Fourteen years ago last night, hubs got a police escort home when a State Trooper saw him basically hyperventilating in the parking lot of the store he worked over-nights. Nothing was wrong with hubs; I had just called him to tell him he had to come home and get me to the hospital, because I was in labor. Got to the hospital, only to find out I wasn’t dilated at all yet. My options: Go home and deal, or stay…. and not be allowed to eat until after the kid decided to put in an appearance. I went home. I had an appointment for 3 pm on the 11th, so I saw no reason to stick around and try to deal with just ice chips.
So, later on, back I went with hubs and Mom in tow. The doctor had barely started the exam, when he informed me I was on my way to L&D…I was 7″ dilated! Did I want a wheelchair? Hell no! I felt good at that point, I could walk.
Then the anesthesiologist came in to discuss my options. Um, NO I don’t want an epidural. I have very low tolerance to most drugs, I wasn’t risking my baby. In the end, I was uncomfortable enough to ask her if I could get HALF a dose of stadol, which she said I could. Within five minutes, I felt like I’d downed a four-pack of wine coolers in as many minutes. FLOATING!
I said I was uncomfortable. That’s all I was. I didn’t actually go into hard labor until 7 or 8 pm. And even then, it was more pressure than pain. I do remember telling them to get the melon out of my butt.
At nine pm, on the 11th of February, 1999, my baby girl was born. Hubs was there, and cut the cord. They had to clean her up before I was allowed to hold her. I was exhausted, but there in my arms was this perfectly formed little girl with wisps of dark curls on her head…which I had rather expected, considering all the heartburn I dealt with in the nine months prior!
The day after her first birthday, my darling daughter had her first plane ride…Albany to Boston, then Boston to London. And she was as good as gold.
These days, I may have to fight with her to get her to clean her room or do her homework. I may wish she was a little less fearful about somethings. But I don’t regret nine months of heartburn, not being able to eat bananas at all, and adjusting my lifestyle to parenthood in the least.