Not Another Birthing Story

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