Birth of Your Child
Submitted by: Cricket’s Hearth
Having a baby for most women is such a natural and easy life event. They just do “it” with the love of their life, or sometimes an acquaintance, and nine months later out pops a beautiful baby wrapped in either a pink or blue blanket. For me, having a baby was not so easy. Getting pregnant was easy – as a life skill, I had a master’s degree in the conceiving part – but carrying a baby to full term proved to be more difficult.
I was only sixteen years old when I became pregnant for the first of my six pregnancies. My mother was of the belief that not telling her children the facts of life would somehow insulate them from consequences of not knowing. I was almost five months pregnant before I discovered what was making me so sick in the afternoons. Since I did not have the normal morning sickness, those knowledgeable about these things did not suspect either. Once the discovery was made, a quick wedding was planned and I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, with a slight bulge in my midriff that would become my Achilles’ heel.
Three weeks after my wedding day I went into labor. Once again, my lack of knowledge of these things led me astray and I believed I was just having the worst backache of my life. I spent an entire day alone and in pain waiting for my husband to get home from work so he could give me a backrub to ease the gut-wrenching pain. His foot massage had worked wonders on my aching feet a few days before, so I felt confident he would come to my rescue again. I was never so happy to see 4:45pm on a clock in my life as I did on July 17, 1968. John spent the evening rubbing my back but the pain would not stop and actually got worse. By 10pm, and after a call to my mother and to his mother, and then to my doctor, I was taken to the hospital – I was in labor even though I was only 26 weeks along in my pregnancy. Four hours later I gave birth to a one pound nine ounce baby girl that I was never permitted to see. My doctor and my husband decided I was too young and too weak to endure seeing her and holding her, only to watch her die a few hours later. I was kept sedated and when I finally woke up I was told Lorenda Sue had died. Although she was fully developed on the outside, her lungs and heart were not ready to function on their own. In all my life, I have never seen anything so sad as that tiny little closed coffin. Not much bigger than a man’s boot box, it served as a symbol to my inadequacy as a woman, my uterus was so small it would prove difficult to carry a baby to full term.
Just over one year later, the day after Neil Armstrong took the first step for mankind on the moon, I learned I was pregnant for the second time. I was so excited that I wore a maternity top, even though it was not needed at only 8 weeks, to meet my husband at the door with the good news. Four weeks later, the day before my 18th birthday, I became very ill and had a miscarriage. I soon learned to despise that word. Five months later, after having only known I was six-weeks pregnant for two days, I had another miscarriage. Getting pregnant was not the problem, my “failure to attain” a full-term pregnancy was. Four months later, in early May of 1970, I was pregnant again for the fourth time in two years. I was almost too afraid to become excited about the prospect of becoming a mother. One week later, after telling our good news yet once again to our families, Uncle Sam decided to take the focus off my pregnancy and put it on my husband by way of a draft notice. Ten days later I watched my husband board a bus for a trip to boot camp that would eventually lead to a plane to Vietnam.
Being that I had a “high risk pregnancy,” I was convinced (although told is a more accurate description) to move back home with my parents. It really didn’t matter at the time where I lived. I was in too much of a shock at having my husband taken away just when I had learned I was pregnant again to put up too much of a fight. I watched the news every night and feared that my husband would be shipped off to Vietnam and he would never see our baby – if in deed I was able to actually have a baby. I do think my living at home contributed to my being able to carry our daughter well past full term. My father absolutely forbade me to pick up anything. And I mean anything. I was not permitted to even carry a glass of water. I was not allowed to help with any housework and he even got upset at the idea of a baby shower and my “lifting” a present to my lap to open it. My “due date” was his birthday, November 15, and he was on a mission to make sure he received his gift - his first grandchild. So he pampered me and just about drove everyone else in the household crazy for the next seven months.
