Welcome to Mommy Mondays, where I drone on about Mommydom. This week, in anticipation of the birth of my son, I'm continuing to tell my daughter's delivery story. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 if you missed them.
We had been waiting on the doctor for almost two hours. She was stuck in the horrible L.A. traffic while the nurses taught me to push.
By the time she walked in, everyone thought I was ready to deliver. The practice pushes with the nurses had moved the baby further down into position, but I was already getting tired. So I tried not to panic when my doctor said, "Let's turn your epidural off."
Let's not, I thought. But I didn't say anything. They like you to be able to feel something when you push. I'm all for feeling nothing, myself, but I guess that's not the way it's done.
An epidural takes about an hour and a half to wear off. I pushed for a solid hour and was beginning to feel not just a little, but a lot. A lot. And it made me not want to push. It made me want to curl up in the fetal position and close my eyes.
So they called that-wonderful-angel-named-anesthesiologist to administer a "push dose." A little something to get me through. I could have kissed him. I could have made out with that man at that moment. I think I said as much. I'm sure he gets that a lot.
The Gorilla was by my side for every moment. He hadn't left the room once. He was counting when we pushed, he was encouraging when we took a break. Neither of us could believe it when the doctor said - just like they do on tv - "This is it, just a few more pushes!"
And out she slid. Lavender and gooey and after one deep breath, screaming. My body deflated like a balloon. I laid back on the bed and have never felt such relief. I didn't cry.
The Gorilla crossed the room with her, to cut the cord and take those important first pictures. Meanwhile, after a few brief moments of recovery, I became some sort of stand-up comedian. The euphoria and adrenaline that coursed through my body was unreal. I was cracking jokes with the nurses and laughing hysterically.
I barely remember any of the after-part, but thought it perfectly appropriate to bring up with my doctor - for the first time - her various television appearances. "I just loved your segment on Bill O'Reilly," I said. She laughed and we traded light political philosophy. "I saw the Tyra Banks one, too," I confided. "What, did you google me?!" she asked. Well, sort of. You are delivering my baby, after all.
Over the first few cries of my first baby girl, I was giddily discussing YouTube. And politics. And my waxist. I was a chatterbox. My doctor has probably never seen anything like it. I'll have to ask her.
Eventually they brought my new baby over and put her on my chest. The Gorilla and I stared at her lovely face and marveled at how small she was.
It was over and just beginning at the same time.
check back soon for the final installment of the series - Pigtail's Delivery Story, Part 4: She Smells You. We All Do.
