My Son's Birth

The birth of my son tops my list as the most magnificent moment of my life. I remember it with detail too, although it was sixteen years ago. It began on a Friday in the afternoon, as my contractions started kicking in. What a way to begin a weekend, yes? Later that night my contractions were five minutes apart, and my mom insisted on calling the father's mom all the way in another town, so we could arrive in style to a hospital five minutes away if we walked there ourselves. Arrive in style we did!

When I arrived through the emergency entrance, the nurse on duty and both the grandmas helped transfer me from the car to the wheelchair, for I could barely walk by this time. As I was getting wheeled up to the ob/gyn floor, my head was swimming with thoughts of not knowing what to expect, for I was a young mother at eighteen, and scared. Once I was checked in, the on-call nurse had to check to see how far I wad dilated. I wasn't aware of how intrusive this would be, and I ended up crying out for the pain. I think I scared both grandmas for this!

I opted for a natural birth, for the hospital environment scared me! As a result, I choose a midwife instead of an actual obstetrician, a drug-free birth, and a birthing room setup to resemble more a room at home. Making all these choices made a big difference to me, for I felt more comfortable and more in control. Yet this was an illusion, for when the contractions started getting stronger, the pain was hard to tolerate. I would just breathe and pant through it, remembering my Lamaze classes.

Yet as calming and reassuring as those classes were and as the environment appeared, I couldn't sit still. I kept moving from the bed to the rocking chair to the shower to the hallway. The nurses even said I used up much of the hot water supply in the hospital, for needing it to soothe the labor pains in my back. I also kept talking to pass the time, and my birthing partner later commented I talked her ear off. I'm a nervous talker though.

Then all of a sudden my labor slowed down Saturday morning. I was kind of disappointed, for my birthing partner and I had worked through the night to induce progress. Even so, my labor was induced, for I carried my son a week and half past the due date. Now they had to induce the natural birthing process again by breaking my water by the means of the midwife using this instrument that resembled a huge crochet hook. Everything changed after that!

I then noticed an instant change, and I started to freak out a bit, for this was my first experience with natural labor. The midwife noticed my fear, and instructed me to push with the same muscles used for other duties. I just gave her a look as if to say "What?!" Obviously she knew what she was talking about, or else she wouldn't be there. Even so, when my mom started to pat my back in an attempt to calm me down in between my yelling, I told her to not touch me and to step away. I think I was just afraid of losing it even more, as I stood up to lean on the side of the bed. It was as if the bed carried my weight, in addition to my mother. I was so damn scared, and my eyes get misty remembering.

Having no control over the situation frightened me to the point I thought I was either going to black out or end up on the floor. For a moment, I thought I did. Yet I managed to somehow get this point across that I was starting to lose my bearings. Next thing I know, people helped me from the side of the bed to the bed, for I had to prepare and get ready for what was about to occur!

In all the excitement and apprehension of my son making his presence known, I adamantly refused to lie on my back. One reason is the fear of being out of control even more, and the other includes all the scenes that flashed through my head of women giving birth in the movies. I know this sounds sily, but giving birth in the movies always looked dreadful as the women lay on thier backs screaming, and that scared me. I decided the best thing was to give birth facing the other direction on my knees, for not only is it natural but this position also helped me to push and to bear down better. And did I ever! I thought I was going to break my teeth or bite my tongue off!

This was the longest five minutes of my life and the toughest. People in the room kept yelling at me to push, for it wasn't like I could get out of the situation. Till that moment, I shared little comprehension of what women and their bodies are capable of enduring. I felt I was getting ripped in two, like something out of a horror movie. Yet this was when my concentration was the strongest, for my mind was on giving my son life. Ironically, it was also when I was the quietest. I didn't have time to talk!

Unbeknown to me, a group of student nurses decide to casually stroll into my room to witness a live birth. It wasn't like I could talk at the time and tell them to get the hell out of there, even if I wanted to. There was little point in my being shy and bashful, even if I am. Be that as it may, the intrusive strangers staring at my bottom exposed to the world pissed me off to the point that I used the energy to push harder. I was also upset for I couldn't see my son's birth when everyone else could. The midwife and ob staff did prop a mirror up in case I turned my head, and I did once to try and see, even if the pain distracted me from peeking again.

Then I hear the midwife shouting, "I see the head!" My mom starts egging me on at this point, and the midwife suctions my son's nose so he could breathe. It was 9:36 a.m. on a Saturday morning when my son took in his first breaths, and I will never forget the electricity of the moment! It seemed the air had literally come alive!! Yet my job wasn't over yet, as I still had to pass his beefy shoulders. I didn't know it then, but my son was going to be a big dude!

My mom cut the umbilical cord and gave my son his first bath in the Leboyer bath next to the bed I was propped up on. As I watched and gawked in amazement at my son, the midwife tells me I am not done yet for the afterbirth. After this, I received a few stitches compliments of a staple gun, but it was nothing compared to giving birth to an almost nine pound baby! Even so, I asked my mom to hold my hand, like I did when I got stitches above my left eyebrow for falling down while roller-skating at Funway.

After I was doctored up, my newborn son was placed gently in my arms for the first time. I will never forget the moment, for seeing him wrapped up in a blanket with his little blue hat on. I made sure he had all his fingers and toes, for I wanted to be sure he was okay! I stared for I was taking him in for the first time up close and personal! Complete awe and wonder overtook me as I held my son in my arms May 9^th of 1992. I will never forget that special day!