My Son's Birth

The birth of my son tops my list as the most magnificent moment of my life. I remember it with detail too, although it was sixteen years ago. It began on a Friday in the afternoon, as my contractions started kicking in. What a way to begin a weekend, yes? Later that night my contractions were five minutes apart, and my mom insisted on calling the father's mom all the way in another town, so we could arrive in style to a hospital five minutes away if we walked there ourselves. Arrive in style we did!

When I arrived through the emergency entrance, the nurse on duty and both the grandmas helped transfer me from the car to the wheelchair, for I could barely walk by this time. As I was getting wheeled up to the ob/gyn floor, my head was swimming with thoughts of not knowing what to expect, for I was a young mother at eighteen, and scared. Once I was checked in, the on-call nurse had to check to see how far I wad dilated. I wasn't aware of how intrusive this would be, and I ended up crying out for the pain. I think I scared both grandmas for this!

I opted for a natural birth, for the hospital environment scared me! As a result, I choose a midwife instead of an actual obstetrician, a drug-free birth, and a birthing room setup to resemble more a room at home. Making all these choices made a big difference to me, for I felt more comfortable and more in control. Yet this was an illusion, for when the contractions started getting stronger, the pain was hard to tolerate. I would just breathe and pant through it, remembering my Lamaze classes.

Yet as calming and reassuring as those classes were and as the environment appeared, I couldn't sit still. I kept moving from the bed to the rocking chair to the shower to the hallway. The nurses even said I used up much of the hot water supply in the hospital, for needing it to soothe the labor pains in my back. I also kept talking to pass the time, and my birthing partner later commented I talked her ear off. I'm a nervous talker though.