Labor Day

Four years ago, at this time, I was in a lot of pain. I was as big as a house, and it was about 30,000 degrees outside. Being that we lived in the San Francisco Bay Area, most houses didn't have air conditioning. Ours included. Because it never gets hot. Never! I was miserable! I was in labor.

I'd been in labor for over 16 hours at this point, and was really hoping the contractions would get close enough so that I could go to the hospital. Actually, I was just hoping I'd die. I had no idea how excruciatingly painful labor could be. No one can really prepare you for that. I had no idea that a simple contraction could suck the life out of me, and make my legs useless. Every contraction brought me to my knees, literally. I would hug the chair and pray, between all the breathing exercises I was taught to do. Brian was charting my progress on an excel spreadsheet. Yes, he's a geek, but we could see that there was progress. I had no idea that my baby wouldn't be born for another 17 hours. God knew that I wouldn't have signed up for all of this if I'd known that back then!

Around midnight my contraction were 5 minutes apart, and the maternity ward said to come on down! I could hardly contain my excitement (I was jumping up and down with joy inside my head, but since I don't externally show much excitement, no one could tell the difference. For the life of me I don't know why I'm that way). We had a full tank of gas in the car, and my bags were packed. Funny how there just isn't much traffic on the freeways at midnight. I think Brian slowly took the back roads because he knows that being in labor in the car is so much fun! I finally understood why there were rails in the maternity ward. They're for portly preggo people like me who can't make it from the drop off point to the front desk in less than 20 minutes. I was put in a room, clad in a lovely hospital gown (white and light blue - my best colors), and hooked up to many, many machines. At one point the nurse said that I wasn't progressing very fast, and that I should go home for a while. Excuse me? It was around 3:00 in morning, still 85 degrees outside, and I did not have air conditioning! I was not going home.

Around 4:00 am, and after much begging and pleading, I got my epidural (thank you, thank you, thank you), after 22 hours of labor. Thank God for the epidural! Have they invented the headache epidural yet? I would really really like that...... Anyway, I digress.... After my epidural, I slept for a few hours. I woke up, a little groggy. Then about six nurses rushed in and flipped me over on to all fours. In my great little hospital gown. It took all six nurses. As if I didn't already feel like a cow. My bare naked white butt up in the air. Stomach hanging down. What a lovely picture! I guess the epidural was raising my blood pressure, and lowering the baby's heartbeat. A friend told me that after childbirth, she could have walked naked in the mall and it wouldn't have bothered her. I didn't understand at the time, but as I was perched on the hospital bed in what has to be my finest position, I finally knew what she was talking about! Seriously, I wanted to be one of those women who almost gave birth in the parking lot. God had other plans! He also has this funny way of making women temporarily forget how little fun the end of pregnancy, and then labor and delivery is, because I voluntarily went through it again! The second time was a lot easier than the first! Now I have two beautiful children. Active and crazy, but two healthy, lovely children.

After many many many many many hours of labor (too many to count, but I did anyway - 34), I finally gave birth to my little baby boy. There were 7 or 8 people in the room (how fun). The NICU team was standing by, but thankfully Brandon didn't need to go there. He was a whimpering little chub, but stopped quickly. He was a little stunned. Poor guy never knew what happened to him! One minute he was happy and warm, and the next he was expelled into the world. We spent a lovely couple of days in the 65 degree air conditioned hospital room before being kicked out and sent to the place we affectionately called the "hot box". September in California is not my favorite month. I think it was 98 degrees the day Brandon was born. The entire next week was in the upper 90's. Bleah! Our little window unit gave a valiant effort, but couldn't keep up with everyone at the house.

But it didn't matter. We had our baby.