Papillon's Birth Story: Part 3: The Delivery

By the time Mon Amour returned to the room things were obviously moving rapidly. The nurse checked my progress again (couldn't have been more than 30 minutes since the last check), and I was 8cms. That would explain why things were so much worse, we had entered the transition phase, and I had started to wonder if I could really do this. But at 8cms, its a little late to look back.

The speed of delivery was clearly a little too much for Papillon's taste, because her heart rate suddenly dropped.Thus began the most unpleasant process of constantly changing positions in order to try and get her heart rate back up. The doctor was back in the room promptly and kept telling me to move. I told him I couldn't (contractions were right on top of each other), he told me it wasn't for me, I needed to move for Papillon's sake. That got me to move.

They assured me they would move the blankets with me so that I would still be covered up; how nice of them to be concerned with modesty at a time like this. If there had been time between contractions I would have probably yelled at them not to even think about covering me up, I was burning up with hot flashes. Fortunately, Mon Amour could tell what I needed and kept bringing me cool wash clothes for my neck. I didn't know that a cool wash cloth could feel so good!

At one point nurse asked me if I was feeling anything different. Right on cue, a contraction hit and along with it the urge to push. And by urge, I mean uncontrollable instinctual pushing. With that, things sped up even more. After maybe 2 or 3 practice pushes with me not working at them at all, the doctor said very firmly "Ma'am, you need to get this baby out now. Push with everything that you have and don't wait for the contractions".

About 4 ridiculously intense pushes later I screamed that I couldn't do it any more. Mon Amour looked over at me at said "You don't have to, she's here." My first thought was "nice try, but I am so beyond being encouraged by placating sentiments" thinking he meant that she was starting to crown and would be here soon. But no, I realized I half second later he meant she was actually here.

8:21pm, all 9lbs 3 oz of her was here.
And she was crying.
She got a 9 on her apgar, despite the low heart rate scare.

They whisked her away to get cleaned up so that they could focus on me. In the words of the doctor, "She is a big baby and made a grand entrance, so this is going to take a while".

I don't remember a whole lot about the next 40 minutes, for which I am very grateful. I do remember certain things - the doctor saying "I can't even see where that tear ends" and "I am going to need a bigger syringe, the biggest you've got". I also remember the nurse giving me a shot in my leg without telling me what it was - it was remarkably painful and I kicked her without meaning to. More of the medicine got on her than in me. The next day that nurse visited and apologized for the shot; she said she got the same shot after giving birth to her child, and she remembers the pain of that shot more than the pain of delivery. How nice of her to warn me about that...

They gave me a pain killer that they said might make the room spin...they were right. I remember Mon Amour staying with me, and telling me what Papillon was doing (she was hanging out in the warming bed totally un-phased by the chaos.) And I remember just wanting everyone to leave. There were about 8 nurses in the room (it was shift change time), and all I wanted was to be alone with my family.

About 40 minutes later they did leave, most of them at least. And I got to hold Papillon for the first time. It was then that a nurse asked me if I would do it again (meaning without drugs and what not). Less than an hour after birth it seemed like a crazy question.
But the answer would be yes. I would definitely do it again.

They say that you forget the pain as soon as you hold your baby. Its mostly true, in that moment I don't remember feeling any pain, but the memory of it was still there. Now, a week later, the memory of it is very much faded. I remember it hurt, a lot, and all over. I meant it when I said I couldn't do it any more. But now, I don't really remember the pain itself. Its like a dream that you wake up from, and you know it was a bad dream, a terrifying nightmare in fact, but you can't recall any of the specifics, and so with time, the fear fades. And you think to yourself, that wasn't so bad.