November 15 came and went. Thanksgiving came and went. In early December my husband came home on a 30-day leave. What I did not know at the time was my doctor had petitioned the Army to allow John a leave due to “my medical condition”. John had received his orders for Vietnam in late October but talked with his superiors about “our situation”. Between a very understanding and caring Sergeant, and my “I’m not taking no for an answer” doctor, John was permitted to remain stateside until I had the baby. Of course the Army had the understanding I was due in mid-November and they should have another body waiting for his bag ready to send to Vietnam by Thanksgiving. When I didn’t cooperate, or I should say, our baby didn’t cooperate, the Army gave the final word, John would leave on January 3rd for Vietnam regardless of what happened with my pregnancy. My doctor was convinced that he had somehow miscalculated my due date. Christmas came and went. I was so big I could hardly walk. Finally, in the early morning hours of December 29, 1970 I gave birth to a six-week old baby girl who weighed 9 pounds even. John and I both cried when the doctor laid Kelli Rae on the outside of my belly. It was a miracle- she was alive! And she was big. She rolled over in her bassinet when she was just 14 hours old. The doctor was amazed and could not stop apologizing for allowing me to go six weeks past my due date. But I didn’t care. All I knew was I finally had a beautiful, healthy baby girl with a head full of dark curly hair. Five days later John boarded a plane for Vietnam.
Submitted by: Irishcoda of Snapshot Memories
A Slice Of Life: Billy
Soon my son Bill will be 21 years old and yet I remember his birth as if it was just the other day. One thing I remember clearly is the baby pool taking place at work. My first husband, Rich, and I worked for the same market research company up until about 2 weeks before I was due. My due date was May 1, 1987, but people were guessing as early as April 1 and as late as Mother’s Day.
Rich was one of the latter and I was horrified. “I’m ready NOW,” I kept saying to him. “How could you have picked that day?”
He shrugged. “I just have a feeling,” he said.
May 1st came and went and I was disappointed but not surprised. First babies are always late; however, I was more and more uncomfortable as each day passed. My midwife, Ellen, advised me to keep walking.
On May 8, a Friday, I set out to walk, lost my balance and fell hard on my hands and knees–right in front of the mailman, who totally freaked out. He helped me back to my apartment where Rich took over and cared for my badly skinned knees. Bandaged and wearing a new set of maternity jeans, I set out again. A block down, I ran into the same mailman.
“What are you doing?” he cried. “You’re going to give me a heart attack!”
“I’m having this baby,” I told him. “If I don’t have this baby by Sunday, on Monday I have to be induced.” Oh, horrors!
The following afternoon, May 9th, my water broke while Rich was at work. I was totally unhappy about that because I’d learned in childbirth class what that meant: go to the hospital. I didn’t want to … yet. I wanted the contractions to start. I called Rich and Ellen. Ellen said I could stay home only until 7 p.m. and then I had to get to the hospital. Meanwhile, I walked in circles.
My contractions still hadn’t started by the time we got to the hospital. Ellen agreed to let me walk around the floor another 2 hours but then she had to follow the rules and have them start a pit drip (induction of labor). Oh, how I dreaded that…I’d learned that the contractions would come hard and fast!
Unfortunately, by 9 my contractions were still mild and I’d dilated only to 3 cm and so they would have to induce me. Yes, the contractions were hard to manage and very painful but I have to say I had the best coach in the world. I would not have been able to endure it without an epidural were it not for Rich’s steadfast support. Every time I’d start to lose control, he’d say “Look at me, look at me” and then he’d begin breathing. I focused on him and breathed along with him.
Some funny things I remember from that night:
When I had to bend my knees to start pushing, the nurse took one look at my knees and freaked. “What happened to you?” she wanted to know. She wanted to redress the scrapes. I kept telling them I was fine and leave me alone.
When I got to the transitional stage, I kept falling asleep between contractions. It was so weird.
Another woman was admitted to the hospital soon after I was and we both had the same doctor. Actually, Ellen was in attendance but since she hadn’t been credentialled at that hospital yet she wasn’t allowed to “catch” the baby. For some reason, they put this lady way down at the end of the hall. We both began pushing at the same time and I could hear my chubby doctor running from one end of the hall to the other.
“Who’s going to go first?” the nurse asked him.
Already I’d been pushing almost 2 hours and Billy was just beginning to crown.
“This one,” the doctor decided. He ran into the room and began pushing on my abdomen.
I had enough presence of mind to be totally surprised and annoyed. I didn’t complain, though, because Ellen had already saved me from a C-section. The doctor wanted to do one because he felt I wasn’t progressing fast enough.
Doctors.
