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Aidan's Birth

I really enjoyed reading everyone else's birth stories when I was pregnant. I went from knowing almost nothing about birth to realizing that anything can happen! All of your stories gave me confidence and dispelled any romantic notions I might have held about childbirth. All the stories in the world, however, could not have prepared me for my own child's birth and for the intense, beautiful emotions that accompany such a marvellous event.

My son's birth, like all childbirth, began almost a year earlier. I am a schoolteacher, and my husband and I had planned the perfect pregnancy...get pregnant in late August, be pregnant for the school year, and give birth on the last day of school just in time for summer vacation. Right. A dangerous combination of the Memorial Day holiday, a rainy night in the hottub, and a few glasses of wine, well...let's just say we got a head start on our planned pregnancy. I said goodbye to my darling First graders in early June, stopped at the pharmacy on the way home, bought a pregnancy test, and watched in complete amazement as the little window turned into a plus sign. I was pregnant!

Fast forward to Christmas vacation. My pregnancy had been going perfectly. I felt the baby move just before my 20th week, all my tests were fine, and except for pretty bad headachs in the first trimester, I had been extremely healthy and symptom-free. Just before Christmas, I started having contractions. Since this is my first pregnancy, I really didn't think they were unusual. I thought they were just Braxton Hicks or some other perfectly normal thing that always happened toward the middle of the third trimester. I went to my 7 month doctor's appointment and just happened to mention that I was having these contractions. She examined me and immediately put me on 50% disability with strict instructions to spend three hours a day in bed, and to leave work at noon every day. It seems that the contractions had started my cervix to efface which is not good at 32 weeks. Well, now that my baby is born and healthy, and that the worry and anxiety is all over, I can say that it was such a blessing to leave work at noon every day! I had all afternoon to putter around and get ready for the baby, and I still got to spend time at my job that I love with the students I adore. What a perfect situation!

At that same appointment, my doctor noticed that my baby was breech. She was not overly concerned about it, and said we still had plenty of time for it to turn. I spent time every day doing pelvic tilts and completely expected my baby to turn around. After all, isn't that what they're supposed to do? At about 36 weeks, my baby was still breech and not showing any signs of turning around. So, we scheduled an External Version. She explained that this meant the specialist would push on my abdomen and attempt to turn the baby around. Sounds simple, right? My husband and I merrily arrived at the hospital for our appointment and walked straight into Hell. What noone told me was that an External Version is so painful that people only talk about it in whispers, and that it only works about 60% of the time. After writhing and moaning and trying to bite my husband's hand for close to an hour, I was no closer to having my baby turn around. The doctor finally gave up and told me that there must be a reason why my baby wasn't turning. I had to spend the next two days in bed and I was in total pain. What a nightmare! I would never again go through THAT procedure. Besides, in retrospect, I have to say that I should have listened to that little voice inside of me that said if the baby is breech, it should be breech and why mess with Mother Nature? I guess we just got so wrapped up with our childbirth classes and the whole pregnancy thing, and we just wanted a "normal" labor and delivery. I think I had this vision of a Cinderella delivery, with me waking Dean up in the middle of the night to time contractions, and the 2:00am dash to the hospital, and a dramatic birth, and calling the relatives at dawn to spread the good news, and all that jazz. Now, I realize that ANY birth is a miracle and it doesn't really matter how you arrive at your destination, as long as you have a happy, healthy baby and mother.

So, we had to schedule a cesarean delivery because my baby was in a perfect pike position and none of the doctors at my hospital would even consider attempting to deliver it. I had no desire to be a martyr just for the sake of a "natural" delivery, so I consulted with my doctor, picked a date (February 9, 1998) and settled in for the last two weeks of my pregnancy. There's something very soothing about knowing exactly when your baby will be born. My dad and stepmom took the day off work so they could drive up from San Francisco and be here a few hours after the birth, Dean's family was on alert and ready for the phone call (they live in Michigan), and basically, there were no surprises. Well...almost no surprises...

We went out to a lovely dinner the night before, got home and set the alarm clock for 4:30. We had to be at the hospital at 6:00 and the cesarean was scheduled for 8:00am. I have never been so happy to have an alarm go off at 4:30 in my life! I bounded out of bed (well, as much as I could bound with 40 extra pounds weighing me down), took a shower, put on my makeup (one of the perks of a scheduled cesarean. I looked damn good in my pictures!), and off we went to have our baby. Let me say now that we were absolutely certain from the moment the pregnancy test showed positive that we were having a girl. We were going to name her Eleanor, after my beloved mother who died a few years ago. We didn't even have a boy's name picked out, because we were so sure we were having a girl. We didn't "peek" in any of our sonograms, but we didn't need to, because we were having a girl, right?

