05-9-2008 - RE-DONE BIRTH STORY! I LOVE IT!

My mood while writing this blog: Bubbly

“Ready?” The question came to me as if the nurse was standing miles away, shouting through cupped hands. I shut my eyes tight, and through gritted teeth, yelled “NO!” with as much force as I could muster. While lying on that bed, in a tiny little room, with bright lights and strangers all around, a tidal way of emotions hit me hard - hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I knew then, at that moment, there was no turning back. I was going to lose my freedom as a young adult – no more going out when I wanted, and not having to worry about toting a baby in a car seat, and a pink diaper bag over my shoulder. But I didn’t exactly care. I was about to become a completely different person, and live my life as a mother to a beautiful baby girl.

Looking around my hospital room would make anybody cringe. The ugly walls were the color of split pea soup. Next to my hospital bed there were sea green colored cushions, on a scratched up, cheaply coated chair. The mattress of my hospital bed felt like you were lying on a bed of pine needles over pinecone covered rocks. The bathroom that I was currently in had tiling the color of melted butter. Supposedly these things are in labor and delivery rooms to make you feel comfortable, and more at home. They only succeeded in making me wish I was back in my own home, with my mismatched furniture, coffee brown carpet, and a sink full of dishes. I was laying in the tub, squeezing my eyes shut, flaring my nose, and gripping my husband’s hand so hard it turned ghost white, as another contraction rolled over my abdomen. My breath escaped through my cracked lips as I slowly opened my eyes again, to look up at my husband. He was sitting in the bathroom, in the sea green chair, ready to pounce if I should ask for something. Before I could speak, yet another contraction overcame me – a knife being shoved into my belly, and dragged across my skin, over and over, until it finally rolled away, allowing me a few seconds of relief.

Tears started rolling down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and dug my fingers into his back, drawing in shaky breaths. “Please,” I asked him, “please… make this stop. Just take me home! I can’t do this, make it stop!” I could hear his voice crack as he tried to speak.

“Just find a happy place… Go there, and it will help with your pain. I’m so sorry… Just find your happy place…” My arms drew tighter around his neck as another contraction swept from my back, across my sides, and hardened my belly, gripping it like a vice. I started to sob, telling him I needed the epidural, that I couldn’t take another contraction, that I’m sure I’d die by the next one. He gently helped me out of the tub, being ever so careful not to touch my larger than life abdomen. As I slowly dried off the water droplets, he helped me back into my brown, white, and blue hospital gown. Holding the back together, and dragging the IV cart behind him, he let me slowly lead him back into the cool, dimly lit room, meeting a nurse on the way. He let her know that I needed the epidural now, and then helped me back into the bed, positioning the pillows around me to make me more comfortable.

As I closed my eyes and tried to breath, and gripped Kamil’s already white and probably bruised hand, the violently bright lights flashed on, and in came our new nurse and the anesthesiologist. She was pushing a cart with a squeaky wheel, and it was the only thing I could hear clearly; their voices seemed miles away, and I could barely hear them until the nurse said, “I’m sorry, but your husband will have to leave the room.” My eyes got hot as I stared at my husband, silently begging him to protest. He gave me a sad, half smile, as he waited as long as possible before the nurse ushered him out. Hot, salty tears started to run down my red cheeks as I watched my support team, the only one I wanted with me, left. I couldn’t see what the anesthesiologist was doing, but I could hear metal clambering and plastic rustling as she readied her equipment behind me. She pulled apart my gown and rubbed cold liquid onto my lower back, telling me in a hurried voice to slump over my protruding belly. I looked at the nurse with wide eyes and told her I’m scared through loud sobs. She took my hand as I slumped over, and I felt the first poke. They told me to sit still as an electrical shock burst from my back and took off down my right leg, and the nurse squeezed my hand hard as I jumped.

Within minutes, I could feel my right leg, from my hip to my knee, going numb. I slapped it a couple times, but felt nothing. I laid in bed as the anesthesiologist left, and Kamil walked back into my room. I gave him a half, shaky smile and told him my right leg felt funny. He slapped it as well, and grinned, knowing I couldn’t feel it. I started to feel pressure in my lower belly, and expected to feel nothing else. But the pressure built and fell to my left side, as it gripped my belly and hip in a vice and tried to squeeze the life out of me. I fought back, breathing heavily through gritted teeth as my knuckles turned white from gripping the bed poles. As the pressure and tightness left me and my breathing slowed, I stared in disbelief at my left leg.