So Billy was born at 4:23 and the doctor ran down the hall to the other lady. Her baby was born less than 5 minutes later.
It was Mother’s Day.
Rich won the pot and I got a rose at each and every meal. Best of all, we had a brand new, perfect little boy.
“Billy Bear,” I whispered to him when I finally got to hold him.
He is the best Mother’s Day present I will ever get.
Submitted by: greatfullivin
It was 6 pm on a Friday evening in early June 1973. I picked up the phone and called my mother. I was having some unusual pain. Nothing regular, no hard contractions but heck, I was a young girl and had no idea what a contraction felt like. I can’t say I was particularly ready for a baby to arrive, at least not like the young people are today, they read everthing available on giving birth, I hadn’t. I had listened to my Mother and my family Doctor, that was about it. I was to call when I went into labor so I called my Mother with my unusual pain and she came over to sit with me. My husband was at work and would not be home until 11:30.
My Mother and I sat all evening timing pains to see if this was indeed labor. The pain would be regular for a little while and then it would just go away. My husband got home from work. He was surprised to see my Mother there and I think a little disappointed I hadn’t called him home from work. The pain I felt was never regular so we all finally decided it wasn’t labor after all. My Mother went home around midnight. We sat up and watched some late night tv. I decided to get to bed around 2:00 am. I had to get up at 6:00, not because I wanted to but for the last nine months nature called at precisely 6:00 am every morning. I was beat and my pain had stopped… so off to dreamland we went.
I was up at 6:00 (surprise!) and went to attend to nature, as I crawled back in the bed I sat up to straighten the blankets when suddenly…..Whoosh! What was that? My water had broken …all over the bed, sigh. We got up and I quickly bathed and got dressed while hubby called the doctor and my mother. Labor and very hard contractions started within the hour. We went right away to the hospital as doc had told us to do.
Now this is my very first experience with a hospital. We arrived before 7:00 am, they put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me away to maternity while hubby stayed to do the paperwork. Back then we had “labor rooms” which were just painted block with a bed. No window, no sweet music playing, no comfortable chairs,no telephone, no tv, just a bed and some medical equipment. This was a very small hospital in a very small town in the heart of Amish country. I don’t know if that made a difference but I was definately not in a “birthing suite”. As we approached the labor rooms I could hear this woman screaming at the top of her lungs, just screaming in pain. Okay, now I am afraid. They prepped me for delivery and I have to tell you, no one bothered to mention the razor to me…ugh. By the time they had finished with me, the screaming lady had stopped so I asked about her, thinking she must have had her baby. They sent her home with false labor! False labor??? What the heck is that? I remember thinking, if that wasn’t the real thing I may be in trouble here. Okay, Now I am REALLY afraid…..
I layed in that hospital room for ever. This baby wasn’t due untill June 21st and it was only the 10th. The 10th…the day of my baby shower. I missed all the fun. Here I am lying in this awful labor room, writhing in pain, missing my beautiful baby shower. Taking the pain meds they kept giving me, which didn’t seem to help very much. They did not give you a choice back then, you just did what they told you to do. I was young and uninformed so I just obeyed. It was a very long hot day and I wasn’t getting any closer to giving birth. It was just after shift change at 11:00 pm a nurse came in and put me on a guerney, they were taking me to x-ray. I wasn’t very wise to the ways of the world back then but I did know you do not x-ray a pregnant woman. I also had the Rh factor which I did not know much about, other than I would not be allowed to breast feed and they may have to transfuse the baby. X-ray on top of all that was just too much for a young girl to deal with. I began to cry. Once the tears started they were hard to shut off. I was in pain, getting a dangerous x-ray, the Rh factor, it was hot , uncomfortable and I had missed my own baby shower. Through my tears I somehow got the courage to ask the nurse why they were taking me to x-ray. She told me she was not supposed to tell me… but then quickly said, “don’t tell anyone I said anything” and she went on to say, they could not find the heartbeat! I was crushed! She tried to reasure me it could be lots of things, just the way the baby is laying, the baby could be breach, they just thought it was best to know.
It turned out it was just the way the baby was laying, thank GOD! They also said my water had sealed back up. They got me back to the uncomfortable little labor room and came in with a huge needle to break my water again. Things went quickly after that. At 2:00 am June 11th 1973 I became the proud parent of an adorable 7 lb. 6 oz. baby girl.
