Random Tuesday Thoughts – Remembering first child’s birth

Something pretty remarkable happened today a long time ago, I began a mother for the first time.  It seems without fail, every year on my daughter’s birthday my mind is taken back to that summer morning.

It was 1988, we were experiencing a horrible heat wave.  Now, this is something no one wants to be burdened with much less a pregnant woman on the verge of total cosmic chaos at any moment.  I was constantly told to watch for the first full moon near my due date as this was when my baby would arrive.  However, my baby wasn’t expected until mid-July. The full moon wouldn’t occur until the end of the month.  All I had on my mind was, “How on earth would I make it through the heat and humidity til this baby got here much less go to the end of July?”  I prayed for a miracle! 

At this stage in the game, a pregnant woman is absolutely miserable.  There is no sleeping through the night. Either the wee one aboard is restless and trust me with someone as petite as I am, every single move is felt or the soon-to-be mom wakes for frequent trips to the bathroom or Braxton-Hicks contractions (false labor) or both.  This is nature’s way of prepping her body for the real fireworks to come. Mommy is tired even before her baby comes.

I remember when I was younger the thought of having a baby scared me. I guess it was because it was the unknown.  It’s human to be afraid of what you do not know.  I knew with childbirth there was pain. The Bible says, “…in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children…”  Who likes pain?  No one!  I am no different.  I learned something about myself that by the time my due date drew near my fears diminished completely.  I didn’t care anymore about the said “pain”.  All I wanted to do was to not be uncomfortable anymore.

That June 28th morning at 3:30, I jumped out of bed quicker than you’d think possible.  I was 40 pounds heavier.  It looked like I had swallowed a whole watermelon.  My amniotic sack (water) had ruptured.  The show had begun – two weeks early and with the full moon only a day away.  “Wait, I can’t do this”, I thought. “I have two more Lamaze sessions to go. How will I know what to do?”  God gave me the miracle that I prayed for, though.

A first-time birth can take as long as 48 hours of labor before one’s bundle of joy is presented to the world.  I took a quick shower since I knew the doctor would ask me to come to the hospital once I called.  Robin stayed in bed, trying to catch a little extra sleep.  I don’t know if actually slept anymore beyond the point of learning we would soon be parents, but I allowed him the luxury of resting.

Before long, he got up to take a shower. I was anxiously ready to go to the hospital.  My contractions were steady, but I was still able to move around freely.  From the shower, my husband said, “Could you make me a sandwich to go?”  My first reaction was like, “What?” Then my sensibleness kicked in.  “Why should he have to do without, even though it may be hours before I could have my first nibble?”  Funny, you don’t even want food during this joyful and slightly scary experience.  Only our Creator could have known the perfect design, allowing our body’s nature response for food to not send a signal our brain which said, “It’s been hours since you ate last. Feed me now!”  Naturally, I obliged my DH’s request and made him a bologna sandwich for the road.

Women are emotional creatures.  This I fully acknowledge and accept total responsibility for as a God-given trait.  Men, on the other hand, are creatures of logic.  On that morning prior to scooting out the front door for the 10-minute drive to the hospital, my husband remembered he had to air up the slow leaking car tire.  Only a man would think like this, right? I know what you’re thinking, though. “How could he have done that?” Trust me, that’s precisely what I thought all those years ago.  My husband, as sensitive of a man that he is, doesn’t act upon emotions like I do.  He can maintain focus on what’s important.  His goal was to ensure that we arrived at the hospital safely and without incident. He made sure the tire had the proper pressure before leaving our driveway.

At the hospital is where all the fun happened. This was before nice birthing rooms were widely available.  I requested one (there were only two at the time) while I was being admitted and which at the time they did not have any opened. I was herded with the other moms in these little curtained off cubes in maternity. Once it was determined I was indeed in labor, like I needed someone to tell this, I was hooked to an IV.  I was going to go through with my plans of a natural childbirth, but I was assured if I changed my mind I could opt for an epidural. This was comforting to know.

I wanted to be mobile for as long as possible. With my IV pole and my lovely complimentary hospital gown, we walked out to the waiting room for Robin to use the pay phone. Cellular phones weren’t common toys as they are now.  We had a stockpile of quarters for calling family, to let them know this was the big moment.  It felt a bit uneasy sitting in the waiting area with some one’s else family.  I felt staring eyes like, “What is she doing out here?” It wasn’t like I had two heads or something.  I didn’t help that my lovely gown opened up in the back.  After all, I had my dignity to protect, right?  What dignity, you say. Yep, that goes out the window the moment you step into the hospital to have a baby.

By the time most of the calls were made,  I was not comfortable.  That’s an understatement, ‘not comfortable’.  My contractions were growing stronger.  I decided I needed to talk with the nurse about having an epidural. I was beginning to freak just a bit. Remember, I didn’t finish my Lamaze classes?   To put it plainly, I chickened out. The nurse set the epidural into motion, then she examined me, I was already 7cm dilated. Wow! It seems to be going quicker than I could’ve hoped for.

Before long the anesthesiologist arrived on the scene to administer a necessity of choice, but after almost three failed attempts the epidural sort of took on one side of my body. By then, it was time to start pushing.  The nurse called several times for the doctor, which I kept thinking if he doesn’t get here the nurse would have to deliver my baby.  Well, why not? I mean they do 99% of the work anyhow.  The doctor is more or less the umpire. He’s there to simply catch the baby. Okay…maybe not, but it felt like it by that point.

Finally, the doctor shows up with a big cheesy grin.  “Are we ready to have a baby today?”  I was like, “I’m more than ready!”  I’ll never forget when the doctor said, “I see a head full of hair.” My baby would have hair, unlike I did at birth.  I guess my heartburn during pregnancy was more than an old wives tale after all.  In fact, I found a recent article on CBS indicating the increased estrogen in the third trimester is linked to hair growth in a developing baby. Three pushes later and the doctor announced, “Its a girl!”

My emotions were completely overwhelming when I heard such delightful news. Maybe, it was just my crazy hormones. Whatever the reason, I just cried.  At 11:35 am, Brittany Alexandria Kennedy was born weighing 5 pounds, 13 ounces, and a shy over 19 inches long. Children are indeed blessings from God (Psalm 127:3).  This was the second happiest day of my life.

That was 23 years ago.  The years have slipped away all too rapidly. I wish I could hold onto my baby just a little longer, but now she’s a young lady living on her own.   Darling,  you’ve always been a blessing.  I thank God every day for bestowing me with a precious girl. I love you more than you know! Happy Birthday, Sweetie!

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