girlfiend

Part I
Part II

At 9:10, 12 hours after I got to the hospital the doctor told me it was time to start pushing. He reminded me of what to do. As I started to feel each contraction I had to inhale, exhale, inhale, push, exhale, inhale, push, exhale, inhale, push. Using his fingers he told me where to push, and said it might take a few tries, but I’d get the hang of it. They broke down the bed, had me put my legs in the stirrups and he told me to pull my legs back as far as I could while I pushed. The nurse stayed down at my leg, pushing one towards my head. Boyfiend stayed back behind me, pushing me forward as I pulled my legs back.

The first few tries weren’t easy. I wasn’t really sure if I was pushing right, and I guess I wasn’t because the doctor told me to push harder and pull my legs back further. I could feel the contractions, but the contraction monitor wasn’t working very well so the nurse didn’t know when to tell me to push. (The Fiendling was in such a position that my uterus was tilted, so the nurses were having trouble getting readings. Earlier they’d moved it around and around as I told them when I was actually contracting.) My nurse called in another nurse to help her figure out the monitor. Nurse 2 showed her how to feel my uterus to see when I was contracting. Since I knew when I was contracting I started to tell them, rather than wait for a cue.

The epidural wasn’t working as effectively as it had been earlier. I could feel the Fiendling’s head. It didn’t hurt, but the pressure was uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. Like way up there on a scale of 1 to 10 uncomfortable. The doctor left, and Boyfiend and the nurse coached me through the next round of contractions. After a while I could tell that I was getting better at it by the sound of Boyfiend’s voice. I’d had trouble gripping my swollen, waterlogged legs, so the nurse put up the bed’s handles for me, which made it much easier. I pushed and pushed and pushed, but it felt like nothing was happening.

Some of the residents I’d met earlier came in and out and stared at my vagina. They didn’t have much to say. The urge to push kept growing stronger. After the third push of each contraction I wanted to push again as it seemed like I’d just built up momentum. At the same time, I was pushing so hard that by the third push I felt light-headed. The doctor came back in. They could see a sliver of the baby’s head. I asked what that meant. apparently it didn’t mean a whole lot at that point. He told me to keep pushing and left.

Since the baby’s head was in sight I became a bit more determined to get it out of me. I pushed so hard I pulled the IV right out of my hand. The nurse got someone else to put it back in. I had to stop pushing for a while and the pressure was almost unbearable. They had trouble finding a vein that worked. They stuck me several times before they were able to find a spot where the IV port would stay. The contractions and the urge to push was so intense that I pushed while the nurse put the IV in and taped it.

More than an hour had passed. While it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be, I was exhausted. I was starting to worry that I wouldn’t be able to push anymore. I hadn’t eaten for more than 24 hours and I’d only had a few hours of sleep. The baby’s head was in sight, but it didn’t seem to be moving much. They kept telling me to push harder. I pushed harder. Boyfiend encouraged me. When he’d start to sound excited I’d push as hard as I could. The doctor came back in and said the baby was almost out, but he was going to use a vaccuum to help. Earlier in the pregnancy I was completely against the idea of a vaccum. At that point I just nodded and pushed.

The doctor could see more of the head. Boyfiend could see the head. The nurse could see the head. Push, push, push. PUSH. The head was out. Boyfiend was emotional. They suctioned the baby’s nose and mouth. One more push and the whole baby was out. 10.56 p.m. The doctor told us it was a boy. They put him on my chest and I cried and I held him as they wiped him off. Boyfiend cut the cord. They took my baby boy to the other side of the room to put him under the lamp and do his apgar scores. Boyfiend went with the baby and took pictures. I cried some more.

The doctor told me to push again. The placenta came out next. I didn’t want to look. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of my baby across the room. I needed stitches. I didn’t care. They footprinted my baby. His little footprints were the cutest things I’d ever seen. The stitches hurt like a motherfucker. The doctor gave me a local anaesthetic. I could still feel every stitch. But my baby weighed 6 lbs 8 oz. He was 19 inches long. He scored an 8 on his first Apgar and a 9 on the second. He was wearing a cute little striped cap and I cried because he was beautiful and we made him. It seemed like forever until the doctor was done stitching me. I asked how many stitches it was and he told me they didn’t count, but that the tear was natural and would heal easily.

They finally brought my boy back to me and asked if I planned on nursing. I said yes, unsnapped my gown and the little peanut opened his mouth and latched right on. He was a natural. He ate and ate and ate, surprising me, Boyfiend and the nurse. Even though he was supposed to go to the nursery for a bath and eye drops she left him with me because he was still eating. Another nurse came in and said our families were desperate for news. It was almost midnight. Boyfiend started out to the waiting room. I told him to put on a sweatshirt to hide the bloodstains on his shirt.

Another nurse told me my parents were outside the room waiting. I didn’t want them to come in. The delivery room looked like a slaughterhouse. It was unbelievable. I knew it’d be messy, but I had no idea of just how messy it would be. How do people deliver at home? Christ, I can’t imagine. The nurse told my mother to go away and meet me in the recovery room, but she tried to bust in anyway, I yelled for her to leave and she did. My poor father did not need to see the condition of the room.

The nurse gave me a pair of gauze underwear and an icepack and helped me into a wheelchair. I held my IV and she wheeled me down the hall to the recovery room where she helped me into bed and introduced me to the new nurses. The new nurses were nice and went to find me a sandwich and some juice. My mom came in and asked if I was wearing makeup. Puzzled I told her no. She told me I looked beautiful. I guess all the pushing gave me some color. Boyfiend’s parents and sister came in. They told me the baby was beautiful. I sleepily agreed. Everyone left but Boyfiend. The nurses brought me food and paperwork. Boyfiend got food in the cafeteria. At 2 am they finally, after what seemed like forever, brought me my baby. He was hungry. I still can’t get over how beautiful he is.