Delivering #3

My precious 9 year old boy has enjoyed hearing the stories from my blog of how some of his siblings were born. However, he has patiently (and sweetly) been asking when I would tell his story.

***(I read a "censored" version to the kids leaving out any "mature-audience" info.)***

After several months of marriage counseling, my husband and I made the decision to get pregnant. I use the word "decision" lightly because the truth is I was not convinced the relationship was going to survive. But there was tequila involved, and well, the bedroom was not one of our problem areas, so... I guess we figured we had staunched the flow of blood from the slit jugular of our marriage...not realizing (or accepting) it was only a bandaid on a lethal wound.

So here we were and I quickly I grew very attached to the little baby that my body was cuddling so close to my heart. I found out I was having a boy at 17 weeks. My husband and sister were with me and we all cried. I really wanted a boy, but I was afraid to hope. I didn't ever want to feel even a glimmer of disappointment, so I was always "prepared" mentally for a 3rd girl. But, WOW!, there it was...a little boy in all his glory. It was such a thrill. His name would be George after my grandfather.

Since I was having a boy this time, my friends wanted to throw a baby shower for me since I was moving away a few weeks after delivery. We planned to get together at a restaurant 2 weeks before my due date. When I went to my regular appointment early in the morning that Friday, my blood pressure was really high and they sent me right over to the hospital. I didn't even call my husband. I assumed they would have me lie down, take it again and send me home. When they tried to get me to change into a gown I knew they had something different planned. I promptly burst into tears and begged the doctor to let me go home. I had 2 little ones about to get home from school and I wasn't there. More importantly, my baby shower was scheduled for that night. He finally relented since my pressure had stabilized, but told me to get back ASAP if I experienced any symptoms of high blood pressure. He said I could go to my party, but then to rest. Instead, I plotted.

I had decided that regardless of how I felt, I would CLAIM "high blood pressure" symptoms and go to the hospital first thing in the morning. It was better timing for us. Since it was a Saturday, we could have friends keep the girls, and we could have the baby and be back home by Sunday night. Ahhhh, the naivete of youth (or general insanity caused by being almost 10 months pregnant, about to move away from my family, my friends, my therapist and my hometown of 20 years... into my IN-LAWS house until we could afford our OWN house while my husband...of the going-through-the-motions-so-people-will-think-I-want-to-save-my-marriage variety... worked at a job where he would travel 90% of the time for no more money, and I wasn'ton my anti-depressants because I was PREGNANT... so maybe I wasn't exactly thinking CLEARLY at this point!)

Anyhoo,

According to our plan, I got up at the butt-crack of dawn and called my sister-in-law so she could drive down from North Carolina in time to videotape the birth (I had my priorities). I left a message for my sister (who was still single and loving it) to meet us at the hospital if she wanted to come. Then I got in the shower so could shave my legs for delivery. In my enormity, I had let them go for a few days (or weeks...again, I had my priorities.) The minute I got in, my head began pounding and I saw all kinds of blinking spots in front of my eyes (the two MOST noticeable symptoms of high blood pressure). I got out (after I finished shaving) and called the doctor. He said "GO NOW! Get in de car (he has an accent that I love), do not dake shower, do not beck beg, get to hospitale immediately!" I might have swallowed my tongue just then. Now I was a little anxious.

We arrived at the hospital, discovered my blood pressure was elevated but not dangerous yet (phew) and the doc came in to see me. I asked him to break my water and get things moving. He walked away and came back with a big ole knitting needle in his hand. ZOIKS! I said, "Wait! Are you just going to do it?" He replied, "My mudder tell me once dat when a woman tell you do someting, you do eet, firs time." So he did.

While we waited for the action to begin, we told the nurses the whole story about my last labor; my sister-in-law lying about my pain-killer, and how my younger sister fainted (see Delivering #2 for details). We were laughing and chatting it up the whole time. Then my contractions got pretty strong pretty quick. I asked for my epidural (MYSELF), and became belligerent when anyone came in the room who didn't have a needle to put in my spine. Once my epidural kicked in, it was smooth sailing.

