Birth of a Mother (Part 12) The Big Day

Part 12

The Big Day

The next four months passed quickly. I was still a bit nauseous but the medicine was doing it's job and laI finally put on some weight. As the baby got bigger his kicks got stronger and finally, Ian could feel him. He loved to rest his hands on my belly in bed at night. Sometimes, we would just lie there and count kicks and movements. The only problem at seven months was that my back began to hurt between my shoulder blades and eventually I had to sleep sitting up. For a few minutes each night though, I would lay on my side and let my belly touch Ian's back as we spooned. The baby would kick so hard, Ian would feel it in his back. (And I was thinking to myself that it was his turn for a good back ache.)

At eight and a half months, I was certain I was about to give birth. My due date wasn't for another two weeks, Veteran's Day but I could tell something had changed. I had to climb two flights of stairs at work every day and I felt like the baby's head was just about to pop out with each step. My belly felt heavier than usual and it seemed as if I could almost feel his head on my pelvis. I went to the doctor and told him my concerns. I was happy that I got Dr. Smith again. He was very compassionate and never treated me like the neurotic person inside that kicked into high gear during this whole process. He said what I was feeling was entirely normal and that most first babies are born past their due dates. He asked if I wanted him to examine me anyway just to reassure me. Well, of course! He had me pegged pretty well, I'd say.

I was right and I think he was surprised.

I was four centimeters dilated, 100% effaced and at a “0” station. While examining me he paused for a moment and asked “Did you feel that? That, my dear, was a contraction.”

I hadn't felt anything at all but it seemed that my baby was ready.

Dr. Smith offered to augment my labor in the morning if I hadn't gone into active labor by then. I certainly didn't want to chance going from 4 to 10 centimeters and delivering on the way to the hospital so I agreed to check into Labor and Delivery in the morning. I was so close to my due date and in obvious discomfort.

I called Ian right away and told him “You're going to be a daddy tomorrow assuming I don't go into full blown labor this afternoon.”

“Hallelujah!!!!”

So very early the next morning we were the first patients to check into Labor and Delivery. We could hardly believe that in a few hours we were going to be holding our little boy. We had decided after much debate to name him after two of our friends in the shop and Ian's best friend since childhood. Thomas Joseph and we were going to call him Tommy.

The Pitocin was started at seven in the morning.

At nine o'clock, I felt a contraction. Wasn't too bad. I could do this! Carri did this so I can do this! Piece of cake.

By noon, my parents had arrived and labor had started to intensify. My mother kept rubbing my back and Ian kept ahold of my hand. My father disappeared into the waiting room. He hadn't seen any of his own children born and wasn't about to pass on tradition. (Truthfully, he had a queasy stomach and didn't like to see his daughter in pain.)

By 12:30pm I was given the epidural and after that, labor was a breeze.

At 3:45pm I was ready to push.

My husband had always insisted he didn't want to actually see the baby emerge from my body or even cut the cord. He had a weak stomach for most things medical and it had been a source of conflict between us. I contended that there was nothing more miraculous or precious than to see your child born and I didn't want him to miss anything because he feared it would be gorey or gross.

Ian really surprised me!

Just as our son's head popped out I could hear Ian gushing, “Oh. Oh. Wow. Our boy's here! Our boy's here! O God our boy's here! He's perfect! He's beautiful!” Ian was smiling and laughing and happier than I'd ever seen him. Happier than I think he'd ever been in his entire life.

Tommy was born at 4:10pm and he was, indeed, beautiful and perfect.

They laid him against my bare chest and belly and I dissolved into the happiest of tears.

I cooed softly to him “Shhhh. Sweet baby don't cry. Hello Prince Tommy. We are here. Mommy and Daddy are here. We love you, little miracle boy.”

His face was red and scrunched up as he voiced his displeasure at being evicted from his warm quiet home in such a disruptive manner.

The doctor said, “Okay, Tanya, you're not quite done yet. I need you to push the placenta out.”

The baby was still on my chest but I pushed as hard as I could.

“Tanya, you need to push like before,” the doctor said.

“Sir. I am pushing.”

“As hard as before?” he asked a bit incredulously.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tanya, we're going to take the baby for just a moment to see if you can get a liitle more leverage in your pushing.”

I pushed for another few minutes and since the epidural had started wearing off I could feel nothing coming out but warm fluid but I still didn't know anything abnormal was going on.

I pushed for another few minutes and nothing came out except blood.

Ian had left my side right after Tommy came out because he'd had to go to the bathroom since the pushing started. The bathroom was off to my right.

The doctor said “Tanya, we've got a little problem. I'm going to try to fix it right here but it's going to be painful.”

That's when he reached his into the birth canal and went in, it seemed, almost up to his elbow. He scraped his hand in and out trying to dislodge the placenta off my uterus. I was in searing pain.

Just then, my husband came out of the bathroom .

At that moment, the doctor, the nurses, and my mother yelled at him to go back in the bathroom. No one wanted him to see this. The blood had started to flow out faster and faster and I was already feeling dizzy and drowsy.

It was at this point I realized that both my white socks were now sopping with bright red blood. A kindly nurse peeled them off my feet and threw them away.

All at once the room began to buzz with activity.

No one noticed that my husband, hearing everything that was going on from the safety of the bathroom, had fled from the room to the waiting room. My mother was holding my newborn son.

The nurse put something in my IV as the doctor requested my permission for blood transfusions during surgery.

Surgery?

At this point, with the blood loss, the flurry of staff, the bright lights, the demerol taking effect I became very confused.

Where was I going? Why did I need surgery? What was happening to me?

Where's my baby? Where's Ian?

The room swirled above me and a coldness overtook me.

Oh my dear Lord,

Am I dying?