I’d never been present at the birth of a baby before.
That probably sounds odd considering I’ve given birth three times. But… it’s just not the same. When you’re out of your mind, delirious with pain, you’re not really present. You just don’t know it until you see it from the other side.
When I had my third baby, I had my mom in the room with me. I remember, when it was all over, she thanked me, her face lit with joy and wonderment. I was puzzled then, thinking she’d had six of her own and had a dozen grandkids. How had this been anything special?
She’d delivered six in a haze of delirium and welcomed a dozen– from the waiting room.
It is most definitely special. I cried my own tears of joy and wonderment.
~~*~~
When Jes and I headed up to the hospital that Friday night, neither of us even suspected that she was in labor. She wasn’t having any contractions and that’s not even the reason we were told to go. She was just supposed to have something checked. So, those bags that we’d so carefully packed and left waiting in the corner some few weeks ago? Remained in those corners.
A week overdue and heading to the OB floor? Who needs supplies? Because– we are dumb.
When we got there, of course the first thing they do is hook her up to a monitor. Almost immediately, she spiked into a big contraction. The nurse glanced at her. “How long have you been having these?”
She shrugged. “All day I guess.”
*blink blink blink*
All day? I knew then that we were in for a long night. :)
After checking out the reason we’d come in the first place and declaring that problem solved, the doc decided he’d just monitor her for a little while- just in case. So while Jes sat happily texting away on her cell phone, oblivious to the monitor, I sat and watched the contractions take on a pattern. Finally, Jes glanced up and frowned. “That one hurt.”
That’s about when I called Master and told him that this was it.
Things progressed fairly quickly after that. At about 2am Saturday morning, the nurses urged Jes to walk the halls to help things along. We did. Up and down and up and down. I was practically sleeping on my feet by then. I’d been awake since 5am Friday morning and I was T I R E D.
We walked until a contraction came that was strong enough to double Jes over and have her grabbing the handrail. The nurse put her to bed, and we started the labor coaching.
I had no idea how to be a labor coach. I took a Lamaze class some 17 and a half years ago. I didn’t remember a thing.
I wasn’t supposed to be Jes’s labor partner anyway. Baby’s Daddy was. I did not prepare for it. He… wasn’t able to make it.
I’d encouraged Jes to take a childbirth class several times, but she waved it off. Not only was she too self-conscious thinking she’d be the only teen in the class, she kept telling me she wouldn’t need it because she was going to have an epidural.
I also kept telling her not to bank on getting that epidural.
She didn’t listen.
She never listens.
Guess what she didn’t get?
An epidural.
Guess what she DID get?
Nothing. Pain. And eventually, lots of stitches.
Around 4am, she was just beginning to get really uncomfortable. There’d not been much ‘coaching’ to do up til then. I rubbed her back a little bit. I fetched ice chips. She was still texting.
The nurses talked her into trying a whirlpool bath the first time she asked for that epidural. After she was in, and had covered her nakedness with a towel (still modest), she asked me to sit in there with her. She was getting scared.
I sat on the edge of the tub. “It’s been some number of years since I’ve given you a bath.” I told her.
“I’m glad you’re here.” she said, and then gripped my hand through another contraction.
By 5am she was back in bed and in significant pain. She began begging in earnest for the epidural. The nurse kept stalling.
Labor coaching ramped up. That part of me that knew I’d struggle with having to watch MY baby in pain kicked in. She gripped my hands, she rolled, she cried out.
She called me Mommy.
She hasn’t called me Mommy since she was 4 years old.
The nurse was intently watching the monitor and completely ignoring Jes asking for pain relief. Pretty soon another nurse joined the first at the monitor. There were whispers as they pointed at something. Then the doctor came in. Then another. There was a long murmured conference between them.
It was about 6am then, when the conference around the monitor broke up and the doctor and nurse approached the bedside. Jes immediately asked.. begged.. for the epidural. Forcing positivity and cheerfulness into her voice, the nurse explained to Jes that she just wasn’t going to be able to have any pain meds right now. That the baby’s heart rate was too low and not bouncing back inbetween contractions like she’d like to see and they just couldn’t risk it.
Jes was absolutely NOT comprehending. For the next hour or so, both the nurse and I coached her through contractions, through breathing, explaining again and again why she couldn’t have anything. She felt betrayed, said that she’d told them hours ago that she wanted that epidural and that nobody was listening to her.
Finally, when I realized that she just getting hysterical, and she- again- asked why she couldn’t have her epidural, I took her face in my hands and said “Because you don’t want to have a dead baby, Jes. Now BREATHE.”
That penetrated the pain because she looked at me, nodded, said okay, and then informed everyone in the room that she going to push now. She never mentioned pain meds again.
That was a little after 7am.
I wasn’t tired anymore.
She pushed for all she was worth. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She just.. worked. Hard.
I was so proud of her.
