My first was delivered after I went through a VERY rough 4 days of labor. FOUR DAYS. I was tired and had not slept for those four days. On the last day I started threatening to cut the baby out with a spoon if they didn't do something soon. I threatened violence and screamed at everyone. I threw things, and I think I may have died a little bit.... Well, I got a one hit epidural that lasted a couple of hours and by the time I was begging for more because the pains were getting so bad I think I wanted to die, they told me it was already too late. I still really don't see the beauty in "going natural". I thought the labor part was rough until the last twenty minutes of the most painful experience of my life..... Pushing this large headed child out of my hoo ha in a hail of obscenities, indecipherable words in long dead languages that probably summoned demons, and blood and other fluids, and I was finally being handed a squirmy, wrinkly, screaming, VERY angry, goo covered baby. NOT what I expected. I mean, TOTALLY not like in the movies, ya know? Not a very "magical" experience, although at some point I may have seen el chupacabra doing an Irish jig in the corner of the room. They whisked him away to his "station" got him all cleaned up while they picked my female bits up off the floor, because I'm pretty sure that fell off, and put me back together. And I really got to hold my son and really take a good look at him. Everything else that happened over the last few days melted away.
Ditto my second boy. 18 hours of labor. Now THAT was an interesting one. I had gone in to work that day. I was experiencing some mild contractions at the time, but I thought nothing of it. I got the boy from preschool after work and I went home. That evening, while sipping on juice in bed, I noticed that the baby stopped moving. I was told this was not a good sign, so I called the doctor, who suggested that I come into the hospital so that they could monitor the baby and my contractions. My parents came to pick up #1 and took him to their house. The nurses asked how I was feeling. I told them I felt fine. I was just tired. They sent me home to get some rest, but assured me that I would be back very soon..... I laughed. A few hours later, I was back with some pretty wicked pains. My fear of having NO PAIN MEDS WHEN I NEEDED THEM this time frightened me and I made sure that everyone KNEW IT. I was going to have an epidural NOW. It was given to me. I was, like, YAY! And again, 15 minutes of intense pressure, but not as much of the sharp cutting pains, I was peering down into the face of my second born son. I did it. Not so bad. The aftermath of all the blood splatter was a little less than nice and all the bloody instruments of torture laid out on trays was a little creepy, but I survived. I was handed this perfectly wrinkled face that stared up at me, probably confused and unsure of what the fuck was going on, but he didn't seem to care because he felt loved. And me? Yeah. I didn't really care about the journey to get to that moment either.
The third was a HUGE surprise. I denied the pregancy forever....... Until I got so sick that I had to be put on home IV therapy for several weeks. THAT sucked. I had to change out bags for myself every day, piggy back other bags to control my vomiting with anti emetics and vitamin supplements.... Then having my arms violated with new needles by a traveling home nurse every couple of days... This child sucked the very life from me. I didn't think I was going to survive it. Blah..... Then of course, sitting in my bed one day, right at around nine months pregnant, minding my own business, watching television, my water breaks. I mean, it was a tsunami of fluid EVERYWHERE. Ew. So I sat on a stack of towels to get driven to the hospital so as not to stain the car seat, and there I was again, laboring away screaming for an epidural. The anesthesiologist was busy elsewhere, so they gave me an injection of happy juice. It was NOT happy. Sure it knocked me the fuck out after the contractions, but when they started up again, I was a screaming, raging animal. Not good. It just felt like one long contraction that never ended because I was completely unaware when they weren't happening, but FULLY awake and aware that I was in a lot of fucking pain when they were. NOT COOL. UGH! After some god awful amount of time with that, the anesthesiologist came into the room. I think my exact words were, "I love you SO MUCH right now! You are my favorite person!" And when he was done, I did love him and he was my favorite person. Well, a couple of hours later, after some eye vein popping pushing, #3 child was born a pound heavier at 8lbs 5ozs. His shoulders were so broad that on a rotation, the little bugger snapped my tailbone. WOO HOO!!!!! Despite the epidural, I felt that and it sucked. I'm not sure if I heard it more or if I felt it more, but it sucked. I looked down at his chubby little red face and forgot again about everything. We holed up in a hospital room by ourselves because of a freak blizzard that hit that day.
Well, #4 was the biggest surprise...... I went into denial again. I didn't think my body could do it again, but it did. And what a trip that was. I suffered from everything. Morning noon and night sickness, three active, young boys to take care of, a household to run, several trips to the hospital including a severe asthma attack that came out of nowhere, a preterm labor scare (which turned out to be nothing more than the baby stomping on my bladder and kicking the pee out of my bladder and causing a series of Braxton Hicks contractions.....) I had a liver condition that cause crystals to form in my pores that made me all itchy, higher blood pressure, possible gestational diabetes, chronic migraines and painful water retention. And I found out that it was a girl..... WTF??!?!?!!?!? I mean boys I had done well with. I could deal with little boys. I knew what to do with them. I was a three time veteran in that field. But a daughter? I was freaking. My parents on the other hand, who had four grandsons at this point, were pleased as punch. After the announcement was made, my house magically became the house that Pepto Bismol threw up in. EVERYTHING WAS PINK!!!!!!!!! Well, after what was a pretty difficult pregnancy, I was dealt another four day labor...... Not as intense and painful as the first, but when it comes time for it, I am NOT a patient person. I want it done and over with. I had been pregnant long enough.... But no. The doctor who took charge of my "delivering" was hard core about NOT administering pitocin in any amount. I was made to suffer until it was time. I did jumping jacks and walked and ran up and down the stairs to move things along, to no avail..... :( But it became quite clear to people that it was probably time to go to hospital when I started speaking in tongues and my head started spinning around and dark cloud developed over the house itself. Got settled into the room and a couple of hours later, I'm screaming for someone to get me an epidural NOW DAMNITFUCKSHITCUNTMOTHERFUCKASSDICKLICKCUMSTAINFUCKNUGGET!!!!! It was great. I even managed to get a couple of hours of sleep until that overwhelming need to expel something roused me from a rather peaceful slumber. It was a rather desperate cry for help. Now, I'm pretty sure that the nurse who came in meant well when she asked if I'd like a mirror to watch the birth. She took my look of absolute horror and disgust as a, "No."And bing, bang boom. No heavy pushing. just a little effort here and there.... Then, I held my daughter and vowed to make sure that she would be every much the brute her brothers were. And once again, I forgot everything, and felt that it was all worth it for THAT moment. Nothing else mattered
It was the aftermath of all the suffering through a long gestation only to get to labor which was all blood and gore and violence and agony and torture and the test of a woman's humility having all sorts of people all up in your business and all that shit that brings about the beauty of what childbirth is. Despite all of the arduous work and absolute Herculean-ness, and total super human feats, it is the first time you gaze upon the cheese and blood covered face of your child that brings a sense of accomplishment. Yeah, I can recall the pains and the experiences themselves and none of it was pretty. Actually, it all sucked. I hated every minute of it. It was wretched. But then I watch my kids sleeping (they look so innocent and sweet when they're sleeping.....) and it kind of gives me a sense of pride. I DID THAT. And it's kind of cool.
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