Twenty years ago today I went into the hospital to have my pregnancy induced for the birth of my third and final child. It took twelve hours for the induction to put me into labour and have the little guy start to make his way out of me. This meant for twelve hours I would not only have the enjoyment of labour pains, but vomiting, the medicine the doctor gives you to induce labour makes me quite ill, as it did for my two previous inductions. I had an epidural so the labour pains were quite manageable but when it comes time to push, they stop the epidural and you feel the extreme pain of labour. Okay for some woman, labour is as easy as eating a piece of cake but for me, well lets be honest it is just plain hell. For my first child, the entire process took twenty-four hours, for the second twelve hours, and another twelve for the final bundle of joy kid.
Finally, when he was ready to come down the birth canal I had to push. Well try pushing after vomiting off and on for twelve hours, I was tired and to be honest I suck at pushing. Luckily the vomiting had not stopped for me, so every time I puked, I was also pushing. Who knew you used the same muscles to wretch food from your stomach and to push a baby out of your uterus? Eventually my son’s head entered the world and the doctor asked me if I wanted to feel it. Well let me tell you right now, if the doctor asks you this question, don’t do it! I touched his head, and yelled “YUCK”. The doctor being quite surprised at my response, laughed and said it wasn’t “YUCK”, it was “beautiful”. Yeah, well he’s crazy. The head is slimy and gooey. I couldn’t see the head, being that I was still vomiting and apparently pushing, so beautiful, sure I guess.
Eventually our son came out and I was given the rest of the epidural medicine to try to give me some pain relief (my third pregnancy was my last because I have back problems and it was just to hard on me). I was cleaned up, and put in a wheelchair so my husband could bring our daughters in to see their new brother. After the doctor left, my husband took our daughters home, the nurses then left, and said they would be back in a few minutes to take me to my room. Well they lied, they forgot about me. So there I am sitting in a wheelchair, I can’t feel anything from the waist down due to the epidural, and I am holding my son, which is the precise time he found his lungs. So for a good thirty minutes I’m left holding a screaming child and I can’t move, I don’t have the strength to wheel the wheelchair with one hand, so I do what every woman does after twelve gruelling hours of labour, I cry. The boy is screaming and I am crying. Eventually a nurse finally returned, apologized profusely and took me to my room, while I was still holding the screaming baby.
Happy birthday son, your mom loves you.
The young man and his stuffed moose.
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