Having a Baby Really is Labor

The hospital room was painted in pastel colors and the art on the wall was peaceful and unmemorable. The ground floor window gave me a view of a sheep pasture. No kidding. The ewes had their lambs by their sides and the old rancher was out among them checking on the newest lambs every few hours. It was springtime in Colorado, the ewes were lambing, the cows were calving and I felt like I was trying to deliver a baby elephant.

We had gone to LaMaze classes, taken the class on parenting a newborn. Stocked up on diapers and warm baby clothes. I was ready for motherhood. My husband was next to me the whole time, more attentive than at any other time in our, then, four years together. It was 1979, we didn't know the gender of the baby; technology and attitudes were different than they are in the 21st century hospitals so many babies arrive in these days. "We" had agreed that "I" would go through labor without drugs.

My doctor had been delivering babies in this ranching community for 40 years. His attitudes on pregnancy, delivery, parenting and child care were an odd mix of the old-fashioned and the most modern. He gave me choices, not orders. He was my family doctor for another five years and his attitudes on parenting, motherhood and child-rearing were unique in my experience.

I went to the hospital when my contractions were at the appropriate spacing. Progress was slow. It wasn't a hard labor but it just went on and on and on... Five centimeters, six centimeters, seven eight... After twenty hours in that labor room, I felt that I knew each ewe by name; Bertha, Candy, Trixie... Eight centimeters. EIGHT centimeters. 8 Centimeters. I was stuck. The doc said the baby was in no distress, but we could try some hormones to accelerate dilation if I wanted. (Of course I "wanted". This was my first, I was anxious, delighted, and exhausted.) "Not yet," popped out of my mouth before I knew it.

24 Hours, nine centimeters, I was ready to get on with this motherhood thing. I had been awake for 30 hours. 26 Hours, 9 centimeters. I got up, walked around. I was so tired. The baby was fine, Mom-to-be was getting weird in the head. I was entertaining the possibility that the nurse was keeping me from finishing this job up. I picked up the bag with my clothes and headed for the exit at the end of the hallway. The nurse and my husband were a tad slow following me, they had no clue what I was doing. Halfway to the door, they caught up with me and told me to get back to bed. I explained to them, very reasonably I thought. "I'm going home to get some sleep, I'll finish this later." For some odd reason they wouldn't allow that.

My daughter was born at 11 minutes 'til midnight with great APGAR score, wide awake and ready for life. I don't remember much from that final bit of labor until we arrived in the delivery room. At 15 minutes 'til midnight, my husband asked me if I could hold out until after midnight, the next day was his birthday. I think that was the only time I cussed much, and I'm pretty sure my language embarrassed that kind, old doctor.

For more on Lamaze birthing and parenting classes see http://www.lamaze.org/ . Their philosophy on natural pregnancy, childbirth, parenting help millions of families prepare to bring a child into a loving home.