When Sydney arrived a few minutes later, the "student nurse" asked her if she was the Liar or the Fainter? (chuckle, chuckle) A little while later they asked me if it would be okay for the "student nurse" to empty my bladder. Now if you've had children, you know what that means. All I can say is that I should have said no, but I thought...well, she has to practice, right? Well let's just ask ourselves this, how difficult could it be? There aren't that many choices, right? Right.

Well, bless her little 21 year old blond heart, she thought she had it. Nope, says Head Nurse looking over her shoulder, that's her vagina. (I tried not to laugh out loud, but I did.) TEN MINUTES later... nope, still her vagina. Now we're all really laughing. Imagine it: me, hanging out there for15 minutes while my spouse and sister-in-law are sitting in chairs across from her at eye level watching her CONCENTRATING with her nose like 4 millimeters from...ya know... and still MISSING the HOLE! I think my husband had a better shot at getting it right...or myself. Finally, Head Nurse does it, first time, in about 2 seconds and she managed to stay in a totally upright position the whole time. I know I'm a trouble-maker, but I couldn't help it... I asked if the student nurse had slept through catheter class... Yee gads.

After the debacle with the candy-striper, my little sister appeared a little hung over from Friday night. Our nurse-in-training said, "Ohhhhhhh, you must be the Fainter." Ha ha. But it gave us something to go with... as labels were given and roles assigned, we laughed as my husband admitted that he must be the "Culprit"...leaving me to be none other then WHAT? "The Victim." Laughs all around. There was suddenly pressure on my tailbone, and I knew we were going to start pushing soon. Since this was my last baby (hmmmmm...) I asked for a mirror to watch. When it arrived (all 6 feet of it), I got a look at why "Nurse Barbie" couldn't figure things out. And my exclamation of shock and disgust is captured on the video for all eternity. (That's what editing software is for...)

Everyone takes their place, the doc is trying to get suited up, my younger sister decides to stay by my head, and the nurse (the REAL one) starts yelling at me to stop pushing. "I'm NOT pushing!" Then why is the baby's head moving down? "I don't know...YOU'RE the nurse!" Everyone is yelling at me now, but cross-my-heart, I was NOT pushing. But right there before my eyes, sure enough, his head is moving down toward the exit. WOW!

I guess my body had just totally taken over... The doctor LITERALLY gets his gloves on and turns around, and George's head was just about out! He says, "OK now dear, one push", and out he came...all 8 pounds 6 ounces of him. The doctor holds him to give me a closer look, and my darling new baby takes his very first WHIZ all over me. Signs of more to come? I hope not, but that child definitely finds humor in all things potty-related. The doc is cracking jokes about how he hopes he gets paid since he barely did anything...blah blah, and when he starts making comments about my "fleshy placenta (yuk)" we all yelled to my sister...DON'T LOOK!... already a little green, she mumbles...too late.

Oh well, she stayed on her feet and even took over the camera. It was a room full of much celebration and light-hearted banter. By far, my most perfect delivery. To this day. George is the funniest kid to cross the threshhold of my heart. He has kept my spirits up through countless crises just through his very existence. At 9, he still crawls up into my lap... sometimes because he needs it and sometimes because I do.

All three of my babies from my first marriage are amazing, resilient kids. They have faced things that the other two won't have to, and they've come through it with grace, brilliance and a lot of love in their hearts. They aren't perfect, but they're mine and that makes them perfect for me, for this family. It is my hope (and my prayer) that I can live up to be the kind of mom that they deserve.

George's namesake was a kind, tender-hearted, sharp, witty, playful and compassionate man. Sometimes I'm shocked that my little boy shows so many of those same character traits in such a young guy. He only met my grandfather once before Granddad went to watch the rest of the show from a much better place. But I like to think that he would have really enjoyed my little man. Sometimes when George delivers a one-liner so fast and smooth and totally out-of-the-blue, I believe he's getting his material straight from Granddad himself...whispered in his ear on the wings of some bug.