Labor, birth, repeat
I was thinking the other day about when my kids were born. They're all so big now, I can't believe how they've grown. Seriously, I can't even grow house plants, I'm suprised they made it this far!
I had just turned 20 years old when my first daughter was born. I was married to the heroin addict, and this was the first child for both of us. Luckily, the day I went into labor, he had just been released from jail so he was able to drive me to the hospital.
It was 7:30 on a Friday morning in January. It was cold. I was very uncomfortable. The car we had at the time had been given to us by a friend of his who was a repo man - a 1977 Toyota Corolla. It was a standard, about as big as an egg, and for some reason the gear shift was in the glove box. The husband asked if I thought I could shift while he drove. Um, no, I'm busy preparing to shoot a small person out of my body, you'll have to shift yourself.
He gets the notion that we need to take a short cut to the hospital. A short cut. Two hours later, we arrive at the ER. Never trust a short cut from a junkie. The only short cuts he knew would have led to a score, and although I was in a lot of pain, I was in no mood for all that!
I go inside, they check me, and a delightful little nurse with a heavy Southern accent says to me, "Well, sugar, it looks like y'all are gonna have a baby today!" I knew this, but I started to panic anyway.
"No, I'm not ready, I need to go home and make some phone calls."
Yeah, that was gonna happen. She just laughed and gave me an enema.
The pain didn't start to get really bad until the afternoon, at which time I begged for some sort of medication. I was in the county hospital, as we had no insurance, so I figured the best I would get was an aspirin. They surprised me by providing a shot of Demerol. Yikes. I puked, but the pain got a little better. I stayed in the labor room for hours, vomiting every time a contraction hit.
Finally they say I'm ready, and start to wheel me down the hall into a delivery room. They stop in the middle of the hall to pick up some paperwork, and the nurses tell me not to push, just to hang on for a few minutes. Sorry, ladies, this child is coming out. I threw my legs up in the air and made the most god-awful noise you've ever heard. My mother heard me screaming from the waiting room. They grabbed my bed and rushed me into the delivery room, so I'd stop scaring the other patients.
The pain, oh my god, the pain! It was harsh, and it seemed like it would never go away. I'm screaming, I'm crying, I'm pushing, I'm puking, and my husband is sitting there with this stupid, goofy-ass look on his face. I just wanted to punch him, but I refrained.
Finally, after hours of agonizing pain and all that suffering, she was born. It was a wonderful moment. She was pretty cute for a newborn. I was ready to relax and rest. I started to doze off after I got to see her and make sure that she was ok. I drifted off into a happy sleep, no more pain, I was so relieved! I had only been out for about 10 minutes, and my favorite nurse comes in and wakes me up.
And in that most wonderful Southern accent, she says to me: "Now sweetie, I know this is your first baby and all, so I have to show you this. In order for your uterus to go back to its na'mal size, what you have to do is take your fist, shove it in your stomach, and twee-est. Here, let me show you..." and proceeded to punch me in the gut repeatedly with her sharp little fist.
Are you kidding me?
And the screaming returned. So much for my happy nap.
The amazing thing is that I actually chose to do this two more times! I'll tell you about those another day, I'm exhausted from this one.
I had just turned 20 years old when my first daughter was born. I was married to the heroin addict, and this was the first child for both of us. Luckily, the day I went into labor, he had just been released from jail so he was able to drive me to the hospital.
It was 7:30 on a Friday morning in January. It was cold. I was very uncomfortable. The car we had at the time had been given to us by a friend of his who was a repo man - a 1977 Toyota Corolla. It was a standard, about as big as an egg, and for some reason the gear shift was in the glove box. The husband asked if I thought I could shift while he drove. Um, no, I'm busy preparing to shoot a small person out of my body, you'll have to shift yourself.
He gets the notion that we need to take a short cut to the hospital. A short cut. Two hours later, we arrive at the ER. Never trust a short cut from a junkie. The only short cuts he knew would have led to a score, and although I was in a lot of pain, I was in no mood for all that!
I go inside, they check me, and a delightful little nurse with a heavy Southern accent says to me, "Well, sugar, it looks like y'all are gonna have a baby today!" I knew this, but I started to panic anyway.
"No, I'm not ready, I need to go home and make some phone calls."
Yeah, that was gonna happen. She just laughed and gave me an enema.
The pain didn't start to get really bad until the afternoon, at which time I begged for some sort of medication. I was in the county hospital, as we had no insurance, so I figured the best I would get was an aspirin. They surprised me by providing a shot of Demerol. Yikes. I puked, but the pain got a little better. I stayed in the labor room for hours, vomiting every time a contraction hit.
Finally they say I'm ready, and start to wheel me down the hall into a delivery room. They stop in the middle of the hall to pick up some paperwork, and the nurses tell me not to push, just to hang on for a few minutes. Sorry, ladies, this child is coming out. I threw my legs up in the air and made the most god-awful noise you've ever heard. My mother heard me screaming from the waiting room. They grabbed my bed and rushed me into the delivery room, so I'd stop scaring the other patients.
The pain, oh my god, the pain! It was harsh, and it seemed like it would never go away. I'm screaming, I'm crying, I'm pushing, I'm puking, and my husband is sitting there with this stupid, goofy-ass look on his face. I just wanted to punch him, but I refrained.
Finally, after hours of agonizing pain and all that suffering, she was born. It was a wonderful moment. She was pretty cute for a newborn. I was ready to relax and rest. I started to doze off after I got to see her and make sure that she was ok. I drifted off into a happy sleep, no more pain, I was so relieved! I had only been out for about 10 minutes, and my favorite nurse comes in and wakes me up.
And in that most wonderful Southern accent, she says to me: "Now sweetie, I know this is your first baby and all, so I have to show you this. In order for your uterus to go back to its na'mal size, what you have to do is take your fist, shove it in your stomach, and twee-est. Here, let me show you..." and proceeded to punch me in the gut repeatedly with her sharp little fist.
Are you kidding me?
And the screaming returned. So much for my happy nap.
The amazing thing is that I actually chose to do this two more times! I'll tell you about those another day, I'm exhausted from this one.
posted by Jenn at
11:14 AM
5 Comments:
Thanks :)
No comment? I thought it was pretty funny.
LOL, huge head. None of mine came out huge, thankfully, but it still felt like they weighed 10 pounds apiece.
My second one - very traumatic. But when I had my son, I had a doc who insisted on an epidural. Right on, doc.
Yikes! I don't want to see the men gone, I do still enjoy most of them. As often as possible. LOL!
Thanks, Mc. I think you are my biggest fan. :)
I'm working on the book, piece by piece, but i really want to finish my play first. That's really taking it out of me right now.
Thanks Laura. :)
16 is legal in Texas. SWEET!
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