So, we got to the hospital, so excited, and they put me in my hospital gown and hooked me up to all those monitors to get a printout of the baby's heartbeat etc. The worst part of the whole day was when the student nurse (just my luck) inserted my catheter. Yow! The i.v. didn't hurt at all, the epidural didn't even hurt at all, but that catheter was quite a surprise. Luckily, after an hour of so I didn't feel it anymore, and then I just sort of forgot about it. The nurse brought in Dean's cute hospital clothes (I loved the little baggies that went over his shoes), and promptly at 8:00, I walked into the operating room, dragging my i.v. tree behind me. The epidural went in without a hitch, and soon, I was laying down covered with warm blankets, making small talk with the anesthesiologist, and wondering when Dean would be allowed in the room. They assured me he would be let in as soon as they had me all prepped. As I had no sensation at all from the chest down, I had no idea what was going on, and since I was flat on my back on the table with a sterile drape right in front of my face, I couldn't see a thing. All of a sudden, someone was playing with my hair and holding my hand. I thought "my, isn't this anesthesiologist nice, he's even playing with my hair" Well, of course, that was my darling husband. They had finally let him into the room. The doctors got to work and they seemed very calm. They were discussing the Olympics, and talking about going to the IHop for breakfast after their shift. I sort of thought "hey, a little focus would be nice, here!" I guess they do this every day. At one point, I asked Dean to look and tell me if I was cut open, and if it was "icky". Well, he assured me that it wasn't at all icky, when in reality, he was thinking "ewww". Anyway, suddenly they stopped chatting, and I felt some tugging and jiggling around my middle, and then the doctor asked Dean if he wanted to watch his baby being born. He slipped his hand out of mine, thereby setting up the reality of the rest of our lives. Now, the baby comes first and I'm second. Ah, well, that's ok with me. I heard the doctor say "you have a boy!" I was shocked! I actually said "are you sure?" I must have seemed like a real idiot. A second later, I heard a baby cry and again, I won their Genius of the Day award by saying "is that my baby?" No, dear, it's the other baby we just delivered in this operating room. Duh. It was the sweetest sound I have ever heard. I didn't realize how worried I was about everything being right with my baby until he actually came out. All my fears just disappeared and I started crying. Not sniffling or anything, just these enormous, hot tears pouring down my face. I've never cried like that in my life. Dean came back to kiss me, then went over to the table where they were doing all those initial things they do to babies, weighing him and suctioning him and whiping him off. He came back to me and he was crying, too. I have never seen my husband cry, not when my mom died or when he smashed his thumb with a hammer. He just isn't a crier. Well, all those emotions came out at once and he was completely overwhelmed with joy and awe and pride. I think men have a harder time accepting the reality of pregnancy because they don't feel it growing inside them, and then suddenly, this whole person is lying on the table, looking for his dad. Oh, the reason why the baby didn't turn around was because the cord was wrapped around his neck three times. There just wasn't enough slack in the cord for him to turn, and it was tightening around his neck every time we tried to turn him. See what I mean about babies being breech for a reason?

They held the baby up to me and I was able to touch him with one hand and kiss him. It wasn't until several hours later when I was out of recovery, that I was able to hold him. From the moment he was born, he has been perfectly healthy and perfectly perfect. He is astoundingly beautiful (what mother wouldn't say that), and he is working on training us into perfect parents. He took to the breast without batting an eye and I have to say that nursing my baby has been the most satisfying and rewarding experience of my life, next to pregnancy and delivery, of course. Aidan is now 10 weeks old and continues to be the light of his mommy and daddy's lives. Sometimes, I just start crying when I look at him, because I love him so much. Dean and I watch him sleep and are amazed that we have been given such a gift. Incidentally, recovering from a cesearan was a snap. I took my pain medicine for a few days and took it easy, but I felt just about 100% again within two weeks. Now, I'm just working on losing the last 10 pounds, and the scar is pretty ugly, but hey, it's worth it.

Thanks for listening. Sorry this is so long, but I could go on and on...it is just such a happy story for me to tell.