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Ian James Relles Palomino

I woke up at dawn on July 27, 1998 knowing that I had to have my baby by tomorrow afternoon. Instead of being happy, I sat in my back yard watching the sun come up, and cried.

I felt that my baby was being torn away from me too soon. Sonograms showed that he only weighed between four and five pounds, and I wanted to let him have more time to grow inside me. He would be almost a month premature; we were inducing because of my high blood pressure.

I was also very afraid that I wouldn't have as much freedom, and time with my daughters. They are 15 and 12 years old, and time with them is more like time with friends than time spent with children. I also was afraid I wouldn't have as much time to be with the baby's dad--as well as loving him very much, he is my best friend, and I enjoy being his "running buddy." At 37 years of age, my life had been nearly perfect, and Ian (we knew the baby would be a boy) was a big surprise.

However, by 4:30 that afternoon--check-in time at labor and delivery--the doctor and my significant other had convinced me that the baby would grow faster in my arms than in my womb. I had the prayer chain and everyone I knew pray that I was doing the right thing, and that the baby would come safely.

The plan was to use a Cervidil suppository throughout that night, and to continue with a Pitocin drip the next morning. I had had two Pitocin-induced labors with my daughters, and spent both crying from pain, and begging the nurse to quit cranking the drip. I felt as if I had been tied to a bed and submitted to 4 hours of torture with both. It was my fear that since I was only 1 cm dilated, that I would have to labor all day just to get to 4 cm. I was petrified of having a C-section, and wanted a peaceful, happy birth instead of a screaming roller coaster ride.

Luckily, when the doctor came to start me on the Cervidil, I had dilated 2 cm. (The power of prayer, I'm sure.) I could have cried with relief--I felt that Ian was trying to tell me he was ready to come. I began praying that I'd be one of the women that Cervidil jump-started into labor so that I could shorten the Pitocin ordeal. I sent the baby's daddy home so that I could concentrate on my contractions.

At 10:30 the nurses gave me something to help me sleep, as I had begun to have some mild contractions. At this point, I called the baby's daddy with a stoned declaration of undying love--that was some great sleeping pill! Luckily again, even though I was able to get some sleep, the drug didn't stop the regular contractions. I rode each one, willing it to carry me toward my baby's birth.

By 5:30 a.m., I got another sign that we were doing the right thing--I began losing my mucous plug. The nurse let me get up, they removed the Cervidil, and I was allowed to take a shower. My twin called (a registered nurse) to tell me that she was on her way, and would arrive by 9:00. I called my boyfriend and told him to hurry up--that I planned to get this show on the road. We started the dreaded Pitocin drip.

I had to tell the nurse that the contractions were pretty pitiful on the drip, and get her to turn it up. I told her that I planned to have my baby around lunch time--I was pretty excited. My boyfriend sat with me and we talked about our trip to Cancun; the contractions didn't get serious at all, or so I thought. Suddenly, I heard something pop, and we looked at each other, wondering if I had done something wrong! The nurse came in, and we were all thrilled to discover that my membranes had ruptured without intervention from the doctor. Again, I could have cried with joy, knowing that this birth was meant to be today. The doctor was thrilled to have a reason to keep me in the hospital--I had told her that I was going home if I wasn't making good progress by 3:00 p.m.

My sister arrived by 9:00, and I again insisted that we'd be done by noon. The nurse laughed at my determination; I was only at 3 cm.

We were rocking and rolling from then on. My boyfriend and twin entertained me by keeping up a conversation, and I only had to tell them to be quiet for about 40-50 seconds during each contraction. When I started getting uncomfortable, I was given Nubain, and that helped me get to 4 cm dilation without losing control. I felt more in control because the nurses listened to me, and didn't keep cranking the Pitocin. Even though my contractions weren't registering on the monitor, they listened to me when I insisted that the contractions were very strong, and regular.

Finally, I started feeling that I couldn't stay in control much longer. The atmosphere was so peaceful and happy that I really didn't want to ruin it (and scare my boyfriend) by giving into the pain. I requested, and was allowed, an epidural given by my new best friend, an excellent anaesthesiologist named Leanne. It was now 11:00 a.m., and I was told I was at 4 cm, but effacing at an amazing speed. I had wonderful, blessed relief from the contractions, but could tell when I was having one.

Five minutes later, the nurse tried to insert an internal monitor, and I was at 5 cm. I told her that dilation would be lightening fast now--to be ready. My boyfriend came to the head of the bed, and I grabbed his hand to get ready. I started trying to tell everyone something was happening...I felt a full sensation, and a sliding inside of me. At ll:15 or ll:20 I yelled that the baby was crowning. I never felt an urge to push, he just moved into position. The nurse was shocked, even though I kept saying, "but I told you it would be fast!" There was still a wonderful air of joy, and excitement. No screaming, no swearing, and no crying. Only happiness.

The doctor ran in in time to catch the baby at 11:36. We all cheered, and Ian's daddy cut the cord. It was all so fast that the doctor had to pull on scrubs at the foot of my bed! I kept laughing and telling my sister to stand at my feet because I was afraid I'd let the baby slip out and onto the floor. I had no tears or stitches, and my tiny baby got an Apgar score of 9/9. He weighed four pounds and twelve ounces, but I no longer had any doubt that he was meant to come. God is so great; I kept thinking he must really even know when a sparrow falls.

Now I tell everyone not to be afraid to use the pain management available to us. I really don't think we're meant to give birth in a crazed-with-pain haze. Lamaze and the other childbirth classes are great, but you feel like you flunked the course if you ask for medication. I felt it just helped me give birth in peace, and share a happy time with my twin and husband-to-be. Now, I find myself dreaming about giving Ian a sister nearer his age...must be hormones!

Kathy Hessman, Ian James Relles Palomino's mom.