My nasty gross mucus plug had expelled itself a few days before..."a good sign" my midwife would tell me. She would perform an ultrasound and tell me it could be "any time" in the next two weeks. From the looks of him on that fuzzy gray screen, Jackson was about 6 pounds and was doing well.
Adrien took me to the appointment, and to breakfast afterward. Everything revolved around FOOD for me. I had eggs and chile rellenos.....yum! Every day little J was in my belly I craved spicy foods. I remember putting my fork down during the meal - a very rare thing for a pregnant lady - because I was feeling pangs and bumps and wiggles from the little man...but I was so used to being miserable that I didn't think a thing of it. And I wasn't about to waste one bite.
Adrien took me back home even though I told her I was fine and wanted to go back to work. I wandered around my big old lonely house trying to find something to take my mind off feel crummy. I was restless, uncomfortable and the house felt enormous. I threw up my breakfast (but that wasn't unusual) and pooped for over an hour (also not too unusual for pregnant me). I tried to nap, watch tv, take a walk....but I was starting to get scared and finally called Adrien. She wasn't at work (now that was unusual). She said she was packing an overnight bag. "Why?" I asked her...and she laughed and said "BECAUSE YOU ARE IN LABOR!"
So we timed the contractions over the phone and sure enough they weren't just plain old being pregnant and miserable pains...they were regular, and consistent and laboring kind of pains.
I called the midwives and they said no need to rush...we still mostly likely had a day to go...so Adrien finished packing up and headed over to my place.
Then the memory gets hazy.
I remember her driving me to the hospital...each bump in the road made me feel like I was passing out. I remember walking in to the triage area and stopping every 5 feet to brace myself against the wall, or ground, or random post. Then suddenly I was laying in the comfy room waiting to be seen by a midwife and kept thinking there was no way in hell I could do this. It felt like every cell in my body was trying to escape through my skin. These weren't cramps or contractions...these were electrical shocks from my soul. I knew that statistically speaking labor lasted 14 hours. It was around 2 o'clock at this point and I had only been hurting for maybe an hour...so I was still in early labor!!!!! I turned to Adrien and said oh hell no makeitstoprightnow... I screamed at her to get out and come back with an epidural. Adrien tried to reason with me, reminding me that non-insane Karen had wanted a natural experience. But all the soothing and coaxing just made me more ferocious and pretty soon Adrien left the room and returned with a midwife.
I have a friend with four kids and she jokes that there should be a person called an "epidoula". And their job would be to accompany a laboring woman to the hospital and yell "EPIDURAL RIGHT NOW" until the anesthesiologist comes running.
So the midwife arrived and promptly stuck her hand up in me for about a millisecond before pulling it out....shocked to discover I was already 10 cm and ready to push!
Well then everything happened really fast.
They moved me into a birthing room immediately.
That's when I realized that blood was just oozing from my most precious bits and I was shocked that no one seemed to mind. I was leaving a trail as I walked!! YUCK! The nurses and midwives just laughed when I kept trying to clean the mess as I hobbled along the hall to the birthing room.
Four hours later I was holding the most precious thing this world has to offer. Where there was one...there was now two.
And even though his feet stink and he drains every penny I make and is a horrible dishwasher...I have never in my life done anything more rewarding than be his mom. It is absolutely the reason I was on this planet.
Thank you, my little man, for 12 great years....may the best of last year be the worst of the next.
at 1:21 AM