Somewhere after Mr. NeckVein and Mr. Indian Angel, I progressed into labor, got an epidural and was ready for birth. I remember none of that.
The only image in my mind is laying flat on the hospital bed. Jed is on one side; a nurse is on the other. They both have hold of my knees, pushing them up toward my chest. My Dr. and two nurses were at the bottom of the bed. The bedside monitor beeped.
“Now you tell us when you are going to push…ok?” They looked at me expectedly. The red line on the monitor turned upward and then came downward. I had no idea what they were talking about. I thought they were suppose to tell ME when to push. Seriously, how was I so unprepared for this? Wasn’t this suppose to be my god given right to bring children into this world and know how to do that? Grrr.
I honestly couldn’t feel a …single…thing. Contractions. Nope. Pain. Nope. Nothing. How was I suppose to know when to push?
So many people had talked about how painful contractions were. So many people had told me to take drugs and as many as possible, including an epidural. And while I had made a birth plan, outlining a natural birth if possible, I was sure that had been lost long ago at the nurses station. I realize everyone is different but trying to push with no bodily sensation while laying on my back was ridiculous. It’s like being at the Dentist when they numb your gums and lips and then try to carry on a conversation with you. I felt trapped and completely helpless to do what I was “naturally” suppose to know how to do. I started to panic – how was I going to get this baby out? My Dr. didn’t believe in C-sections and had mentioned this several times to me. I thank her looking back now but during those hours, I really was not sure how it was all going to work out.
And so, just as the moment when I found out I was pregnant with Mr. R and prayed to my great grandma’s, I now began a conversation with my child.
“R. It’s you and me. I am trying my best buddy, but I need your help…” You see I believe that before all of us are born into life, our souls exist in another space. I believe that we are always who we are, just in various stages of spiritual growth. So I knew that my R was existing in that other space all through our nicknaming him the lima bean, through the trauma in the bathroom stall and even now at this very moment. I believe he was aware that his time to come into this space was near and that he wanted to come just as much as I wanted him here.
The Dr waited in expectations. I tried to push…
“Not now!” They yelled. Trial and Error. Over and over again. I won’t bore you with the details of the final hours.
What I will share is the moment I heard him cry. His beautiful barbaric yalp. He was free. and out. and real. his own little man. What a beautiful, beautiful sound.
3:23am, October 19
8 lbs 4 oz, 21 inches long
Mr. R was born