It's a tradition, in my family, to retell a child's birthstory every birthday, so, here we go....
It all started the day before, July 10, 2002. My husband and I had gone over to his parents' house that evening, relaxing, talking, just hanging out. When we arrived back home we quickly discovered our air conditioning had gone out. Being 37 weeks pregnant, in the middle of summer, it took not time at all for me to decide I was heading over to my own parents' house til it was fixed.
I awoke the next morning with a large, whale-like-preggo roll, and then hearing, "pop". My water had broken. I jumped up out of bed and ran to the bathroom where I called for my mom, "mom, I think my water just broke..." She came running into the room shouting, "no, no, no, I was not suppose to be here for this one!"
It seems watching me labor for 25 hours in the hospital with my first child was way too traumatic for my mom and she had opted out of being in the birthing process for this child. Well, too bad. :)
She began putting her making up on and I began walking. I was in no pain at the moment and was worried my body wasn't on the ball. Within a hour we were on the road, heading back over to my place so I could pack my bags (that's right, I was 37 weeks and still hadn't packed a hospital bag), and plus we were meeting my hubs to pick him up as well.
I had decided to birth at one of our local birthing hospitals, yet when you're in labor, I think the real thinking is to just get the child out as quickly as possible. When we hit the interstate and the traffic came to a stand still, I became panicky, and began screaming to my husband to get me the hell off the road and to a hospital. We were able to maneuver over to an off ramp, take a few side roads, and then as we approached one hospital, I began demanding we just go there, whether or not it was the one I'd planned to birth at or not, I didn't care, I just wanted drugs and baby removal. My heart was crushed as we drove by, not stopping, still laboring, still in pain, to our destination. How could they not listen to me? I was a screaming preggo woman who had made a demand!
We did finally make it to the hospital, up the stairs to labor and delivery, to where I walked in, raised my hand, and said, "I want an epidural." They all laughed and asked if I was in labor, if my water had broken. I said, " yes, a couple of hours ago," to which several nurses went blank faced and then jumped up to assist me.
Now, you would think being in a hospital would have relaxed me, but instead it brought on even more anxiety. I had begun bleeding and was really freaked out about it. I was still losing some water, with blood, in pain, contractions coming every minute or so, and was trying to sit still long enough to be examined so that I could even be admitted.
When I got to my room, I again, demanded an epidural. I had so hoped on a natural birth, but the contractions were so strong and so close together, I was completely freaked out about it all. Oddly, no one really spoke to me during this time. I was like a crazed animal trapped in a pin, with scientists studying me, taking notes, but never daring to interact with me.
It took several tries to get my epi, I had 30 minutes of rest, and then the beeping started. My epi was over and yet no one ever realized it.
I do recall one moment when I looked over at my family and they were all reading the newspaper, including my 9 year old son. I personally think they were all simply blocking me out by hiding behind big pieces of paper, but oh well. :)
We had arrived late morning, early afternoon, and by 3:00 p.m. I was ready to push. I pushed once and discovered how painful it actually was. I was on my back with a nurse screaming at me to pull both my legs up to my chest. What??? I was the one pushing out a baby, why the hell was I to have to hold my own legs, which weighed a ton anyway, and still do it all? Here again, I felt alone and freaked out. And, since Jeremy was such a large baby, he was actually having a hard time getting out.
Once he did make his way, he wasn't breathing well. Rather than being able to hold my son, I heard the doctor say, "here, stimulate him," as he passed him off to a nurse. Jeremy scored a 3 on his first APGAR and an 8 on his 2nd. He was placed in an incubator and swiftly taken to the nursery. It was two hours later that I was finally able to hold my baby for the first time. And, even though I'd asked that he not be fed because I wanted to breastfeed him, well, the nurse informed me the big ones like to eat and they had given him a bite or so.
Ok, so, it's not my best birth story, and truly, I still hold this memory as being pretty traumatic, but overall, I got a great little guy out of it all. I can't believe it's been 8 years since he arrived. He weighed 9 lbs and 5 oz. and so LOVED eating. My life consisted of feedings and diaper changes every 1.5 to 2 hours for literally 2 months. You could almost say this kids drained the life out of me. :)