Look here for Part One and Part Two!

Twenty four hours later we arrived at the hospital– again. And yes, they let me stay even though I was at only three centimeters. “Three centimeters, are you kidding me – THREE!” They assigned us to a room that was the size of a closet somewhere off in Wing Z. I was pretty sure that this was where they left the “no insurance” mothers to labor and deliver on there own. Or, quite possibly, with the help of members of the janitorial staff. I started to cry.

The next twenty four hours were a blur of ice chips and jello. They would come in and check me every few hours and tell me I was going slow, (“Really, really?”) and doing well. But I knew the truth, you were never coming out. I cried some more, and blamed your father.

Just when I thought that all was lost, and I was going to go into Ripley Believe It Or Not as the worlds longest labor, it happened – transition. It was a big contraction, a real winner, and then it didn’t end. It just went right into another, and another, and another. I could barely gather enough breath to scream at your father. “Make it stop! Turn it off! You jack-ass, do something!!!!” He tried giving me ice chips and I backhanded them across the room. He took out the tennis ball to rub my back, and I tore it in two with my teeth. He told me to breathe slowly and I just glared at him. He said later that it was like something out of the movie the Exorcist. When my eyes turned a strange shade of green, and I started hissing through my teeth – off he went for the nurse.

They laid me back on the bed with a few pillows, knees up and spread to check me and to direct the pushing. Grunt, groan, agony. Grunt, groan, agony. Over and over till you finally started moving – just as I felt some forward momentum and possibly crowning the nurse brought in the wheelchair. “WHAT? Are you *%#@- ing kidding me, you want me to get up and get in the chair now?” Yep, that was the plan. Into the chair and then a short ride to the delivery room, where I had to climb into a birthing chair that I had never seen and didn’t know how to use. By the time I was situated the doctor had appeared on the scene with twenty three students, four interns, a half dozen residents, and the homeless guy from the corner. They were three deep in places – it was like a home football game – they needed bleachers.

“This won’t hurt..” Never trust a doctor who says that, it is a lie from the pit of hell. Snip, snip, and I had an episiotomy. Grunting, groaning, and agony for a few minutes and then that devil pulled out the Vacuum Extractor! I guess things were not moving along fast enough for him. It looked like a small plunger attached to a vacuum hose. And yep, you guessed it, they stuck it up my hoo-haa and attached it to your head. Then they started pulling —– Aghhhh —— I screamed. It was like someone was pulling my intestines out with their bare hands. The doctor (sick sadist bastard) was on some sort of power trip and quickly told me “No need for that now (meaning the scream)…” as he pulled again. Completely full to the brim with anger, I gave one final push I birthed you and a hemorrhoid the size and color of a plum.

Your APGAR was eight – and I only had a slight panic attack when I had another contraction to deliver the placenta – “Twins?” The intern that was set to catch it assured me labor was not starting again! Praise God! “Are we done?” I asked as they wrapped you in a blanket and set you in my arms. “All done but the sewing… “ and so it went on for another twenty minutes – stabbing and pulling.

The intern that sewed me up forgot to remove the Vag-pack (a round pack of gauze the size of my fist) , I managed to deliver that the next day through my stitches. That was fun! You nursed like a trooper, pooped on schedule, and three days later we got to go home. And that my darling Honey, is your birth story.

Love from your Mother,

Queen B.

Dear Honey, This is your Mother speaking.

I see everyone doing this new “Birth Story” thing; I thought to myself, maybe you would like to have yours – as a keepsake of how you came into the world 29 years ago last month. So my dear, in honor of your Birthday- I have decided to tell you your very own “Birth Story”!

Ground rules:

1. Remember things were different then, this is a “Retro Birth Story” really. Kind of a history lesson of sorts. Not that I am that old… but you are.
2. I am not going to start at the very beginning, if you know what I mean. Every time the subject comes up of your Father and I having any sort of a sexual relationship you start running around the room sticking an imaginary stick in your eye and screaming “I can’t get the pictures out of my mind!!!” Lets not go through that again shall we?
3. If I happen to add pictures – be kind. You too will look back 30 years from now and wonder what kind of drugs would numb your mind and innate sense of style, to such an extent that you would wear some of these maternity fashions.

Now, onto the story.

You were not a planned pregnancy. I know that this may come as a shock to you. Birth control never seemed to work for us. Your father likes to say “We defied all forms of birth control one at a time…” and you my dear were the first. Personally, I believe if the package says 97% effective, you should expect triplets.

