I bet you thought I was never going to get back to this, eh? Yeah, me either! So, there are a few challenges with documenting the last part of this now. One of which being that my brain sort of went on vacation during the whole thing, and the other being that it’s now been almost eight months since the mighty occurrence. Side note to expectant Moms: Blog now, if thou bloggest, for thou shalt not get much time to blog after thy infant arriveth. Thy infant is DEMANDING. But, I shall do my best to finish the story and I’m sure you’ll get the gist of the whole thing. Hint, it ends with a BABY.
So, at the end of my last birth story post, I was on the toilet in our labor and delivery suite, gripping the bar on the wall with great enthusiasm and lots of animal noises that hilariously filtered directly through the HVAC system to the waiting room where my brother was likely slowly growing more and more pale. Oh, and I was starting to push a little, which felt so good against those pesky contractions. Ron and Tammy were in the bathroom with me, and Crystal was popping in every so often to check on The Colonel, whose steady heartbeat would indicate continued to have just a jolly old time with this whole experience.
At this point, the contractions were pretty much relentless. There was basically no break between them. Maybe long enough to take a sip of water, catch my breath, and then hoo-boy, it was time to deal with another wave of “holy cow, WHAT IS MY BODY DOING?” Was it pleasant? No, not particularly. Did it hurt? Yes, you could say that. Was it the most awful awfulness ever? No, probably not. Did I ever think, “I should’ve taken the drugs?” Nope, not for a second. Would I do it again the same way? Absolutely. Even given that, was there a point at which I literally thought, “This is too much. I want to run away?” Yeah, there was. Did I do exactly what Tammy said I might and actually vocalize at one point that, “I don’t think I can do this anymore?” Yes, I did. And yes, at that point, she gently reminded me, just as she promised she would, that I WAS doing it. And I had to give it to her that she was right. I totally was doing it. Running away wasn’t an option. Also, doulas are awesome. They should be fully covered by insurance, required by law, and given exotic flowers every day for the immensely important service they provide. Continue reading