It will soon be 35 years ago but I remember it like yesterday. My daughter has been the greatest source of joy and the deepest source of grief. I think it is just because you feel your children more than any other. I know that is a day or two days that I will never forget. I was frightened and uninformed. I have never found myself in that position again, being totally uninformed and at the mercy of others. I began a quest for knowledge that exists to this day. I always have to know ….WHY?
Submitted by: Morgan at My Place of Beauty
Birth of the Children
Zachary:
“Ow,ow,ow,” I said to Sparky, as tears welled up in my eyes, “I can’t stand this. They hurt.”
“Well, honey. What do you want to do? We’ve been to the hospital twice, they’ve sent you home.”
“I want ice cream,” I said, moving to ease the pain.
“Let’s go to the mall,” he said, “we’ll get ice cream and you can walk around and hopefully that’ll make your water break, ok?”
“Ok.” I said, smiling for the first time in two days, tired of dealing with constant contractions.
We went to the mall and got ice cream. I ate about half of mine before I felt really, really sick and said, “It’s time. It has to be time.”
“Let’s go,” Sparky said, grabbing my arm and helping me waddle out of the mall, stopping during contractions.
I sat down in the car and pushed the seat flat, so I could lie down. “Do we have everything?” I asked, looking in the backseat.
“Yes, hon. We do.”
“Ok,” I said, as Sparky got onto the interstate and punched the gas.
“Don’t speed. The nurse said it could take days,” I said, as I started to cry. Days, I thought, days? What the hell?
“Ok, close your eyes, honey. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
When we got to the hospital, we went to the Labor and Delivery, and I sat in the waiting room, expecting it to take hours like last time. It didn’t.
I waddled into the triage room and got up on the table. The nurse checked me and said, “Your water broke, but you are still only a couple of centimeters dilated. Would you like to–”
“No, I want a room, I want an epidural and I want to sleep. Please,” I begged, “please, I need sleep. It’s been 2 days.”
“Ok,” the nurse said, “let’s get you checked in.”
It was Sept. 18 at 7 PM, and I was about to pull all of my hair out.
“Can I please, please have an epidural?” I asked when the nurse got me situated on the bed.
“Sure can, honey. Let me call the anesthesiologist. You are very lucky, I think he’s still up here, so you won’t have to wait long.”
I breathed in and smiled. I was trying to be nice and not chew this womans head off, but I was on my last nice-nerve.
“Thank you. Please call him.”
Within 10 minutes the anesthesiologist was in my room and telling me how to sit.
Sparky had to hold me down, because I was thinking about the needle going in my back and about to cry.
“Ma’am,” the anesthesiologist (we’ll call him Frank) said, “I am only going to give you half the normal dose, so we can see how your body takes it blah, blah, blah….. ok?”
“Sure, Frank, whatever,” I said through gritted teeth.
“It’ll feel a little cold.”
A little cold my ass. I thought that the man had dropped an iceberg on my back, it was so cold. I yelped and squirmed a little. They laid me back on the bed, and I was in heaven. The world was spinning and I told them I felt a bit dizzy. Frank smiled and told me to sniff the alcohol pad he had in his hand. It brought me back a bit to the real world, just in time to hear Frank say he wasn’t going to give me a whole dose for fear that I might pass out, and he’d be back in a few hours to give me the rest of the dosage. I smiled and said, “I love you, Frank,” to him as he walked away.
I slept. Sleep was wonderful. I don’t remember sleeping, but Sparky says I was O-U-T!
A couple of hours later, I was feeling my legs again and barely feeling the contractions. I pressed the button the nurse gave me. It didn’t work. I called the nurse in and told her I was feeling things and by gosh, I shouldn’t have to feel labor, so give me some drugs now dammit. Or something along those lines. It may have been nicer.
“I will call Frank and see when he can come up here, ok?”
“Ok,” I said, remembering the drugs that were so wonderful, feeling the contractions even harder.
Frank came in an hour later with more of the wonder-drug. He put it in the little tube from my back and handed me an alcohol pad. “If you get dizzy, sniff this, ok?”
I smiled and said “thank you” a hundred times as he backed out of the room.