We found out about you (our little blessing) on a road trip vacation we were taking prior to Left Brain (your Father) starting Medical School. I spent the scenic drive around Lake Michigan in the back seat of our blue ’67 Mustang with my feet hung out the little back window. Your Father was in the front relating the sights and scenery to me and the dog, who was taking my place in the front seat. We had to stop periodically so I could run into the bushes at the side of the road and throw up.

Fast forward a few months, and we arrive at Lamaze Classes. They were sponsored by the hospital then, the cost was twenty dollars, and all the forward thinking, hippie types were doing it. The classes consisted of 8 couples – husbands and wives – yes everyone in our class was married, to each other no less! We were mostly first year Medical student couples – doing this for the first time and trying to act like we were veterans. Eight classes, twice weekly, and homework assigned for the days in between. I remember “Packing your overnight bag for the hospital” was one of the more thought provoking homework lessons. The big draw was printed in the brochure…. Movie of an actual birth – session #7.

When asked on the first day of class what type of birth we were doing, we all said “Natural”, rather smugly. As if just the act of making the decision was all there was to it. We were smart, cocky women in our twenties. Having grown up in the sixties and seventies we were a oozing with womanly confidence – we opened our own doors – we let the hair grow on our legs – we we didn’t wear bras unless we wanted to. I felt like the Captain of the Starship Enterprise as I confidently piloted it off into the unknown,”Direct course to planet Perfect Delivery “—- “Left-Brain, make it so.” Natural to us meant no drugs for pain. That was it – simple.

Session #4 – There was one couple missing – the instructor announced that our new friends, Keith and Andrea had given birth to a healthy baby boy! Ahhhh, Ohhhhh, clap,clap. Lucky us, she had talked them into coming later tonight to give us their story. More clapping, cheering and great anticipation. About an hour later a haggard, rumpled whisp of a man came through the door. At first glance I thought that this guy had obviously gotten the wrong room – the AA meeting was down the hall Mister! But then I realized it was him, our new friend, Keith, alone. He spoke slowly and quietly, his head down, occasionally running his still shaking hand through his unwashed hair and mumbling. “It had started two days ago with her water breaking at the kitchen sink. …” He continued to a suspenseful audience. Excitedly they had grabbed their “birth bag” and “labor journal” and headed for the hospital. Five minutes into the drive she had her first contraction. Unfortunately, she grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and his thigh with the other. They went veering wildly into the median, hopping briefly over into oncoming traffic. By the time the contraction ended and he had control of the car they had mowed down a half a mile of decorative conifers and flowering tulips. Then next contraction had her on the floor below the front seat screaming that she had changed her mind and didn’t want to do this anymore. By the time they got to the hospital she had announced that she hated children, and was loudly praying to St. Jude that his penis would fall off. The class was silent.

Session #5 – Two more couples gone. We waited for our cheery instructor to tell us the news. One girl and one boy. Mild applause. Secretly, at break time, Kurt and Lisa shared with the rest of us nervous newbies that they were friends with one of the missing couples. It had not gone well, posterior presentation, back labor, two hours of pushing culminating in a C-section they whispered.

Session #6 – We visually took attendance the minute we hit the door. We were all there, the last five couples. Relief was short lived as the unusually solemn instructor told us that couple number three was having some postpartum depression problems. The beautiful baby girl had been released to the care of the father, while the mother had been admitted to the Psych unit for an undetermined amount of time. Gasp!

Session #7 – The movie of the live birth. During the preparation you could have heard a pin drop. But once the lights went out the sniffing and whimpering began. During the very realistic pushing scene we had one fellow jump to his feet and run from the room covering his mouth with his sweaty hand and wretching. Note: Your father turned to me,looked me right in the eyes and said “Must have been something he ate.” It’s a miracle we are still married.

To Be Continued!

So I’ve been reading birth stories lately- although I’m not sure why, because I’m currently in a state of mind where not having kids seems like the best idea. **Speaking of birth stories- Queen B. is currently writing her birth story with me because she says all the birth stories are so recent, and we should all know what natural birth looked like in the early-80′s. She’s entitling hers as A Good Old Fashioned Birth Story.

While reading I stumbled across a site called Offbeat Mama, and happened to catch an article where they announced that they are changing their verbiage about birth, transitioning from natural vs. unnatural birth to medicated vs. unmedicated birth. The intent was to not perpetuate the drama that ensues between the two sides, and instead sparked a very interesting debate amongst the commenters.

One of the biggest things I noticed was quite a bit of discussion about what exactly a natural birth means. Someone put out there that natural birth meant intervention-free birth, but then someone else said that’s not quite accurate because most home births include at the very least a doppler and internal exams, and that really can’t be called intervention-free can it?

