A Star Is Born

Friday, August 14 was pretty much like any other summer Friday at work. I was supposed to get off at 3:30, but was still plugging away at 4pm, working on someone else's project. I had, however, had a bit of discomfort that day. But I was 37 weeks pregnant and that was the first day I felt big and uncomfortable, so I couldn't really complain. Except that I was late going to get my mom. I had invited her over for a girls' weekend before the baby was born. We were going to go see The Time Traveler's Wife, get pedicures, wash a final load of baby laundry, pack my hospital bag, and do other miscellaneous girl-stuff. It was late when I finally got to mom's, and I was having twinges in my stomach on the way back to my house. I figured it was my first bout of Braxton-Hicks and jokingly told her that I hope she knew how to drive a stick shift in case my water broke.

Matt had made kebabs for dinner. We were still at the table (and I was having some ice cream) when I got up to go to the bathroom. No sooner had I sat down when I felt a rush of liquid pour out. I let out a little laugh, finished, washed up, walked back into the dining room, and announced, "Okay, let's go pack my suitcase."

They both looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"Let's go pack my suitcase," I repeated, nice and calm. "I think my water just broke."

They still just sort of stared at me. I had to confirm that yes, my water had broke. And my pants were getting soaked. So we needed to pack. my. suitcase. And that started the madcap rushing about the house. (Fortunately, I had a list and Matt had gotten my suitcase out of the attic that afternoon.)

We got to the hospital around 10:30. I checked in up front and got settled in the triage room. We had the nicest nurse, Heather, and a great midwife. My exam showed that I was already 5 cm dilated but that the baby wasn't far enough down the birth canal, so I'd have to stay on my back until she was, to prevent cord prolapse. I was hooked up to two external monitors: one to monitor my contractions and the other to monitor the baby. Heather would ask how my contractions were. I'd tell her I wasn't having any. She'd point at the spike in the printout and tell me I was indeed having contractions.

Just before midnight, I was moved to a birthing suite. We hung out for about an hour, and since I was feeling little discomfort (and the nurses said I'd probably give birth between 7am and lunchtime), Matt went home to feed Angel, turn off the lights we left on, get his own bag, and to get some of the classical CDs I had requested. My doctor was on vacation, and the doctor on call had figured she could stay home for a few more hours.

By the time he got back, I was finally having "real" contractions. Continuous contractions, one on top of another. All I wanted to do was get up and move around, but since Evelyn wasn't low enough in the birth canal, I was stuck on my back which is pretty much the worst position a laboring mother can be in. Matt wanted to know how long I could go before an epidural was out of the question. My mom asked that I be examined again. My nurse, Darlene checked. Then she called in another nurse, to double-check. Then they called the doctor on call to tell her she needed to get there asap. Then they called the chief resident, because they figured the doctor may not make it.

And I decided about then that I had to push. Darlene and the chief resident tried to encourage me to breathe through it. I asked if it was because I wasn't ready, or because the doctor wasn't there yet. The look on their faces told me it was the latter. So I went ahead and bore down a little with the contractions. Within a few minutes the doctor arrived, scrubbed and ready, and told me I could push with the contractions.

Matt described what happened then (and much like my shockingly easy pregnancy, don't expect your labor to go this well):

At the next contraction, I started to push. Evelyn's head crowned. Mom tells me I became very religious at that point.

At the second contraction, I pushed again, delivering her head and shoulders. I vaguely remember screaming, "GET HER OUT!"

At the third contraction, they did indeed get her out, and flopped her on my stomach. Seriously, that was it. Three pushes. And Evelyn looked up at me as if to say, "PUT ME BACK IN!"

I remember feeling confused. Why is there a baby on my stomach? Why does she look like she knows me? Did I really just make that little person?? And before I could figure it all out, Matt had cut the cord and they took her away to take her vitals and put her in a warming tray.

It was odd to be in bed, delivering the placenta, getting my stomach pressed, getting stitched up, and all the while, watching people attend to my baby. My baby! She had lots of dark hair, dark eyes, and little rosebud lips. She was crying in her warmer, and they wheeled her over to me...I talked to her and she quieted right down. Just like magic.