A student nurse came in and asked if she could watch the birth. I told her “I don’t give a crap,” and smiled. She was pregnant. I apologized to her a hundred times during the pushing, I told her at the end “I hope I didn’t scare you.”
An hour later the nurse was waking me up, telling me it was time to push. I stared at her. “Push?” I asked. “Really?”
“Yes, I just checked you and you are 10 cm. dilated and the baby is ready.”
I stared at her. “Where is Sparky?”
“He went down to make a phone call. He’ll be right back.”
“Can’t we wait?”
“No, hon. You need to start pushing now, ok?”
“How do I do it?”
“Just pretend like you are going to the bathroom.”
There wasn’t any “pretend” needed, if you know what I’m saying.
I started pushing at 7 am on September 19 (after 3 days of labor) and at 7:47 AM, my big 9 lb 1 oz Zachary was born. They rushed him off for tests while I cursed at the nurse stitching me up. Then, I apologized a million times. Finally, they handed me my baby, and I turned into a water faucet.
Lillie:
“Wake up, Morgan, it’s time to go.”
“It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, Sparky. I don’t want to go.”
“You’re going to have Lillie today, honey. You have to go.”
“So early?”
“The nurse said to be there by 6, don’t you want breakfast?”
“No.”
“You won’t get to eat until after, you know that.”
“I know, ok. Let’s get going.” I said, rolling out of bed and waddling to the shower.
Another late baby, I thought, geesh. Why can’t my kids come on time, or early even?
I felt a little liquid between my legs before the shower and told Sparky that my water was breaking or had probably broken, and I would try to hurry up in the shower.
While I was in the shower, I started to feel small, easy contractions, about every 2 or 3 minutes.
We got my mom up, went to Denny’s and ate breakfast and then on to the hospital. We got there at 6 AM, and I felt a little nervous twitch in my tummy. I hadn’t had to be induced with Zachary, I had him on the day I was supposed to be induced, and I didn’t want to be induced this time. I wanted to do everything naturally.
When I got to my delivery room, the nurse was very rude and rough with the lady parts. She rolled her eyes and said, “Your water broke. Why weren’t you here sooner?” I smiled and said, “I thought it had, but I wasn’t sure. I wanted breakfast first. I’m sorry.” But I wasn’t really, I was excited, I wouldn’t have to be induced!
“Well, we’ll just have to hope nothing is wrong with the baby.”
Wrong with the baby, I thought, why would there be something wrong?
Right after she hooked up my IV in the worst possible place (my wrist) and let Sparky and my mom back in the room, the midwife showed up. She smiled at me and said, “Let’s take this IV off and get you in the tub, how does that sound?”
“Wonderful,” I said, “wonderful.”
“How do the contractions feel?”
“They don’t hurt at all,” I said, smiling.
“Good.”
For 8 hours the contractions barely hurt, they came steady — every 3 minutes, and I used the birthing ball, got in the tub (twice) and got to walk up and down the hall for 2 hours. She let me eat McDonald’s, and she let me drink something other than water.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I couldn’t walk, and the pain was horrible.
“Please, can I have something for the pain?” I asked as the midwife checked me again.
“I’m sorry, you can’t. You are 10 cm dilated and it’s time to push.”
“No, please, don’t make me.” I said, crying.
It wasn’t the pain, it was the anticipation of pain that was bothering me.
“It’s ok. We’re all right here for you,” mom said. I looked at her and begged her for medication.
“You don’t really want it, Morgan,” Sparky said, “you know you don’t.”
I wanted to kill him at that moment.
30 minutes after the first push, Lillie was born. She was a tiny looking 9 lbs 1 oz. She came out screaming and kicking. As a matter of fact I screamed “She kicked me” as she came out, because, well, she did.
The midwife let her lie on my belly for a few minutes before letting the nurses take her away. Lillie screamed and screamed until her daddy went and stood by her and whispered to her, she hushed quickly and looked up at him. A daddy’s girl from day one.
Submitted by Jen’s Humble Opinion:
Birth of your child.
I have two. The first child’s story began with last week’s Slice of Life with the robbery.(under the marriage proposal meme)
The rest of the birth was long, painful, and at moments, just plain funny.