But beyond the definition many commenters felt that by saying natural birth, it implies that anyone who doesn’t have a birth that fits their definition of natural therefore, by default, had an unnatural birth. That’s quite a statement, and I think its fair of a website to want to tone that kind of statement down- but that being said, I’m not sure a medicated vs. unmedicated birth fits the bill as a replacement for natural birth either. And incidentially, if you look up natural on dictionary.com, it doesn’t say a thing about birth!

But if you look even further, beyond what natural birth does or does not mean if we could pull it up in a dictionary, there is the underlying edge of competition and superiority that comes with your choice of birth. The word natural has a different meaning for every person who uses it, but that one simple word is used as a declaration, a weapon, and a judgment all wrapped up in seven little letters. No wonder you see the hackles go up on the Epidural or C-Section Mom’s!

So, regardless of what kind of birth you have had or would like to have- what does it mean to you if someone says the words natural birth?

Dear Honey, this is your Mother speaking.

Thank you for returning your sisters Kindle, after only a year – she is very grateful – as am I.

You can imagine my shock when the Apple B. started whining about the 67 additional titles you have loaded up her gigabytes with. Just wanted you to know that I took your side in the matter, but she continued mumbling about there being not one in the bunch that she wanted to read ! “Oh please, of course there is – let me look…..”

Good Grief Honey, I didn’t know there were that many books on Childbirth in print! I have listed a few of my favorites, with comment of course.

Childbirth Without Fear – They obviously have never spoken to your Italian Grandmother for more than two minutes. “Just one more (horror) story before you go into labor dear….and don’t forget to put the Oregano under your tongue!”

Childbirth Across Cultures – Was there any doubt, in anyones mind, that they did this in other lands?

Childbirth At Home – Start at home, fine Honey, just finish the job at the Birthing Center.

Childbirth: A History – And we still can’t figure out the best way to do this! 

Childbirth Theory and Research?- You must be kidding, I thought you were the only one on earth to study this sort of thing!

Painless Childbirth – Simply put? A misnomer.

Birth Partner Handbook- So much responsibility these days. When I was born your Grandfathers part consisted of the bill. I can tell your right now that your father would not be up to the job if we had to do this over again. Specifically the chapter on massaging your birthing princesses you-know-what with olive oil? Has Marmot read any of these?

Ultimate Breastfeeding – I know he hasn’t read this one ….

Womanly Art of Breastfeeding – Or this one either!

I’ll buy your sister a book, poor thing, she has nothing to read.

Love from your Mother,

Queen B.

Hollywood’s Take on Childbirth was a fun post to write, but the best part were the comments….it was hilarious to hear what everyone else ‘knew’ about childbirth via Hollywood!

And its gotten me on a new obsession, birth stories. I’ve been reading them non-fricking-stop for the past two weeks. I’m obsessed with the Bradley Method. And I’ve been researching doulas. Stop the madness!

My three favorites: Kristal at Good Food, Good Friends, Good Life, Allison at O My Family, and Jill at Baby Rabies.

Ok don’t stop the madness. Because I’m having so much fun reading, and I want more! I want to know about your birth story/ies….do you have yours on the web? Have you read one somewhere that was inspriring/disgusting/interesting/otherwise? Feed my addiction, educate a wanna-be, link up ladies!

So the other night I watched Knocked Up, which is one of my favorite movies (love Katherine Heigl, she’s so sweet and girl-next-door) and saw the birth scene through new eyes! I realized how much of what I thought I knew about childbirth was based on TV. And I can’t believe I just admitted that to the blogosphere! But since really digging into the options available and making decisions about what I hope to have in a birth, I’ve realized how much my thoughts have changed. Now for years I’ve watched A Baby Story, 18 Kids and Counting, Knocked Up, Four Christmases, and all manner of birth-related productions that present childbirth in one light or another. And I was a rapt student. Thanks to Hollywood and popular culture, here is what I had ’learned’.

Natural Birth: The choice of masochists, women who don’t shave their armpits and have children named Moon Flower, and optimistic first-time mothers who don’t know any better. The first-time mothers will see the optimism wear thin once labor really gets rolling (when its too late for an epidural) and have to endure labor screaming and writhing. The women who are lucky enough to get an epidural in time are so relieved to have escaped the horrors of natural birth. Those who claim to have had a pleasant birth through water birth, hypnobirth, or orgasmic birth are lying. These are also the people who may do weird things with the placenta.