“I CAN FEEL IT!” I started to yell at Kamil, jabbing my fingers into my left leg and hip. “I CAN FEEL EVERYTHING!!” I started to cry again as I told him how I just felt that last contraction, and that the epidural wasn’t working. My nurse walked in just as another contraction overcame me. I glared at her through half shut eyes and told her through deep breaths how my epidural wasn’t working, and it needed to be fixed. With the air of a “know-it-all” she simply looked at me and stated, “it’s going to take at least fifteen minutes for it to completely numb everything. You’re fine.” She checked the fetal heartbeat and contraction monitors, then turnd on her heel and left. I mumbled a few choice words under my breath to Kamil as I turned to lie on my left side. The lights were out and Kamil was lying down on a make-shift bed next to mine, trying to get some sleep.

I tried to close my eyes, but the pressure worsened, and eventually moved into my butt. It was like I had millions of rubber bands around my hips and butt, the pressure was horrible. I gripped my bed poles harder with each contraction, and tried to breath through them. As the minutes seemed to tick slower and slower, my breathing started to get shakier and shakier until I could no longer control it, and started gulping in air, trying to get any air I could to fill my lungs. Gasping uncontrollably, and making noises that sound like a dying mouse, I awoke Kamil “You need to get the nurse NOW. She’s coming… I know she is… GET HER NOW!” The pressure was almost at its worst. I remembered being told that the pressure you feel was like taking the biggest poop of your life. What I felt was truly like that, and then some.

I was crying out as Kamil and the nurse rushed back into my hospital room. I caught a glance of the clock as the nurse checked my dilation, and it was only around 12:50 am. I was exhausted as I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in the sheets as the nurse flipped on the brightest lights I’ve ever seen. Two big orbs of sheer bright light were positioned on the ceiling, right above the end of my bed. There were two more bright lights positioned further behind the first orb turned on, along with the “normal” room lights. I could hear a little fear, anticipation, and excitement in my husband’s voice as he bluntly asked the nurse “Is it time?” I quickly glanced at my husband then. I couldn’t help but notice his face. I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, yet there was a sparkle to them; like when a child wakes up on Christmas morning and notices the brightly wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree. His face was a little tight, and his cheekbones seemed to stand out a little sharper than usual. I realized then that not only was this man my husband, but he was about to truly become the father of our daughter. Not wanting to hear the nurse’s answer, yet knowing what she was going to say by how I felt, I pushed my face back into the sheets as she said “Yes.” and hurriedly left the room. Not a minute later, she was back in the room with three other nurses. By this time, I wasn’t able to breathe correctly, and felt like I was trying to breathe through a straw. I was crying and telling anyone and everyone that my epidural STILL wasn’t working. I asked for more medication to be put through the needle, and the same nurse told me I couldn’t get any more, that I was ready to deliver. My eyes widened as she said those words, and it felt like my brain kicked into overdrive. Everything started to blur when I realized that this was it… That I was about to become a mother and that would be my “job” for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t be able to just drop everything and go hang out with friends now. No more staying up until the early morning and sleeping in until late afternoon. Kamil and I could no longer go to a movie at the drop of a hat like we used to. Before, I would have been able to completely finish my homework, only stopping for a bathroom break. Now, would I even be able to finish it? Would it take me a lot longer with a baby? For just a brief moment, I started to ask myself “Is this what I really want? Do I want to give up my freedom?” For that split second, I felt almost sad that my freedom was dying; until all the pain and pressure I had previously felt in my lower abdomen felt like it was going to burst through my lower regions. I shook away the mixed emotions and told myself that whether I wanted to give up my freedom or not, I had no choice now. With what I was feeling, motherhood better be pretty darn well worth it!

