Birth Story

Crappiest. Blogger. Ever.

Now that that’s out of the way, let me tell you all the birth story of the future President of the United States, or Nobel Peace Prize Winner, or astronaut, or something else incredible.  Seriously…My Baby is already showing signs of being advanced.

Violet Marie Davis hauled ass into the world at 6:25am on March 18th, 2010. She weighed 7lbs 13oz and was 19 1/2 inches long.  I started going into labor at around 11:15 the previous night, after having left the following post on Facebook:

Dear Baby, This uterus has a very strict check out time of your due date (March 24). If you should attempt to violate this check out time, the owner of said uterus will drive you to school every day and shout inspirational farewells such as, ”Make good choices honey!” out the car window to you until you are in jr. high…. Please consider this a formal warning. Love, Mgmt (Mom)

Clearly threats of humiliation will serve me well in terms of motivating my daughter. 

So, at 11:15 I got up to go to the bathroom, just like I had at 11:03, 10:49, 10:40, and 10:23.  Only this time, instead of peeing, I had some major abdominal pains, and although I was 39 weeks pregnant, and my first logical thought should probably have been, “gee this could be it!” I instead thought, “Holy CRAP I guess there is in fact such a thing as too much Indian food.”  I laid back down, only to have to get up at 11:30 because of the same abdominal pains.  At this point, I had the good sense to call my mom and ask if contractions could feel like an extreme bowel obstruction.  She confirmed as much.  I told her not to get excited, because at that point I wasn’t sure if the pains were the beginning of labor or the result of my poor dietary choices, but to keep her phone at the ready.  I got back into bed and told Dan not to get excited, but that we may be making a midnight run to the hospital.

And then, at about 11:45, I felt The Wetness.  And I was pretty sure this time that The Wetness was not me peeing pants. (Because no, I did not make it through my entire pregnancy without peeing pants, and yes when I did pee pants I did think to myself “IT’S MY WATER!” and was very disappointed to discover that, no it was not my water, but me, regressing back to my days as a toddler when I needed diapers.)  I got up, went to the bathroom, waited, and, sure enough, there was a slow leak that “holding it” did nothing to stop.  I yelled for Dan and let him know that this was IT. And then immediately plugged in the curling iron.  Because HELLO! visitors, and Skype, and pictures that will forever memorialize the arrival of My Baby, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to look like I just rolled out of bed the morning after my bachelorette party. 

At around 12:15, I called the appropriate family members, and then called the midwife to see if I needed to come in yet because I was leaking fluid, or if I could labor at home for awhile.  At this point I need to say a little something about “Birth Plans.”  My “Birth Plan” consisted of an idealized vision of Dan and I going through the early parts of labor together at home, for as long as possible, sharing the excitement of our impending arrival by exchanging loving glances in between contractions that were uncomfortable, but manageable, and 7-8 minutes apart.  I would have time to pack some last minute items, and OF COURSE freshen up a bit before leaving for the hospital.  Then, after about 4-6 hours, we would head off to the hospital where I would endure another 8-10 hours of labor, which would be difficult, but with Dan’s support and the midwife’s coaching I would get through it without needing an epidural.  Then I would push for exactly 1-2 hours, and with a light film of sweat on my brow, Dan and I would welcome our new bundle of joy into the world! Piece of cake right?!

My “Actual Birth” went something like this:


That’s the abbreviated version.

Here’s the longer version:

The midwife said that we needed to come in and she would check and see how bad the fluid was leaking, and let us know if we could go back home or not.

At about 12:30 my contractions went from being 15 minutes apart and 30-45 seconds long to 3 minutes apart and about a minute long.  AND PAINFUL.  Not uncomfortable.  PAINFUL.  And at this point I was still trying to git mah hairz did.  I started yelling at Dan to get a bag packed.  Because, at 39 weeks pregnant, I was more worried about getting the baseboards in my house cleaned than packing for the hospital…which was fine: my Birth Plan included bag packing!  Once he haphazardly threw the few items that I could think of while huffing and leaking and crying and hunching over in pain into a bag, we were out the front door. (Props to the hubs for remembering the car seat!  I was more worried about making sure he remembered snacks…)  At this point I told Dan, “I DON’T CARE WHAT THE MIDWIFE SAYS I’M GETTING AN EPIDURAL.” It was 1:00am. 

