I remember the day like it was yesterday. Actually I remember the day prior to that as well. I had my weekly appointment with my OBGYN doctor to determine whether or not he was going to induce labor. My due date was the following day. I was scared out of my mind. I convinced myself that not only would I go through an excruciating labor, feeling every contraction, kick, burning and squeezing this human fetus from a hole which was way too small for that shit, but I also convinced myself that I would die just after giving birth. Yes, my whole entire life I never wanted children for fear of certain and sudden death.
Secretly, I went to the doctor's office hoping he would tell me that the little creature inside me was not ready to come out, and I could host him a couple of weeks longer. I hoped, I prayed, I wished upon a star. My attempts were futile because doctor told me he would be inducing my labor on the following day. I smiled weakly, and I could have sworn I saw little devil horns on his head and fire shooting from his eyes. I knew I had a day left to live before I went straight to hell.
My mom went with me, and she came home with me, she knew I was scared. She promised to stay with me and comfort me. I soon learned that her idea of comforting me was calling up my unborn spawn's father to go out drinking to ease their nerves. Excuse me? Pregnant lady here, what do I get to do? I got to watch them drink and get plastered until I finally had enough. Luckily for me they picked a bar close enough that I could walk to. So I walked home...big, fat, pregnant and alone. I decided to take the opportunity while I was alone to write my Last Will and Testament. Only I didn't have anything of value to leave except my unborn child, so I left him to his father of course. Since that took all of 5 seconds to write, I decided to write goodbye letters to all of my loved ones. Telling them that I loved them and it was great knowing them. I think I wrote about 5 letters total. On the envelope "Please read in case of my death) and stashed them away in my drawer.
Finally I was able to go to sleep, and my mother and baby daddy came home around 5 a.m. smelling like a brewery. I think they must have intoxicated me with their fumes, because I felt super relaxed but kind of nauseous at the same time. I was to be at the hospital around 7 a.m. where they would break my water. My mom was with me, and baby daddy was in the hallway nursing his hangover.
They broke my water and it was like nothing I ever experienced before. I felt a gushing, I heard the water splash to the ground, I felt like I was in a pool. By then, my drunken mother was practically laying in the chair next to me. The doctor's and nurses avoided going anywhere near her. I don't think they wanted to assist me with my childbirth feeling as though they were under the influence.
After I stopped gushing and had my gown and sheets changed three times, my mom asked if I was ok. I wasn't, I was scared as sh*it but I didn't really feel any pain which surprised me. This was going to be easier than I thought. "Do you mind if I go home and get some sleep for a couple of hours?" my mom slurred. I wanted to say no. I wanted to punish her for leaving me alone to die on my last night on this earth. But I reluctantly said yes she could leave. I hoped that she would not get stopped by the police on the way home, because I was positive she was still very much drunk. At least she smelled like it anyway. She told me to call her whenever I needed her if the labor got to be too much. I think she figured she would have a few hours for a nice restful sleep before I called her.
Wrong.
Within 30 minutes the labor was coming on full force (or so I thought). I felt like I was getting kicked in the stomach over and over by a camel. I felt like someone was using my insides as a wet dishrag, wringing them out over and over again. I demanded that they call my mother. I wanted her there to live my last few hours of life with me, and to watch me endure the pain and suffering so that I could be viewed as a hero after my death. She came back right away, never complained but did fall asleep in the chair until my screams and cries would wake her up every so often. And then......yes then the miracle happened. They said I could have my epidural.
Oh epidural, how I love thee. I heard horror stories about how they shove the needle into your spine and how you have to be careful not to move or you could be paralyzed. And how much it hurt. Oh I heard storied about the agony. But when they came in with that giant needle, I was happier than a pig in mud. I whipped myself around on the bed, laying on my side....not caring that the gown had opened and my bear a*ss was exposed for everyone to see. I arched my back before they even instructed to. I think I even said "Put it in dammit, just jam it in!" I never felt pain, I welcomed the needle to my spine as I would welcome a bouquet of flowers on my birthday. I embraced it, I loved it. I felt no more pain. I thought to myself though, how ironic is it that I would go through a painless death? I kind of smiled to myself, thinking if I had to die this would be the way to go.
My joy was short lived though. 7 hours later, still no baby, still no death. But the epirdural was wearing off. I wanted them to jam another needle into my spine but they refused. I begged, I pleaded but they ignored me. I wanted to kick them in the teeth every time they came near me. But they assured me I needed to feel the contractions so I could begin pushing. "But I don't wanna push....can't you just pull him out? I cried. They denied me, the lazy bastards. So thus I began my pushing.
I pushed and I pushed. And then I pushed some more. Nothing. My sister-in-law was in the room with me, holding a towel on one end, and I had the other. Every time I contracted, I pulled and she pulled. It was a bloody tug-of-war and she was not going to win, I was. For an hour, I pushed......and they kept telling me as soon as I could get the head out, it would go quickly. Ok, well when the fuck is the head going to come out and how hard do I have to push? Not that I wanted to get it over and done with because remember, I still thought I was going to die while pushing...but dang it HURT. Finally my little one was making his way down and they could see his head start to come out. And man did that hurt like a sonofabitch. I was as though someone took a hot, searing butcher knife and was slicing my private region open. But I pushed and pushed, said a little prayer to God and told him I would see him soon and out came the head, man it must have been huge, I thought. As it turns out, the doctors didn't lie to me either. As soon as the head came out, his body flung out of me with one gentle push. Alas, he was here! All 8 lbs. 12 oz and 12 hours of hell.
I closed my eyes, ready to meet my maker. But as I heard the activity around me, my spawn giving that first wonderful cry and then them asking me if I wanted to hold my little boy (to which I said no, the fact that he was all bloody and covered in mucous grossed me out -- but they plopped him on my stomach anyway, the defiant fuckers) I realized that I lived. I survived! I made it! All my fears and anxiety was for nothing. I am free! I am woman, hear me roar! I am...... oh sh*it. I'm a mother now, and I have no clue what to do.
*Dedicated to my baby boy who turns 15 today! I love him!
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