Labor of love

I am 32 weeks pregnant, and at my last doctors appointment it hit me: this baby has to come out. I watched my ultrasound technicians eyes as she did some calculations… Then her eyes met mine and smiled as she said, “your little boy is weighing in at approximately 4.8 pounds”. My jaw dropped because according to my lovely baby application I read each week he is almost two pounds heavier than most fetuses his age. I was still trying to fathom the last sentence that came out of her mouth when she continued, “keep in mind he will gain about half a pound weekly between now and delivery”.

Even I can do basic math, and this means I am going to have Another BIG baby. So let me tell you the story of my first delivery.

I thought I pissed the bed. It was 5 am (the morning of my due date) and I was covered in a warm watery liquid. At the time I had moved home from college, and was living at my mother’s. After I realized my water broke and this liquid was not at all pee I panicked. I remember thinking “holy shit, holy shit, holy shit” as I tip-toed upstairs to get my mom. “Mom, my water broke” I casually said despite my internal freak out, “I’m going to take a shower”. I heard my mothers feet frantically shuffling around as she gathered her belongings and I headed back down stairs.

In the shower I took my sweet time, even shaved my legs! This is nothing like the movies I thought. After my shower I smothered my body in lotion, straightened my hair, and started applying makeup. THEN I got my first contraction.

“Let’s go NOW!” I screamed to my mother who had been waiting by the door for twenty minutes. From that moment every second felt like a minute. I couldn’t get this baby out fast enough.

The only thing I remember about the ride to the hospital were the crows. My mother slowed down for a couple of crows who were feasting in the middle of the road and I LET HER HAVE IT, ” they’re just crows” I screamed, ” go! Hit them! They’ll move”. For the rest of the ride I focused my pain on those damn crows, cursing them until we reached the hospital.

I’m a granola woman, boarder line hippie, and I was determined to do this thing naturally. After all, it’s what our bodies are made for right? WRONG! Nothing about that felt natural at the time, but by the time the doctor saw me I was way past the point of an epidural, and he kept reminding me in his overly soothing voice, “remember Casey, this is what you wanted”. So needless to say I got my wish even though I begged for an epidural.

At this point labor is full force and we are trying everything. The tub, the ball, this position and that position. I felt like a damn monkey in a circus. Her head was stuck, it wouldn’t come through my pelvis no matter which way I rocked it.

My poor mother, anyone else would have walked out on me. She tried rubbing my back and got a ” DON’T TOUCH ME” in return. She tried words of encouragement and I responded “STOP TALKING!”. Then she tried to step into the hall to give our family and friends an update and I snapped, “where the hell are you going?! Don’t leave!”. I apologize to her up to this day because I was horrendous. You’ve heard of Bridezilla right? I was mommytobezilla. She has given my fiancé a full disclosure for his upcoming event in the delivery room with baby number 2.

After five hours of very a very active delivery I was falling asleep between contractions. My body had had enough, and it desperately needed that 60 seconds between pushing to rest. I heard the doctor talking about a c-section and my granola instincts kicked in. My mother must have sensed them because she grabbed a mirror off of the table next to me and positioned it between my legs. I could see her head, and all of that jet black hair. The visual was enough for me to push again, and a couple of minutes later I was holding my beautiful baby girl on my chest.

9 lbs and 1 ounce. I, a smaller 110 pound woman, delivered that baby all by myself without the help of pain meds. I don’t mean to boast, but HELL YEAH I’m proud. It was the most empowering thing I have ever done. I grew that little, perfect human being and pushed her 21 inch head out of my vagina.

As empowering as it was I am still scared shitless to do it again. I thought that would be different this time around but it’s not. I still find myself thinking, “ohhhhh shit, this kid has to come out”. In fact, I think it’s almost scarier because this time I know what I’m up against.

Please, share your fairy-tale delivery stories so we can tell tell Hollywood to make a real delivery scene.


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