I didn’t have a bird’s eye view of the delivery, and I didn’t want one. My focus wasn’t on the grandbaby. My focus was on MY baby. With each contraction and each push, she gripped my hand and pulled me in, my head close to her’s, my voice in her ear.
I don’t know that I said the right things. I know I didn’t say anything profound or amazing. I told her to push. I told her to breathe. I told her it was almost over. I told her she was doing great.
Lots of times, I said nothing at all. I wiped her face. I gave her water. I watched the flurry of activity in the room. At times, 4 different doctors clustered around the bed, while at least 4 nurses bustled around the room. I watched the isolette being set up, the scale was brought in. The nurses worked together like a well oiled machine, weaving in and out of the doctors’ paths. When everything was set up, they all turned their attention to Jes.
Baby’s head was crowning.
She was born at 7:45am.
She is absolutely perfect.
The most amazing moment came when, just after she came out, they laid her atop Jes’s belly.
Jes reached for her with both hands, such an expression of awe and wonder on her face. Disbelief almost. Surprise.
She started to cry– I cannot even explain the happiness that was in those sobs. She pulled the baby up to her face, “my baby” she repeated over and over, giving shaky little kisses to the wet, wrinkled forehead of her daughter.
That’s when I lost it. I bawled. I’m tearing up right now just remembering that moment. I’ll never forget it. I have never seen such an immediate explosion of love. Jes fell in love with that baby the very second she laid eyes on her.
Jes is completely smitten. We all are.
Am has declared that Babygirl is “the best thing Jes has ever done.”
But B-man’s reaction has been the sweetest. Throughout Jes’s pregnancy, he’d maintained a disinterest-bordering-on-disgusted reaction. His first visit at the hospital, he took a peek, said she was “all wrinkled and red” and then took the hands-off approach.
But when we got home?
He started to hover.
He flits around her, no matter where she’s at. If someone is holding her, he sits next to them. He can’t keep his eyes off of her.
Last night, I was on the couch holding Babygirl, and he was, of course, right next to me, pointing out each time her head wobbled or her arm waved or her brow crinkled. I finally asked him if he wanted to hold her. (It’s hard, you know? To share? Yeah.)
He started to say no, but I handed her to him anyway. Propped up on her Boppy pillow, I laid her in his lap.
And he just grinned.
He held her hand and touched her feet. For a long, long time. Babygirl just stared at him, until she drifted off to sleep. B-man sat still as a statue.
A bit later, when I reminded him that he needed to take the trash to the curb, he admonished me. “Mom. As you can see, I happen to have a sleeping baby in my lap. The garbage will just have to wait.” And he went back to watching her.
Too cute.
~~*~~
It’s been easier than I anticipated it would be to keep the boundaries clear. It doesn’t bother me a bit to go to bed, knowing Jes is going to be up all night with her. She knows she can call me for anything- and it may get worse, but so far so good. She’s stepped up without a complaint.
Yeah yeah yeah. It’s only been 5 days but who’s counting? ;-)
We have all had to help out more than we should because of Jes’s limitations. The good news is that Jes is frustrated by being limited, and wants to be doing it herself. Instead of just doing it for her, I’ll hand the baby and whatever supplies are needed to her.
Not every time though.
I like to feed her. She’s a tiny little piglet trapped in human form. She has no feeding issues and drains the bottle almost before you’ve gotten comfortable in the chair. She hasn’t spit up once. She eats, she burps, she poops.
I let Jes change her. *beams*
I LOVE to rock her to sleep. The whole eye-rolling, contented sighing, complete trust… Yeah. I am in love, too.
So is Master. Yesterday he bought her a cute little pink dress.
Too adorable.
Master that is. Not the dress. There was something too precious about watching his big manly frame walking through the miniature pink baby clothes, holding them up and going “This one is cute, don’t you think, Tess?”
I am so in love with him, too.
~~*~~
Our living room has been transformed into Baby Central. A swing, a bassinet, the car seat, and two other baby seat/bouncer things. Gone is the treadmill. Gone is the Nordic trak.
And I don’t care. Yet. ;-)
~~*~~
I have asked, and been given Jes’s permission to share pictures. However. I won’t do it here.
I will only share her foot. Because.. it’s cute. And because she has monkey toes.
I’m kicking around other ideas. A vanilla journal somewhere? A flickr account? Email? I don’t know yet. But if anyone doesn’t want to wait for me to decide and would like some photos emailed to you, drop me a line at kaya (at) underhishand (dot) com. It may take me a while to respond, but I will respond eventually. Make sure and put something in the subject line too, so that I don’t send you to the spam folder.
~~*~~
I skipped a whole section of the birthing story. I have one helluva rant to make concerning Jes’s follow up care, the difficulties and her doctor(s). But I want to keep this entry nice.
Tomorrow I will rant.
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Uncategorized | kaya | 
Friday July 17th, 2009 6:26am | 
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