Have I Told You Tuesday (on Wednesday): Birthday Edition

Dearest Daughters,

If you ever experience childbirth, you’re going to want to talk about it. It’s just a fact. Because one, it’s special and amazing and two, it’s effing painful and you’ll want to remind EVERYONE (including yourself) about the PAIN. Plus, I mean, who wouldn’t want to hear about your uterus?

If uteri are not your thing, stop reading now.

Childbirth experiences are all different. Some people have cesarean sections. Some people have difficult and scary experiences. Some people experience the trials and joys of a child being “birthed” into their lives through adoption of one form or another (i.e. international, domestic, kin). And some babies, like you two, could have been born (as some babies in the world are) on the side of the road.

I tend to be self-deprecating and joke about your births because they were fairly easy. And most people want to talk about how horrible “IT” was. And rightly so. Women can win any argument against a man based on labor and delivery alone.

“Stop nagging me about taking out the garbage. I’ll do it when I’m good and ready.”

“Sure. Just like I delivered your two children, followed by placental afterbirth, all on MY own schedule.”

“I can’t [insert ANY familial responsibility here], I’m too [insert ANY adjective here]!”

“Really? What do you think my vagina would have to say about that?”

See? I win.

I wrote about Babybel’s birth here.

But, I can’t seem to find where I wrote about Danjo’s birth. Internet, if you can find it, let me know. Until then, I give you:

The Day Danjo Was Born

4:30pm – Threw up in a Costco garbage can. Felt “icky” and was already VERY paranoid about giving birth in public, given my first hasty delivery. Also, both my doctor and my mother suggested that I “might not even feel any labor pain” given my history. So, basically, I was terrified that I could be in labor without even knowing it. Called the late, great Dr. Hank Streitfeld, who said to come on in.

5:30pm – Triage. Three centimeters. Perhaps, in pre-labor. Doctor admitted me since it was my second baby and, again, taking into consideration my labor and delivery history. This stellar attention to detail should have foreshadowed what was to come, but it didn’t.

7:30pm – No changes. Contractions, but not painful and no clear pattern. So, at least I wasn’t crazy thinking that I was having contractions all MONTH long. Doctor phones that he’s finishing dinner and that I can either go home or he can “help me along” by breaking my bag of waters. Dilemma. I certainly didn’t want to become one of those cases of unnecessary inducement, lack of response and then subsequent interventions, resulting in a c-section. Then again, the IV was already in. I kid you not, for me, the IV is the WORST part of labor and delivery. It never fails, they miss my vein five times and my wrists and hands swell up with blood. The bruising lasts for days. So, basically, I had Danjo because I didn’t want to have to take my IV out. That, and the doctor assured me that if he broke my water, the rest of the course would be “natural” (i.e. no pitocin) and that I’d likely have the baby by morning.

9:30pm – Water broken. Feels wet. Imagine that! Doctor Hank pats my knee and says he’ll see me soon, but that he’s headed home for the night. Labor ensues. Quickly. I went from chatting and playing solitaire on my iPhone to needing complete silence and for NO ONE to touch me EVER AGAIN in order to work on my “pain management” as they call it.

11:00pm – Nurse shift change. Given that my bag was broken and that nurses have different sized fingers, my dilation progress was not checked until the shift change. At 11pm it was five centimeters. Not too shabby. The nurse leaving did a great job of communicating all the pertinent information including the fact that Dr. Hank wanted to be notified when I got to six or seven centimeters or felt “pushy.” Oh wait. Except for the fact that I have a history of rapid labor and delivery. Did I mention my history of rapid labor and delivery? Oh. And rapid labor and delivery. Of course, I was all busy managing the pain to really express the rapidness of it all. So, no one called Dr. Hank.

12:20am – Hey guys! Feeling pushy! Nurse checks me. Nine centimenters. Four in about an hour! She pages Dr. Hank and begins to prepare room for delivery. She checks out my monitor and tells me to lie on my side. I guess to reduce stress on the baby and to keep me from delivering. I had thrown up a while earlier (something that they don't tell you can be a part of hard labor) but couldn't determine whether I felt "pushy" or not. Next time, I'll take the throwing up as a sign that I'm in the thick of it.

12:21am – No such luck. I HAVE to push. The nurse tells me not to. I’m sort of panicking and NOT managing pain or emotions. Pretty sure I said the “F” word. And I was really concerned about a doctor NOT being there. In retrospect, a doctor didn’t need to be there. It was just the fear of the unknown and a situation for which I had not been mentally prepared.

12:22am – Pain. Squealing. I HAVE TO I HAVE TO I HAVE TO. There’s her head.

12:23am – There’s her shoulder. Oh. And her other one.

12:24am – This is the time that was declared as her official birth time, based on what was recorded on the monitor, but who knows really? Danjo literally slipped out. The bed had not yet been prepared for delivery and I was still under my sheet, lying on my side. Basically, I pooped a baby onto my bed. If you’re familiar with hospital delivery beds, she landed in the crack between the upper portion and the lower portion that detaches for delivery. Since she slipped out behind me and I was all panicky I don’t really remember what happened exactly. My mom or dad put a hand down on the baby so she wouldn’t fall of the bed. Someone ran to get help since the nurse that was in the room was a good for nothing. Not really. Her call button just wasn’t working. In a flash there were about ten people in the room, checking out the baby and making sure I was all right. We were fine. The phone rang. “Dr. Hank, your patient has already delivered.” And he gave them an earful.

The End.

No. Wait. Placenta and afterbirth. Now, The End.

Dr. Hank called me a few months ago because well, he wasn’t there, and he had to report to a peer review board about what happened. I had to refresh his memory. Since then, Dr. Hank passed away. I didn’t even know that he was ill until the day he died. But, he had been diagnosed with cancer three years ago. Even before I had my first baby. Who he also failed to deliver, being off that weekend, of course.

Anyway, this post wasn’t really supposed to be about him, but now that I mention it. Dr. Hank definitely had a distinct personality and there are differing opinions on him as a person. But, he was a great doctor. A great “mama” doctor, as he said. Even though he didn’t deliver either of my babies, he took great care of me. I will miss him.

But now, I know that I don’t even need a doctor for labor and delivery! So, I’ll have my next one in the backyard. Everyone’s invited!

Love,

Comments

[Mommy (not yours, but theirs)]

Oh my! I hope I didn't infer there was a pending fetus. Only being hypothetical, people!

[Lynda]

Next time? Next One? OMG Love it!