So, I guess I’ve got to stop calling him my little thumb-sucking alien baby, hey
He did not come out with two heads or green antennae, I have yet to see him suck his thumb (although he is a fan of sucking his whole fist) and my gawd he is not little – 8 lbs, 10 oz and 20.5 inches long, which I swear are all legs! Mind you, calling him my Baby Cavendish or my Little Usain Bolt is not out of the question.
Last Thursday, I was induced, one week before the originally planned for induction date, and three weeks before his actual due date. Big Ring and I knew it could take hours, maybe even days before things got going, so we made sure we were prepared. Laptop, check. IPod, check. Girly book, check. Two magazines, check. Stack of DVDs (Ghostbusters and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, oh yeah ) check.
We didn’t need any of it.
Within 15 minutes of the cervidil, I started to feel pressure, 30 minutes in, cramping, 45 minutes the cervidil was removed for fear the labour was progressing too fast. It didn’t stop. At one hour, I was 3 cm dilated, at which point the super amazing obstetrician (I seriously can’t say enough good stuff about him and the nurse in charge of me that night) broke my water, figuring the babe was none too keen to continue hanging in the womb.
At 6 cm, my belly started to involuntarily push. I knew this was not good, but as much as I tried to stop it, at one point even lecturing it to stop, it would not. When the OB came back to check (literally minutes from the last time he checked!) I was 10 cm dilated. With a huge grin on his face, he announced to the room, “You’ve got a really nice cervix!” Now that’s a compliment I’ve never heard before
Labour is the one thing that has freaked me out for years. Despite having a high pain threshold, the days and months leading up to this event, I was trembling. I for sure figured I’d be a complete wimp and be begging for drugs the second we rolled into the hospital parking lot. And yet, while it was painful and uncomfortable as hell, and I think I even joked at one point for Big Ring to remind me again why I opposed a c-section, it wasn’t the kind of tear-your-insides-apart, get-on-your-knees-and-beg-for-the-gods-up-above-to-make-it-stop pain. There were no tears, there was no howling, no morphine, no thought of an epidural, just a bunch of hits of laughing gas is all
I kept my eyes shut for pretty much the entire time, and as soon as a contraction came I pushed, oh man did I ever push – once, twice, three and four times per contraction, face apparently beet red, veins in my neck popping like they never popped before. I was focused! And watching me, Big Ring said there was no doubt in his mind this kid was getting out naturally – there would be no c-section if my pushing had any say in the matter.
On Aug 30, at 8:59 p.m., with a blue moon shining brightly outside, after two hours of labour, plus one hour of pushing, my baby boy was out. “Open your eyes! Open your eyes!” the nurse and doc shouted. What I saw was the most beautiful, slimy, greyish, purple, wailing bundle being placed on my chest. It is that moment I know I will never forget.