I'll Fix All Your Problems - A Birth Story

Daughter of Dez II (DDII...I won't abbreviate it DOD as that is "department of defense," and that just doesn't set the right tone) arrived in the early morning hours over the weekend.

If you are an avid reader of GNABB, you already read the post below regarding our desire to once again have an all natural birth. That was the goal, but in the end if you get a healthy and happy baby, that is what really matters. We were concerned our goal would not be met, as she was about a week overdue and the doctor was starting to talk about inducing. Funny enough, about an hour after that appointment and while we were out to lunch, my wife started to feel somewhat consistent contractions. From about noon through the next 13 hours the contractions were maddeningly inconsistent (you are supposed to time both the length of each contraction and the time between the contractions to figure out where you are in the first stage of labor and also to give you an indication as to when you need to head to the hospital. But you see, there is an app for your smartphone to keep track of contractions now. Did people have babies before smartphones?) With DDI, we made the mistake of being too cautious and going to the hospital too early and ended up having most of the labor there. This time we wanted to do most of it in the comforts of home, and if anything, we kind of cut it too close going to the hospital this time around. It was early in the morning when the contractions started to be about four minutes apart (some three) and I decided, hmm, perhaps we should go.

Unfortunately, my wife started to hit what is generally considered the toughest and most painful part of labor, which is the beginning of second stage (called "transition"), just as we got to the hospital. For those who are not familiar: first stage of labor is the longest but also the easiest. She has contractions, but they are not consistent and generally not as intense as they later will be. This is essentially the body getting ready for the real action. Transition lets you know that the body is now ready to get this done, as the contractions get both more intense and more frequent, sometimes coming right on top of each other without a break. For those going the natural route, this is the most common point where people throw up the white flag and beg to be drugged. As a birth coach, this is where I have to be both most encouraging and firm, get her through transition, because the finish line is in sight. And to be blunt, it is too late anyway. If you wanted the painkillers and the drugs, for them to be really effective, you had to get them before transition. There is a point of no return here. After transition, there is the pushing and baby comes out.

ABOVE: At this point, I feel obligated to post a pregnancy diagram. Notice that the baby's hair is helpfully noted. It is on top of its head.

Once I got her situated in the delivery room, I had to run out to the car and get our stuff for labor and our hospital stay. You might think this is a minor part of the story. It is not. My wife never packs lightly. On top of the three suitcases and various bags of food and supplies to survive any sort of apocalypse that might occur while we are at the hospital, we have this massive birthing ball. It is basically one of those big exercise balls, but they are commonly used to sit on during contractions. In the parking garage, I had all of this stuff delicately and precariously balanced and holding it all with superhuman strength, all the while wondering whether my child was already born by this point. Anyway, the birthing ball fell off the stack of suitcases and bounced down the levels of the parking garage. I left the suitcases and chased down a large ball about half of my size bouncing and echoing through this garage at about 2:30 in the morning. Then I made a decision not to tell my wife that the ball she wanted to sit on and labor with had just rolled down several levels of a dirty, grimy concrete parking garage. (She, of course, never used the ball that I worked so hard to bring up).

I returned to the room after my parking garage adventures to find that I baby was still inside my wife. That was a relief. My wife is a bad ass. We are getting set up in the delivery room, finishing up paperwork, and getting the IV put in just as my wife is getting close to the toughest part of labor. All three nurses that we dealt with were great, especially one rather large and gregarious one. She was both very nurturing and sometimes sassy and firm when necessary, the perfect balance. You know that New Orleans lady in the Popeye's Fried Chicken commercials? Kind of like her. Anyway, she was great. (I am glad that I ran into her later in the day in the elevator in the hospital, because I was able to give her a sincere thanks, and even though she did not have a lot of experience with natural birth, she was so accomodating and willing to work with us as far as the hospital regulations would allow. The ultimate complement was that she said she would consider doing it that way herself).

Here is where the wife is so kick ass. She is going through what is the toughest part of labor, where in a natural birth especially you need complete focus and concentration. While she's going through this, the nurses are having some trouble getting the IV line in, mostly due to dehydration. Even though my wife was drinking a swimming pool's worth of water, dehydration is still a common problem. The fourth time was the charm, but it took awhile with some painful and distracting poking. Also, the nurses were not exactly quiet, often chatting it up when quiet and dark were needed for the best laboring. The doctor was almost a nonentity. He wasn't unfriendly, but he probably spoke five sentences the entire time he was there and pretty much let us do our thing and caught the baby when she popped out. My wife's normal doctor was on vacation, so we had to play doctor roulette and we got this guy.

They say that the second baby comes quicker than the first one. At least as far as the pushing stage and transition, that was true. The wife probably pushed for 45 minutes to an hour the first time, this time it was 16 minutes. That is still one of the more memorable moments, when that head comes out. It is the largest part that has to fit through the hole, and both times my wife let out a primal wail that was part pain, part determination, part excitement...right when that head has to squeeze through. Once the head is out, the rest comes out really quickly. I got to cut the cord, and the nurses got her lungs working and made sure she was alright, and then gave her to us. Here is where they were really cool, they let us keep her for about an hour before taking her back to the nursery. They normally don't do that, but again respecting our wishes they were very accomodating.

Once they did take her back to the nursery for further evaluation and a bath, I went back with her and my wife went to our room we would stay the next 24 hours. Most women after giving birth are wheeled into their rooms, but my wife got up and walked, even carrying one of her suitcases. This is right after giving birth. Our nurse was quite impressed, and I guess that is another benefit of going drug-free. You bounce back pretty quickly.

I've got to say, my favorite part of this whole experience was the next day when three year old DDI got to meet hours old DDII. Over the previous months we had been very careful to talk to her about baby sister and to make her feel like she will help take care of her. This was mainly to avoid the jealousy issues that you always hear about. The excitement on DDI's face on first seeing DDII, up until this point an abstract thing in the future, is hard to describe. She immediately ran over and stared, touched her little head, checked out her fingers and toes. Then she said some really funny things that I have no idea where they came from. My favorite was what became a little mantra for awhile: "don't worry baby sister, I'll fix all your problems." If only it were that easy. Through the next 40 years or so, I hope that I can help both of them fix whatever problems come their way.

ABOVE: DDI meets DDII. "Don't worry baby sister, I'll fix all your problems."

Thanks for reading, and I am sure I will post in the near future of the travails of raising two lovely but challenging daughters. I also have some thoughts on the rather substantial education reform (or, reform of reform) that just passed in Texas. But don't worry ANCIANT, now that this is out of the way, we can get back to the important matter of Van Morrison's latterday discography.