“Ready?” The question came to me as if the nurse was standing miles away, shouting through cupped hands. I shut my eyes tight, and through gritted teeth, yelled “NO!” with as much force as I could muster. But just minutes after, I looked at the nurses with wild eyes and screamed, “I HAVE TO PUSH NOW!” I screamed at the nurses, at Kamil, at the innocent people in the hallways, and at anybody else who was in hearing distance of me. The nurses nodded and calmly told me to go ahead, as if they’ve heard it all before. Even though I still couldn’t feel my right leg, I grabbed both my thighs and heaved myself up over my belly and grunted like a pig. I pushed and pushed, then fell back against my pillows out of breath and already tired. My doctor rushed into my room in a blur right then. I glanced up just in time to see her covered in blue plastic scrubs, a face shield, and blue latex gloves. She introduced herself and asked if we had met before. I allowed myself a slight smile and nodded, telling her that we had met quite a few times for my appointments. While she readied herself at my feet, I noted how awake she looked for it being only 1 o’clock in the morning. She gave her equipment a quick nod and looked up at me saying “Ok Mallory. We’re going to get serious about pushing now!”

One nurse held my numb, limp right leg and foot, another held my left foot and the third was behind the doctor, covered in blue paper, holding a blue blanket out in front, ready to catch. Kamil was on my left side, wanting to touch me, wanting to help, but not sure of what to do. I started to feel sad for him, that he wasn’t able to help the way he wanted, and that he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to just stand there or not. But as soon as the doctor started speaking, the thought went as quickly as it came. The doctor instructed me to hold my thighs when I felt a contraction coming, and to curl up over my belly so I could push. I grabbed onto my thighs, dug my fingers into them, and as a contraction swept over my belly, I took a deep breath and curled over it, pushing as hard as I could. Kamil counted to 8 before I fell back against the bed, breathing heavily, taking a second’s rest before grabbing my thighs again and giving it another go. For about 25 minutes, I was pushing and resting, pushing and resting. I was lightheaded and a little dazed from holding my breath while pushing, and I didn’t know if I felt like crying like a baby, or if I should feel excited about the almost birth of my baby. At 1:14 am, my doctor told me to give one more big push. I took a deep breath, gripped my thighs, curled up over my enlarged belly that would soon disappear, and gave the biggest push of my life.

I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could, letting everybody know what I thought of her crowning, using a not so nice word. From somewhere in the room, I was told to quit screaming, keep pushing. I brought it down a level and yelled as I pushed. My legs tensed up and I pushed my left foot against the nurse’s hand, trying to back away from the inevitable pain. The doctor held up a hand and yelled “Hold it!” and for what seemed like years, I tried my hardest to not do what they had been telling me TO do for the past 35 minutes. Then, without a minute’s notice, I gave another slight push and in a whirlwind of activity and emotions, I felt my hard belly go soft as my daughter was plopped on my mushy, bare belly at 1:16 am. Without even thinking, my hand went to her and my arm wrapped around her, protecting her from the harsh lights and the cold of the room. Tears poured from my eyes and ran freely down my cheeks, making wet circles on my ugly hospital gown. I looked up at my husband through blurry vision just in time to see tears spring from his red eyes and run down his face.

At that moment, as I held onto my daughter, covered in a cheesy substance and the remains of her old home, my heart flooded with emotions I had never felt before and branched out to the rest of my body. I became a completely changed person. I could no longer sleep through the night. I could no longer stay out late, or eat dinner without being interrupted thirty different times. I could no longer nap when I wanted, or wake up when I wanted; but I didn’t care. In that moment, I became a mother.

At first, being a new mother, I wasn’t sure of myself; was never sure what she needed or wanted, and didn’t know how to do things in a timely matter. In these last three months, I’ve learnt to be the mother she needs me to be. I’m much more mature as a person. I drive a lot more careful than I did before. It does take me a lot longer to finish homework – I have a baby that needs to be fed, changed, rocked, and played with. But I make sure to finish it, so I can eventually finish school and help my husband better our lives, so we can give Alyvia everything she needs as she grows. I believe having a child has made me a better person overall. When people ask me about my delivery experience, I tell every one of them the same thing, “It was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through, and it hurt like hell, but it was COMPLETELY worth it in the end.”