Happy Birthday

Four and a half hours doesn’t sound like a lot of time. It is half a working day marking time for lunch. It is a drive to central Oregon. It is a flash in time. However, in terms of birthing it is a lifetime. It is 270 minutes or 16,200 seconds of slowly passing moments.

I enjoyed a nice shower and protein rich breakfast before the Pitocin drip stared at 9:00 am. My greatest fear in eating or drinking was that I would experience nausea as I did when I labored with Kaden. It is one of the few memories of my first labor forever etched in my brain. I admit that much of my first labor and delivery escapes my memory. I know the experience was extreme. I do remember snippets, but overall I have actually repeated out loud, “It wasn’t that bad.” I must be experiencing labor amnesia.

The first hour went with ease. It was sixty minutes of conversation with Adam, Mom and Auntie Lynda. We took a stroll around the ward laughing and chatting. I focused on how close I was to enjoying a Margarita. Of course not any marg would do. To really get the party started it needs to be my trademark marg, which is like a taste of sunshine in a glass. It is enjoyed on the rocks, no salt with a splash of OJ and a floater of Amaretto on the side. Seriously, I think maternity wards should have a bar. It would make birthing much more of a celebration.

10:30 came quickly. Becky (our midwife) came into to check my progress. I was slowly progressing. She offered to break my bag of waters. I vowed if she made this recommendation I would do it. It moves labor into delivery quicker. I was chicken. I told her to come back in an hour. Why ruin our good time, right?

An hour later she broke my bag of waters. Amazingly it was as releasing this fluid actually flooded my memory. I began to drown in the realization that natural labor was the most difficult emotional and physical experience of my life. I want to scream, “Put it back in! I changed my mind!” It is too late. It is done and regardless I am going to have to face the fact: this baby was coming and I am not drugged.

We take my Pitocin pole and cruise around the ward. It is a different journey this go round. We still laugh, but every third step a contraction interferes. Each is stronger than the last having me reach for the wall swaying my hips back and forth. I make a true effort to keep my chin up and attitude positive. I am cracking jokes and even pole dancing around my IV. It helps keep me afloat in my flood.

It is noon and the energy is intense in my delivery room. I am officially traveling through hell because it is so hot in my room. I had the heat turned off and a fan pointed towards me. This is not like me, for I hate wind in my face. I look up over my bed and see Adam across from me. He has put his sweatshirt back on with the hood up over his head. I hear it is really Antarctica in my room- freezing cold. The midwife explains once the baby delivers the fan must be turned off.

Becky and my nurse don’t leave my side. The three of us stand at my bedside. Becky is beside me keeping me focused. I am leaning over the side of my bed. I want to stand. I rotate and sway my hips through each contraction. I scream. I cry, “I can’t do it. I can’t.” Becky brings me back and tells me that I can and I will. The nurse is a God sent. Her name: Sara. She put all of her weight in the fist of her hand keeping pressure on my lower back. Mom was at the foot of the bed. I white knuckled her hand for what seemed like hours. Adam was directly across me. He was a great focal point. I could see Auntie L across the way being supportive in her presence waiting for a ‘job’ any ‘job’ to keep her busy. She relieved the nurse.

It is 1:00. I scream, “Oh my God. Shit. Oh my God. Oh my God. The baby is going to drop out!” This is when I feel Sprite drop. We are headed into action- the front lines of labor. It was the most painful feeling. Becky checked me. To my surprise the baby was not going to ‘drop out’. I was at a nine. Holy moly this isn’t what I felt when I labored with Kaden. I started to think about an epidural or some narcotic. Becky whispers in my ear, “You can do this. We will do this.”

The contractions are insane. The pressure feels like my back will rip open. It won’t stop burning. My insides have to be shredded. I am bent over my bedside and Teresa, my mother-in-law enters the room. The poor lady has entered laboring torture. In mid scream I collect myself to greet her with a sweet, “Hi, Teresa.”

I want someone to push my face into the pillows until all is quiet. Becky checks my progression. It is time to get me into bed…NOW. I can only think about burying my own face in the pillows. It is a killer to climb into bed with the contractions as strong as they were being felt. I was starting to give up. I didn’t want to get into bed. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It just hurt. I was voting to have the baby just fall out and caught.

It is 1:10 and time to begin delivery. This means my legs are up for all to view my glory. How embarrassing, but the truth is I didn’t care. I didn’t think about who was seeing my body and most private area. There is one goal and it is to get this baby out. If one of my visitors had offered to reach on in and grab the Sprite in one swift move I would have without hesitation accepted!

I have to admit the next 22 minutes are unclear.

I think Grandma Church entered the icebox of labor hell when I was pushing. The pressure and sensation of being split in half was overpowering. I didn’t feel the baby deliver as I did with Kaden. I remember hyperventilating from the force, which I was given an oxygen mask. It smelt terrible; I kept fighting it off and removing it. Adam had to use his mind over my request and keep it over my nose and mouth. Well, that and Becky firmly told him to keep it on my face. At the time we didn’t realize the intense pain and extreme discomfort was because Ashton’s head was diagonally placed. He was not facing the rear (as babies should be). He wasn’t sunny side up. It was worse. His head was at a diagonal. Ouchie-wa-wa.

The nurse is becoming anxious. Becky became more intense. We came to learn it was due to the heart rate dropping. It was go time… She had me deliver in two more pushes. The cord was wrapped around his neck.

At 1:32 pm we welcomed our second son into our family and the world. Adam cut the cord and I held him on my chest. I held in my arms a little piece of ‘us’.

It took 30 minutes to complete the rest of the delivery; and I was eager to learn no repair was needed.

Once I was ready we welcomed Curt, Josh, Brooklyn, Les and Ed into the room. We asked our visitors to get into a circle to greet Ashton. We explained we were doing a wish circle. We passed Ashton around the circle person-by-person bestowing a wish upon him for his life. The family ate his birthday cake as we packed up so we could leave the delivery room.

I was wheeled into our recovery/family room. It was surreal to know I had just labored and had a child. I was exhausted and starving. As I was getting settled into my bed Adam sits on the couch. He looks at me and says, “Baby, I want to have another baby.”

And the conversation of having a third child begins three hours or 180 minutes after the delivery of our second child…