My Little Lost Boy

I was more than uncomfortable, I was miserable. Every few minutes I'd squirm and re-adjust my fat butt and even fatter belly. Nothing helped. Trying to focus on the finale of 'Lost' did not help either. I continued to push the excitement and fear out of my mind. Taking slow, deep silent breathes I tried to mentally prepare myself. We were scheduled to meet our son, Baxter in the morning. In my mind, I played the birth of our daughter over and over, taking mental notes of what I needed to do differently. Her birth was fast, a little painful but terrifying. By time I was moved out of triage, into a delivery bed and my neubane shot administered, she came. Ava came so fast I was not able to center myself, breath, focus and my pain medicine hadn't even had a chance to kick in. But this time would be different. It HAD to be different.

I took a deep breath, cuddled a little closer to my husband. Listening to the comforting thump of his heartbeat, I watched the last few minutes of the show with security. The security only a husband could give. Well, that and the knowledge that I was just several hours away from my inducement. I was relieved, knowing I would be in that hospital bed with my pain medicine and a chance to prepare during labor.

The show ended. Looking at the blank screen we were somewhat bewildered. Shaking my head I stood up. "Is that it? THAT'S how they wanted to end it? Whatever."

Laying in bed, waiting for Aaron to lock up I was feeling so lonely without Ava in the house. I also felt like I could not empty my bladder. As he nestled in bed next to me I contemplated making yet one more trip to the bathroom before surrendering to sleep. With a sound of frustration I flung back the covers, grabbed onto the bed post and hoisted myself up.

As I walked out of the bathroom I peeked inside the kids' room. I stood looking at Ava's empty crib. Soon, there would be another baby in that room. Turning to our bedroom, the strongest, loudest contraction overwhelmed my body. Grabbing onto the wall I braced myself. I breathed, closed my eyes and as soon as the contraction ended my body tried to push the baby out. I had missed the sign my water had broken. Perhaps I expected it to be like in the movies or on the television. Getting down the stairs and into the car was harder than I thought it to be. It was a dark, cold clear night and I struggled to keep myself from succumbing to what my body needed to do.

Possibly the worst experience of my life to date, but it was worth every F-bomb. Especially the one F-bomb which lasted five whole minutes. Baxter decided he did not want to wait six hours. Apparently, I had the look of a woman laboring as we made our way through the emergency room. Various strangers in various stages of emergency watched, stared as we headed straight to the Security stand which blocked our path to the Maternity Ward. The guard looked slightly stunned as he asked if I needed a wheelchair. Trying to smile the question off I mumbled the baby would come before he got us the chair. And waddled as fast as I could down the hall and thru the double doors.

At the desk I told her my name and it seemed they had lost my previously dropped off Admit paperwork. Standing there legs crossed I preceded to fill out the forms for the second time. Glancing at the triage waiting area I noticed a quiet, very pregnant young girl. Her face betrayed the fear she was holding in as she watched me. Trying to smile as not to scare her I looked at the nurse behind the desk and calmly stated that this baby was coming, RIGHT NOW. skipping me past triage they placed me in the delivery room they continued to call the on-call Doctor.

Being reassured he was on the way, I continued to stress the fact I wanted my neubane shot. NOW. I was and still am in shock at the unprofessional attitude of the nurses. More then once I was on the receiving end of snarky comments. They liked to point out that I was taking them away from their patients. Patients who were in labor before me, and thus ahead of me on their list.

Meanwhile, Baxter was on his way out and I was ordered to hold him in, breathe like I was blowing out a candle and wait for the Doctor. I remember pleading with the nurses to just let me push him out, all they had to do was stand there and catch him. When the on-call Doctor came, I felt relieved. However, that was short lived. I asked if I could PLEASE start pushing NOW, his reply: whenever. whenever, what kind of answer was that? So I pushed. I looked to the Doctor for guidance, he just sat there, waiting to catch the baby. Looking to Aaron, I asked how Schwabe did it. Was it three pushes and a rest? I think that was right. After flailing around, cussing and hurting a nurse I met my son in less than an hour.

He hurt, more than I thought he would. I actually was mad at the little big-headed boy. Soon Ava arrived and was able to meet her new little brother. She didn't know exactly how to react, but she did want to pick him up, hold him and kiss him, we let her. Since it was after one am, we had to let Ava go back to Grandma's and get to sleep. They gave me my after birth pills and sent me off to my private room. It was there where I was able to have our quiet, intimate bonding time. The sweet moments where I felt the deepest love for my son since he was born.

I could go on and on with more complaints of the hospital staff, but this blog post is in celebration of the birth of my sweet Baxter Isaac.

The hospital was quiet, lights in my room dimmed, and Aaron asleep on the pull-out. I laid Baxter on my chest, gently unwrapped him. Counting his toes on his chubby little feet, studying every sweet curve and dimple. Kissing his soft skin, trying not to wake him, but secretly hoping he would. Marveling at his blonde hair and dimpled chin, I held him to my heart, feeling his small heart beating, hearing it's rhythm, I fell asleep.














Born at 1:21am
7 lb 4oz 19in