It seems women like to tell me their
babies’ birth stories and ask me about my deliveries. The truth is I don’t really like recounting
mine. Maybe it’s my aversion to pain. I have a friend who says she loved the birth
experience. I have no idea what to say
to this.
Turns out I do remember a few pivotal
moments in my story. First, I remember
being very pregnant and going to childbirth classes. I can still hear one of my fellow classmates,
who delivered weeks early, telling the class her story. Her and her husband sat facing our class
holding their beautiful baby boy. She
was all smiles. She recounted the
delivery like a fairy tale. The pain was
comparable to “mild abdominal cramps”. Her whole experience lasted about thirty
minutes from start to finish. The whole
class seemed to walk out that night with a sentiment close to, “Bring it on!”
With my first
pregnancy I went into labor naturally. Tim
and I arrived at the hospital very early on a dark, winter morning. The nurse assured me that I would not be sent
home. For this, I was deliriously
happy. I was smiling and telling Tim over
and over this was really happening. We are
here to have a baby!
My mind has locked in some of the
moments.
During my labor I squeezed Tim’s hand beyond
tightly and never wanted him to leave my side. This turned out to be difficult for him since
I labored for 27 hours.
I remember how the earlier mentioned childbirth
classes’ breathing techniques did come in handy. I remember us strongly reciting in unison
the “he, he, who, he, he, who, HE, HE,
WHOs”. If nothing else it provided
some comic relief. At one point, as I
was laying in bed, a cold wash cloth slipping off my forehead, an oxygen mask
on my face, and the “he, he, who’s”
ringing in our ears…Tim started to smile and I had a quick comeback of “Are you laughing at me?!” I think at that point I started laughing or
crying, I’m not sure which. Quite a bit
of it is a blur, mixed with crying, not much laughing, and some “Dear, Jesus, please help me.”
I still wonder why the teacher of our childbirth class chose the lady with the
easy, breezy story to share her testimonial with the class. She said it was to prepare us all for what we
might encounter in the birthing room. If she would have asked me to go back to the
classroom, full of very pregnant women (and their support partners), I would
look into all these desperate faces, some with apparent anxiety, and say the “he, he, whos” definitely did come in
handy. I would show them my baby and
smile. Would I tell them it had felt like the
baby was going to be birthed through my back?
Maybe I’d keep that part to
myself. Maybe I would tell them I have
no idea what you will face in there but you can do it. Maybe I’d recite a mantra fitting for a
warrior.
Grace Marion was born
on November 27, 2002, at 4:19 in the morning.
Her first cry was one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. I broke down and cried a cry of joy and
relief from deep within me. It is a
moment I will never forget.
I spent Thanksgiving
Day in the hospital. A nurse brought me
a piece of pumpkin pie.
I remember
eating my pie. I remember looking at my
baby girl and being overwhelmed with thankfulness. And I’m pretty sure I said right there and
then I would do it all over again.
~Kate
