|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
|August 23, 1987
Today is the day of my baby shower. The daughter -in-law of a very famous, and currently dead movie star, is giving me a baby shower today.
I awake at 7 a.m. I have to pee. Desperately. Not an unusual circumstance for the pregnant. And I am so very pregnant. I still have three weeks to go, and yet I am so huge and bloated - I don't recognize myself when I pass a mirror. People on the street stare at me.
After I finish in the loo I return to my bed, beside my sleeping husband - sort of. My proportions have swelled to such extent that he has been forced off the bed, and onto a roll-away. I lie back down, and try to sleep. What the??? Something warm and wet is leaking out of my body - down there! I scoot into a sitting position and call out in alarm. What is it??? Am I bleeding? Am I wetting the bed? Uh Oh! I think my water has broken! Oh my gosh! I'm having a baby today!
There is a flurry of activity. Obstetrician and family members are phoned. I'm sitting on a towel, making these calls, while my crazed husband takes a shower. I see him streak past me, naked and still wet, running toward his clothes. Then, I phone the baby shower hostess with my regrets (she's still going to have the party - just without the guest of honor). I take my shower. Nothing hurts. No labor pains - just this semi-constant leakage from my nether regions.
We pack up my bag of hospital stuff and head over. The nursing staff checks me in and assures me it will be many hours before I bring forth a child. This bothers me, as I was really hoping to have this baby, and maybe skip over the labor part.
They stick me in a plain, small labor room with a bed, a chair, a clock and a TV up on the wall. As it would happen, nothing is on the TV but old Barnaby Jones re-runs. I watch them avidly in an attempt to calm myself. Family members arrive. We chat. I read a Cosmopolitan magazine. No pain yet. Nothing.
About 7 hours into the day, the obstetrician decides she needs to do something to deliver this baby. Since my uterus is just sort of spazzing along, she opts for a nifty little medication called Pitocin, which is injected into my IV. This wonder drug will take a sluggish labor, and turn it immediately into a world-class, championship labor. When the first, actual contraction hits - I burst into tears. This day has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. Having a baby is just no fun any more.
Labor is a peak experience. I don't recommend missing it. Labor is the very essence of Zen, as you are extemely present and in the moment. Each and every long, painful moment. It is pointless to try and describe what labor feels like. Mother Nature does us all a favor by allowing us to forget. However, I can tell you, the sensation is very much like attempting to pass a two by four, sideways through the pelvis.
This new and improved labor doesn't go on for long. Things progress in my body very quickly now. At one point, the obstetrician asks if I would like something for pain. I answer in the affirmative, and request Demerol by name. She informs me that they now have some wonderful new medications, which take pain away, yet don't cause the patient to be stoned. I answer that Demerol will be FINE… I get Demerol. I am high. I still have pain, but I don't seem to care about it as much. Now, my poor husband has to pee. He's been with me for about 9 hours - doing the whole, breathing bit - cheering me on. I tell him he cannot possibly leave me for even a minute. He is sitting at the foot of the bed, and I have one of my feet on his shoulder and the other foot on a nurse's shoulder. I suppose they're both looking at my parts… The obstetrician comes in and takes my husband's place so he can relieve himself. I now have one foot on the obstetrician's shoulder and one on the nurse's. I don't care. I am stoned.
Finally, the nurse tells me I can start to push, and if I do a good job of pushing, I might be a mommy in about 20 minutes. I'm down with that. I push and push. They take me to the delivery room and I push some more. One of the nurses in the delivery area is an old acquaintance of mine from college. She and I sort of "shared" a boyfriend, if you know what I mean. Today she gets to see me all bloated with child, feet in stirrups, face red from pushing. Karma. Plain and simple. Karma.
I push and push, but I still need a little help. So, husband and nurse cross their arms over my belly and together the push my stomach, and help the baby move on out. I finally get very good at the pushing, and my little one just sort of squirts out. She is covered in white gooey stuff - like hand lotion. At first glance, I don't think she's very pretty at all.
They snip her umbilical cord, and lay her on my stomach. Wow. There she is. The baby I've been singing to all this time. She is a beauty! They take her away for weights and measures, and while they're delivering the placenta (yuck…) and stitching me up (yikes!) her father is holding her, and dancing around the delivery room. She doesn't want to stop crying, so he brings her to me. I tell her not to cry, and that everything is all right. She stops crying, and it appears she's trying to focus her little eyes towards me. She recognizes my voice! She knows me! I'm in love!
Happy 14th Birthday!
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
One Last Bitchfest for the Road
Get the Popcorn Ready
I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|