Well I’ve been told the gory details are wanted so here we go.
Once the contractions got rolling it was probably the most pain I’d felt in my life until then. Most women told me contractions go from your pelvic bone to the top of your tummy and often through the back. Mine were not that at all. They were only in my lower belly and were 2 mins apart very quickly. Almost before I realized that this was labor I was on my side moaning and shaking. About 30 mins after that I began to vomit.
I spent 2 hours on my left side grunting and praying I wouldn’t vomit again. Then the beautiful number 4 was said. I knew at 4cm they would give me the Epidural and I could end this pain. Yes the idea of something going in my spine weirded me out but at that moment if they said shooting my eye ball full of crack was how they did it I would have gone along with it.
I was pleasantly surprised that not only was the Doctor fast getting it done but there was NO PAIN. None. I got a shot of Novocaine then withing moments the drugs were in. Within 30 seconds I said “I finally feel human again.” It was so fast that it almost didn’t register it was done before the pain was gone. From there the next few hours were wonderful. Chatting dozing off…wonderful.
Then came pushing time. I admit right here right now I was not brave. I did not go into this part of bringing my son into the world calm. I screamed, I cried, I swore I couldn’t do it. I wanted to give up. I hated every, single, second. In between contractions and pushing I laid on my side trying to not vomit. Except I did.
I vomited, I pooped myself, I’m sure I probably peeded too. I didn’t care. All I could do was think about how miserable I was and how much I hated this. When my doctor got her scrubs on I knew we were in the home stretch. And I did get a bit of a new breath. I pushed harder even through the pain, even through the hate. All I cared was that it was almost done. And selfishly not because it would bring me my son but because it would bring me the end of the pain.
Then I felt his head, right at the opening of my vagina. He was there. It was almost done. They were counting then telling me to rest. FUCK THAT. I kept pushing. I pushed so hard he came out so fast my doctor couldn’t turn his shoulders and he tore me. I didn’t care.
I didn’t care not because the pain was gone, not because it was over but because I saw his face. Between my knees, scrunched in anger, full of blood and wet but there he was. They put him on my chest and the only thing I could say was “Oh my God you are a beautiful baby.”
There is no question in my mind he was worth it. Would I do it again? Most likely not. But if I went back in time to before there was a him but I knew what it would take to get him here I’d do it again in a heart beat.
He’s worth every stitch, the hemorrhoid. He’s worth the Bell’s Palsy in my face, the blood pressure worries. There is something about giving birth but to me it’s not the process of labor and delivery. It’s that one moment you see the baby for the first time. There is no magic like that out there, no other moment in time, no other feeling.