We got to the birth center about 15 minutes later, and by this time, I could barely walk I was in so much pain.  And it felt CONSTANT.  Interestingly, I also felt like I had food poisoning, which surprised me because no one told me that I should expect nausea, as many women experience it when they go into labor.  When we got inside the midwife checked to see how far I had progressed, and discovered that I was 4-5cm dilated.  In 2 hours.  WHOA.  I took that opportunity to inform her “SCREW natural child birth, I want DRUGS.”  She, of course, assured me in her most hairy-armpit-soda-can-recycling-earth-mother voice that I COULD DO THIS and that I DIDN’T NEED any drugs to have this baby.  She then told us to GIT TO THE HOSPITAL because this baby is COMIN’ and that she’d meet us there.  We got in the car, and I told my husband to STEP ON IT because I wanted to get there in enough time to get an epidural administered before the midwife could intercept it.

Once we got to the hospital, I literally could not walk, and Dan had to get a wheelchair for me.  He wheeled me inside, in tears and we had to stop at the admissions desk, where the stars had aligned in such a way that the most unfriendly man and woman on the planet just so happened to be sharing the midnight shift. The man was just generally grumpy and unfriendly, the woman acted annoyed that I was crying and in pain while trying to answer the bazillion question she apparently needed answered before they would allow me to have My Baby.  In protest, I proceeded to barf up the LARGE amount of Indian food previously mentioned in this post, all over their work space before being wheeled back to labor and delivery.  So I guess the universe punishes the asshole labor and delivery welcoming committee by making them clean up and then smell regurgitated ethnic food for an entire shift.  Who knew?  

Once I was in the delivery room, I proceeded to explain to every hospital employee that entered my line of sight that I needed an epidural like yesterday, and that I was going to badger them until they gave me one.  After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only about 20 minutes the man of my dreams walked into the room: my husband?  No…the anesthesiologist.  I’ve heard that  lot of women are REALLY scared of epidurals.  Not THIS woman.  Before he could conclude his introduction I was bare assed up and in the air waiting for the spinal.  Which did not hurt AT ALL.  After my lower half went blessedly numb I looked the anesthesiologist in the eye and sincerely offered to make out with him.  In front of my husband.  I guess I didn’t realize how unappealing a make-out session with a 190 lb. sweating, panting pregnant woman who’s breath wreaks of ethnic barf  is.  Oh well, his loss, I’m totally good at making out.

The next three hours were really uneventful.  So much so that Dan and I took the opportunity to sleep through them!  Yep, you read right folks, I slept through most of the rest of labor because of the epidural that I now lovingly refer to as my happy-maker. For the record, when the nurses came in to check, I asked how far apart my contractions were, (because I couldn’t feel them AT ALL) and they said 2-3 minutes apart and 90 to 120 seconds long.  Um…yeah…no freakin’ WAY was I doing THAT while able to feel my lower half.

At about 5:30, the nurse came in and said I was 9 cm and that I could start pushing in probably an hour.  I told Dan that he should probably get up and splash some water on his face because WE’RE ABOUT TO HAVE A BABY!!!! to which he replied, “Gimmie 20 more minutes.”  I suppose I could have played the crazy-wife-in-labor card and ripped him a new one, but EPIDURAL! SUNSHINE, LOLLIPOPS AND RAINBOWS! so I was just going to let him sleep.  However, 20 minutes later, the midwife, who had taken the news of my epidural pretty well I must say, came in and informed me that it that it was TIME and that Dan needed to get up. So poor hubs went into the pushing part a little groggy to say that least.

The next part went really quick, like REALLY quick.  At 6am I started pushing.  It didn’t hurt at all, I wasn’t nervous or scared, it just all seemed like not real.  They told me it could take an hour or two to push her out.  Instead, she came at 6:25am.  Dan’s expression was PRICELESS, I actually almost wish they would have taken HIS picture instead of mine.  When they told us it was a girl I think I almost said, “No it isn’t!” because although all through the pregnancy I didn’t feel like I had a feeling about what I was having, apparently I really thought we were having a boy!  But when they put my precious baby girl on my for the first time…ohhhhh…what can I say?  I don’t have words.  They don’t make words for that experience! Amazing is about as close as it comes.  It was almost like I was born because WOW.  This is what I’m here for now.  SHE is what I’m here for now.

And she’s our life!  And everything is different, but good different like, “How did we ever live without her?” different.  She’s just the best!  And she’s all ours!


About ourlittlenest

Stories about the ordinary lives of my extrodinary family.
This entry was posted in Life and Things and Stuff, My Baby, My Husband is So Awesome, Pregnancy. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Birth Story

  1. Pingback: Matilda James Davis | Ourlittlenest's Weblog

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