Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Have you ever read the birth stories on those "baby" sites? I did when I was expecting my fourth and final child way back in 2002. I thought it was a nice way to save the memories for the mom and the child. As you may well know, I was adopted. I was nine days old when my parents brought me home from the adoption agency (LDS Family Services). I've heard the story of my parents' "getting me", and it's a sweet story. But until I met my birth mother when I was 26, there was no one to tell me the story of the day I was born. So, I've been thinking of posting something for each of my children about the days they were born because as time marches on, I seem to be forgetting more and more. Because I have two children with my first husband and two with my second, some of the stories will end up being "sweeter" than others. I'm going to tell it like it was and not attempt to dress the stories up or omit unpleasant circumstances. My kids are old enough to know the truth, and knowing my children as I do, I know that they will respect the cold, hard facts more than some kind of "hearts and flowers" censored version.
Since my third child, Maya, just had her birthday a couple weeks ago, I thought I would begin with her birth story. And I think I will post each birth story close to each child's birthday this year. So look forward to (or avoid as the case may be) two more birth stories in September and another one in November.
Maya's Birth Story ~ April 24, 2000
The month preceding Maya's birth, her father, "C" was in a drug/alcohol rehabilitation center dealing with some of his "demons". I was alone in my house in Springville fighting my own demons, and one of those was "C". I was HAPPY to be alone. I was in an abusive relationship and was trapped. I had been unemployed since October the previous year. The house was in foreclosure. The unemployment insurance had run out. My older children, Anthony and Danielle, had been living with my parents due to a horribly painful custody battle that I am still not emotionally able to go into detail about. I had also, by this time, become almost completely cut off from any family and friends. That's the nature of an abusive relationship.
Maya's due date was May 5. Due to the fact that "C" was in rehab, there would be no way for him to just up and leave if I went into labor, and he wanted to be there for Maya's birth. The rehab would allow him a 72-hour pass, but he would have to schedule it ahead of time. My doctor only scheduled inductions at my preferred hospital on Mondays, so we scheduled an induction for Monday, April 24. "C" got his 72-hour pass and I picked him up in the late afternoon on Easter Sunday, April 23.
To the best of my recollection, we were supposed to check in to the hospital at 5:00 a.m., or maybe 5:30. I just remember it was an unGodly early time to have to be anywhere. Of course we were late by about a half an hour. On the drive there, we discussed baby names. We agreed on "Maya" for a girl and "Azure" for a boy. "C" had a two-year-old daughter named Indigo, and he thought it would be cool to name a boy after another shade of blue. It's better than what he REALLY wanted to name a son... "Walking Thunder". Yeah, don't even ask...
We checked into the hospital and the nurse got me all hooked up to the fetal heart monitor/contraction monitor, blood pressure cuff, etc., started the IV, and put something on my cervix that was supposed to help soften it (I think). She said the protocol was that they couldn't start the Pitocin yet. I can't remember how long I had to wait for that, but it was a long enough stretch of time that "C" decide to drive himself home and sleep. He told me to call him when I was in labor. Sounds about typical for a self-centered jackass, huh?
I tried to rest, but the room was pretty cold and I had all the cuffs and monitors on and the IV line stuck in my wrist, not to mention the fact that I was WIRED. I had been through labor and delivery twice before, and remembered the pain. I had never had labor induced before, and I had heard that it was more intense.
The nurse finally started the Pitocin, and within the hour the contractions were getting pretty uncomfortable. I called "C". I called him several times. He finally woke up and answered the phone. The nurse came in several times to check on me and how the labor was progressing, and at around 10:00 my doctor showed up to break my water. "C" still hadn't shown up. Way to be supportive and helpful. After the doctor broke my water, the contractions started coming faster and faster and were really intense. I asked for the drugs. Ok, I demanded the drugs. Oh, the sweet, sweet heaven that is the epidural. "C" had finally shown up and was there to watch me get a needle stuck in my back. I think he probably held my hand and was about as supportive as he could be.
My epidurals are ALWAYS "patchy" in the exact same way. My left side goes completely numb just like it's supposed to. My right side can feel everything. I ended up liking that I could feel my right side (after my first delivery of course) because even though I could feel the pain, it was cut down enough that it was bearable, and I could feel when the baby was crowning. Also, I had a lot more control over my pushing and could move my own right leg.
After I received the epidural, the labor progressed at break-neck speed. It was time to push before I knew it. Maya was my one child who didn't seem to want to come out though. Probably because it was nearly two weeks before her due date (haha). I was pushing and pushing and she was not cooperating. Then her heart rate suddenly dropped, and I started to really get worried. The doctor pulled out the forceps which were SO MUCH BIGGER than they seemed in the birthing films. It was a good thing I couldn't feel anything on my left side, because my right side was hurting, I tell you. I pushed and the doctor "pulled" and Maya was finally born. It took about two seconds for the doctor to get her to cry and those were the longest and scariest two seconds I can remember. Then she wailed and I started breathing again.
Maya was born on Monday, April 24, 2000, around 11:30 a.m., weighed 6 lbs. 6 ozs., and measured 18 inches. She was my smallest baby. She had a full head of soft, black hair and a little wine colored birthmark on the inside of her wrist (which she still has).
I spent the rest of my time in the hospital alone, except for a brief visit from a couple of "C"'s family members. It was nice and peaceful. I was SO glad that "C" didn't want to stay there with me. I wouldn't have gotten any rest if he had.
We left the hospital the next day and the day after that I drove "C" back to the rehab to finish his treatment. My birth mother came from a few counties away to stay with Maya and me while "C" was at the rehab. She was one of the few people the "C" ALLOWED me to keep in contact with. She was worried that something might happen to me or Maya without anyone there at the house with us. It was really nice to have her there with me while I was recovering.
And to quote the very wise Forrest Gump, "That's all I've got to say about that."