I got back to bed and lay down on my left side, with one pillow under my head, one between my legs, and a third at my back. At that point, that was the only comfortable position in which to lie. See? That's why getting an inducement was sounding better and better. So I was lying there, struggling to get comfortable and back to sleep, when I had a contraction. Not that much stronger than the others I had been having, but I definitely felt it. Fifteen minutes later I had another one. Then two more, exactly fifteen minutes apart. By this time, it was getting to be light out, around 6 AM. Your father started to stir, so I woke him and told him about the contractions. He started panicking a little bit.
A few minutes later, my water broke. It wasn't a big gush into the bed, but there was a definite popping feeling, then wetness. There was no doubt about what is was. I did a knock-kneed walk to the bathroom, then surveyed the damage. Yep. Definitely amniotic fluid. I'll spare you the details, but calling it "water" is a gross misnomer. And by "gross," I mean both "extreme" and "nasty."
Once it was clear that this was the real deal, we called Beth just to check in and let her know that the day had finally arrived. Next we called your Aunt Val, who had to drive in from Massachusetts. She had informed me weeks earlier that she had already packed her bag and had her traveling cash at the ready. As soon as she heard my voice she knew that it was time to get on the road. She had been so worried for weeks that she would miss your arrival, because she had a business trip to DC planned for the last week of April. She had about 10 backup plans for getting to Rochester from DC, if you decided to come early. All that contingency planning and anxiety wasted!
We let some more time pass, then around 8 we called your Grandma J at home and your Grandma H at work. Grandma J then called your Aunt Lori to tell her to get ready. When I called your Grandma H, she wasn't in her classroom and I spoke to one or her coworkers, who expressed his sympathy that my Uncle in Vietnam, Grandma's brother, had died. I didn't know what he was talking about, and started crying as soon as I hung up. When Grandma called back a few minutes later, she cried as she told me that one of your great uncles had died the night before of a heart attack.
Everyone except Val agreed not to leave for Rochester until we let them know that I had been admitted to the hospital. Your daddy and I wanted to stay home, alone, as long as possible for the early stages of labor. I took a shower while your dad got the car packed, the cats settled, and things organized around the house. He called work to let them know that he would not be coming in. We watched some TV and I walked around the house. I labored in the kitchen with my head down on the counter, in the shower, with my head against the wall, and kneeling on the floor with my head on the couch. It felt good to lean!
My contractions quickly sped up from 15 minutes apart to 2 or 3 minutes apart. They came strong and fast. We had not expected things to move this quickly. We didn't have anything else with a second hand, so we timed the contractions on a Simpson's watch that your father had gotten at Burger King. When you pushed the button on it you could hear Homer say, "Mmmmmmm. Burger." It didn't really sound like Homer, but it sounded just like your father and made us laugh.
By 10 AM, I was ready to go to the hospital. We said goodbye to the kitties and listened to Neil Young's Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere in the car, and as we drove we said, "This is our last car ride as non-parents."
When we got to labor and delivery, they sent us to the triage room so that the attending MD could determine whether I was ready to be admitted. They sent me into the bathroom to collect a urine sample, and I brought them a cup filled with amniotic fluid. Then they swabbed me to verify that it was amniotic fluid. The swab turned black, which confirmed that it was. The MD examined me, and determined that I was just over 4 cm dilated, and the fetal monitor verified that I was contracting every 2 minutes. Things were moving fast!
While your father called everyone to let them know that I was being admitted, I waited for my room to be readied. I got changed into a gown and the infamous mesh labor underwear.
Then we got settled into our room. Your father put on some music. The Beatles, I think.
The next five hours are a blur. I labored on the birthing ball, in the bed, and in the Jacuzzi, but mostly I labored walking up and down the halls of the birth center with your father. He rubbed my back and I did my deep yogic breathing as the contractions came. Your Aunt Val made it in record time and got there first. Your Grandma and Grandpa J were pulled over for speeding, but got out of being ticketed when they told the officer where they were going. Your Aunt Lori got a flat tire in Mt. Morris, but a kind stranger helped her out and got her back on the road. Your Grandmas, Aunts, and father helped me through the contractions while your Grandpas sat in the sunny garden and talked about Vietnam, the army, and airplanes.
Your father was incredible and calm, and your Grandmas and Aunts assisted him in getting me what I needed: ice chips, juice, a cold washcloth for my forehead. They also stood in while your father took breaks to go to the bathroom, get a drink, or grab a quick snack.
Beth had arrived around noon and said that things were progressing so well that I would probably deliver before she had to leave around 5. At 4, I started getting tired and decided to try some Nubain to take the edge off the pain. Getting the Nubain meant that I had to wear the fetal monitor: No more walking. The narcotic made me sleepy, and I was able to get a little rest, but it also made the contractions nearly stop.
Beth had to leave and she was relieved by Laura, a wonderful midwife that I had met before at a prenatal visit. Because my contractions had stopped, I had to have a Pitocin drip to help get things moving again. That did the trick! By 6 or so I was almost fully dilated, but my cervix was having trouble opening that last half centimeter.
When Laura had finished coaxing my cervix, I was ready to push. For about 2 hours I pushed with each contraction, while your Aunts and Grandmas held my legs and your Daddy held my hand. They were all our cheerleaders, exclaiming, "You're doing great! Excellent job! Just a few more pushes!" They were amazing.
Around 10 PM, you were just at the cusp of emerging, when they brought in the mirror, as I had requested in my birth plan. At that point, though, I couldn't see anything and I didn't care. They turned on a blinding bright spotlight and shined it directly on my crotch, a beacon to guide you the rest of the way.
I was intently pushing, but you were stubborn and didn't want to leave your warm hidey hole. Your heartrate started dipping unpredictably, and the nurses fixed an oxygen mask on my face to help stabilize it. Grandma H was so scared for you and had to take a few minutes to herself in the hall and away from our bed.
After a few more pushes, an obstetrician came in like a deus ex machina to give Laura some help. When he leaned in to talk to me, I was terrified he was going to tell me that I needed a C-Section, but he said that you just needed a little help coming out and he was going to use a vacuum extractor, aka baby plunger. Your father and I were familiar with this device from our birthing class, and I was scared but relieved.
The extractor was a type that the doctor had never used before, and the first attempt to plunge you out was a failure. The suction was lost and the extractor popped right off. By the next contraction and push, the suction was firmly attached. Right before I pushed, I felt an extreme sense of relief as the Dr. and Laura gave me an episiotomy. One more push and you were out! All I could see was that you were bloody, moving, and that you had a headful of dark hair. It was 10:34.
You didn't cry at first, and your father and I were so scared. The pediatric team rushed you over to the warmer table and suctioned you out. They were working over there for a minute or two before you let out your first tentative cry. Meanwhile, Laura and the Dr. helped me to deliver the placenta, which for 9+ months had nourished and grown you. I asked to see it, and the nurse showed us, pointing out the embryonic sac that had been your home.
We named you Harrison.
Once I was stitched and you were breathing strongly, well-oxygenated, and a little cleaned up, the nurses bundled you up and brought you over to us. You were amazingly alert. Your eyes were open and you looked right up at your father and me. We looked right back, cuddled you close, and fell infinitely, unimaginably in love.
Happy birthday, my darling. My life will never be the same.
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