I was scheduled to be induced at 7:00am the morning of March 30, 1994. They started the drip at 9:00am and they kept bringing student nurses in for observation. Those poor girls. They would ask questions like, “What stage of labour is she in now?” I’m sitting there, being yelled at by a nurse for eating and trying to get my apple down as fast as I can before she gets mad enough to rip it out of my hand. I’m holding up the number one so the students can have an answer.
Then the hard labour stage hits like a tonne of bricks. Who said this was a miracle? Who made the rules that this was the most beautiful experience? Idiots. I yelled, screamed, and wouldn’t let Hubby sit down. I made him hold my hand and every time he took a break because I had fallen asleep between contractions (so tired from not sleeping with a house full of cops) I would wake up and beg for him to come hold my hand again. Rub her back the nurses would say, don’t touch me I would say. NEVER AGAIN!!!
I rolled myself back and forth for the demurral to get to both legs. The idiot missed putting in my epidural at first and I screamed so bad that Hubby had to be held back by several nurses.
Then my Mom came to the rescue. I threw up and cried that I’m NEVER GETTING PREGNANT AGAIN and she held the container and told me, “It’ll be alright. I said that after all four of you kids.” She gave Hubby a break to run out and get something to eat and drink. He doesn’t do well with stomach upset. If he sees someone throwing up, he just joins in. That’s no help at all.
When that stage was finished, Mom took her break and told me not to have the baby without her. Two minutes after she walked out of the room, I flipped onto my back and told Hubby point blank, “This baby is coming NOW! Go get the nurse.”
He looked out into the hallway and seeing no one, came back into the room and started doing jumping jacks at the end of the bed in sheer panic. He was calm up to this point, really! He was yelling, “DON’T PUSH. NO NURSES. WHATEVER YOU DO DON’T PUSH!!!”
I started laughing at him. “Go find a nurse then.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know where, just go find one or hold out your hands to catch him.”
“DON’T PUSH!”
“You don’t push a watermelon that wants to come out, it just comes out! Now go GET A NURSE!”
He came back a minute later having found them down the hall, delivering another lady’s baby with all the student nurses observing. I was informed at their arrival that the baby isn’t ready yet and to just wait. I’m not a shy person. I whipped off my covers and pointed, “Is that not ready?”
“Get her in now.” The nurses sprang into action.
I could see his eyebrows before even getting into the delivery room. I pushed and groaned and screamed and at one point, stopped and commented, “He has lots of hair.” I was informed to keep pushing.
He came out facing me. That is when we found out that I had an inverted uterus. Front to back-back to front. That explains why some of the nurses couldn’t feel my labour and had hooked up a machine to me earlier.
Hubby was the first to hold him. Then me, then I gave him to Mom. She made it back in the room just as we were being handed J for the first time and I was nursing him.
“I asked you to wait for me.” she says.
“You snooze, you lose.”
My second child was much less dramatic. I went for my monthly check up and the OBY said, “See you later tonight, you are 2 cm dilated.”
Sure enough at 4:00am the next morning, I went in. I was there for three days! Three days of labour and nothing to eat but broth and ice cubes. I was so bored and I had no pain. The pain stopped around 6:00am that first morning. My eldest stayed at my sister’s house and Hubby took time off work and stayed with me at the hospital. He was extremely bored also.
At the time of the nurses’ shift change on August 11, 1999, I had Hubby sneak me in a Big Mac! I ate without breathing or chewing. I was so hungry. At the last bite, my water broke, and they called my OBY. I was begging for something for the pain. I went straight to transitional labour.
After three days of no pain, suddenly I could see the room whirling. I went on my hands and knees and the nurses kept telling me I was being ridiculous. I’m trying to speak between pains and explain my uterus is inverted, all the pain is in the back for me. They hadn’t checked my file yet because of the shift change. (I wonder if that would have made a difference) My OBY walked in and ordered a pain killer for me. It didn’t kick in until after I delivered. From the point of my water breaking and delivery, it was a whole hour.
I could have stayed home and just gone in for an hour. T was born three weeks early and he threw his tiny arms over his head and let out a little waah. I said, “Oh Honey, he looks like a little Godfather.” My OBY laughed at that one. Then the painkiller started working and I was all smiles.
People are right. Birth truly is a miracle and a beautiful experience.
