How I Pushed A Baby Out

January 6, 2012 § Leave a comment


My due date came and went, celebrated by a free cupcake from the owner of the cupcakery who felt sorry for the lady who looked like she swallowed the store.


I felt fine, but I was ready to have a freaking baby already.


The whole next week, I sat around wondering how in the hell it had come to this. I went to a concert- and trust me, I looked very cool. I stalked Vicki Keire’s blog and harassed her to finish her second book and give me something to divert my attention from the fact that I was overdue.


We won’t discuss the episode of shame that involved the movie 8MM and me blubbering like Gabe when he dropped his cupcake on the floor of the cupcake store.


So Father’s Day evening I had early labor. I tried to sleep but couldn’t. I think I was just so scared that if I didn’t concentrate really hard that I would will them away. Jinx it, if you will.


Did anyone ever mention that being pregnant makes you certifiably insane? It does me, anyway. Ask Jon.


My midwife, who was wonderful, tells me to go to the hospital at about 7am. Which was way too early. We get to the awesome hospital (which I switched doctors to go to because it had THE MOTHER TUB) and I’m the only woman in labor and delivery. All I thought was, I’m definitely getting a room with a tub.


I was so scared I wouldn’t get the room with THE MOTHER TUB, but all my fears were laid to rest at the feet of a lovely nurse named Angela. She was an older lady with bobbed gray hair, and she was one of those people that seems to keep their ‘girlishness.’ I imagine her to be very similar to her 15 year-old self. This was my nurse throughout the ordeal.


Anyway, she was nice and I wasn’t far enough along. They would let me stay if I’d agree to let them break my water (which I didn’t). My midwife said to go home and take a Benadryl and nap.


Wah wah. The worst part about this is I never wanted to be “one of those ladies” sent home. I wanted to be the one who was crowning but nobody believes her because she is so calm. I just rolled my eyes at myself.


So Jon and I headed home. I felt like I got a few “O Holy Hell” contractions right before we left, but I was already such a poser at that point, I just wanted to go home and bury my head. I got home and popped the Benadryl and then all hell broke loose.


First, Jon was not allowed to make a sound during a contraction, and I also began what I thought I’d never do: I started moaning. Deep sounds are supposed to be soothing, but I thought my hypnobabies training would have helped me to rise above this. There was a point where Jon smirked (which he denies!) and I felt a little self-conscious, but I quickly stopped giving a crap.


So, we were instructed to head back to the hospital and I get there and am WAY farther along. (A 6 for anyone who cares). My midwife said she expected to have a baby within the hour.




We get it filled with warm water. This is supposed to relax me and make the pain go “bye bye!” It is pretty nice, although no magic bullet. I mean, you’re still in labor, people. But it’s better. My mom arrived and got some music going and I went to my special place mentally.


In other words: “I’m in my tree, I’m talking to the Dixie Chicks and they’re making me feel better.” If you know that movie reference, you’re my hero!


Just when I was feeling pretty good about the universe, the water started to get cold. I asked Jon to add some hot water and he tried. No hot water.


It’s cool. I’ll just get out. I was honestly so ‘in the zone’ that I didn’t really care. I got on that damned bouncy ball and I was prepared to bounce a bit. After all, it’s only gonna be an hour, right? Right?


Two years hours later, I somehow became stuck to the bed. I wouldn’t get off of it. My mom was cheering, Jon was cheering, nurse Angela, who I appreciated but didn’t instill much confidence, was cheering me. Nobody has been allowed to touch me except Angela for a long time. She was only allowed because of threats.


I decided I was done. I thought I was in transition a long time ago- I was just so enlightened that it didn’t phase me as much.




I remember thinking “wow, I feel sorry for these poor saps.” (My mother and Jon). They looked like watching me was getting to be traumatic. It was kinda surreal, like “I wish they could leave, this is probably hard on them.”


My midwife came in to see what was up and I hadn’t had any change since she checked me at an 8. Which was hours ago. She offered to break my water and I would’ve agreed to a beheading if it made this creature inside me make its grand exit.


So she does and it doesn’t help.


My mom says something about how we wish there was HOT WATER for the AMAZING TUB. It dawned on me that “hey, I really wanted to be in a hot tub.” I couldn’t even take a hot shower because the water’s screwed up on the floor. My hypnotic state had apparently blocked out all frustration until that point.

At this point “Two roads diverged in a wood” as it were. And I decided that I would not take the road less traveled. Oh no. I’d be taking the one where the grass was worn to the ground, the road traveled by millions of smart American women who know that anybody who passes up an epidural is an idiot. (Not my current thought, but my pain-induced, angry thought).


They tell me I have to get an I.V. first, and then it has to be in for an hour and then, OH F*CK I AM SO SCREWED. All I heard in my head was how many contractions this meant for me.


Here’s what contractions are like: imagine someone starts pumping your insides full of air and just keeps going until you wish you’d just explode. Have you ever seen Princess Bride? Remember the machine used to torture Wesley? I imagine that’s how it felt, but for me it was just from my ribs to my hips. The pain made me shiver then sweat, then squeezed me more until it felt like I’d die. Like a buzzing, gnawing, grinding pain.


It hurt like hell, folks!


But I never screamed. I relaxed and only one time did I really whimper. It’s not because I’m tough or brave. I’m just reasonable. I knew that would only make it worse. I’d read that, and all the information I’d read made me annoyingly informed. Annoying to myself, I think.


When they finally figured something out and got the FRICKIN hot water going in the shower. It was magical. It was soothing and I felt like I might not die! They (apparently) started filling the AMAZING TUB up while I was in this glorious place in my little warm (not hot any more) shower and suddenly I’m back and I can do this!


Somehow they talked me into getting into the tub and seconds after I hit the water I was pushing. Not “feeling some urge” –PUSHING. The midwife freaks and tells me not to do that.


Yeah, right.


So another contraction comes in which I push again, and they drag me out of the water and plop me onto the bed.


One more push and she was in my arms. Literally, because I caught her.


She was so small to me. Smaller than Gabe. I was so tired and a little freaked out so I had trouble focusing on just her. I wanted to just lay and hold her.


She was 9 pounds 14 ounces. Yeah, that’s what I said. I’m a 125 pound female. I gained exactly 30 pounds with each pregnancy. She was a week late- but seriously. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!


Everything was great. I wouldn’t change a thing except maybe the HOT WATER.


But that’s the story of how my daughter (I still love saying that), Hadley Jane, came to be on this planet.


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