Theo's Birth Novella Part II

(Part I here which is also the post directly below this post.)

Back to the action.

I was getting ready to push and everyone was talking about just how fast that baby was going to slip out and I was fake laughing and begging people not to jinx me .... because he/she wasn't OUT YET. So we started pushing. I say we because it feels like a team effort with alllllll those eyes on the prize and someone doing basic counting for you, someone else cheering you on, and at least one person helping hold a leg. It became pretty apparent that this wasn't going to be a Sebastian -push two times and out he slides- situation because the good doctor kept fiddling around with Theo's (not yet even kind of emerged) head with great concentration.

More pushing, counting, cheering. No baby. The doctor was still in her graphic tee and showed no signs of gowning up for any sort of delivery so I was getting slightly discouraged and started profusely apologizing. Was I a bad pusher? They exist!! I like to grill Simon about deliveries (as research for my own) and some birthers just can't figure out how to push efficiently. Had the third baby thrown me into bad pusher camp?? Simon assured me that I wasn't but that maybe I should focus more of my energy on pushing and less of my energy scrunching my face while pushing.

Oh. Okay. 

More pushing sans face scrunching, counting, cheering and apologizing on my part. No baby. More fiddling with the head that was very much sunny side up and would not flip around. I was getting really, really tired because I was pushing really, really hard. I asked for water because I was starting to feel like I might die of Parched Mouth Disease. One year (a loooooong time ago) I ran four marathons and I remember thinking that birthing a baby had to be WAY easier than running a thon. Snort. My current self was cursing my former self at this point because what did she know?! Uh, nothing.

There was never any mention of using forceps, or a vacuum, or going back to 'get sectioned' as they say but I didn't know how much longer I could push with all my popsicle-fueled strength and I was starting to feel about as self-conscious as one does when she has her legs super splayed in front of almost perfect strangers. Simon was being really encouraging and said I was doing great (lie) and I kept asking him if I was getting close but he said he really couldn't see (possible lie, still not sure). It was nearing midnight and there was a lot of nervous laughter and talk that the baby "sure was stubborn" (!!!!!!!!!! I think we passed "stubborn" 87 pushes ago ... I've moved onto "head shaped like a hammer" and am about to throw this into "maybe the baby has antlers?" territory) and that maybe the baby would hold off till December 31st. I couldn't even muster a fake laugh as I had to reserve all of my energy to continue to inefficiently push hammerhead out.

Finally, finally, finally ... one of the nurses went over to the baby warmer and started folding blankets (because that was probably a lot more exciting than the "maybe it was false labor?" show I had going on under the bright lights) and I thought, "this is ridiculous ... that warmer needs to warm, that blanket needs to blan-swaddle/wrap whatever" or something not at all trite and senseless so I pushed as hard as I possibly could and the doctor said to stop. She covered up her street clothes and had me push one more time and out he came face up!! Miracle. Less than 10% of babies that are flipped actually come out sunny side up so I guess you could say I'm a rare form of beast.

I don't want to play favorites but I was never so happy to see a baby emerge from my person. She held him up and I saw that he was most definitely a boy. I was stunned. I had to ask Simon because I didn't remember if they put him on my chest right away but they didn't because his face was black and blue.

It was ugly. I was pretty convinced there was something very wrong with him because he looked terrible. The doctor used some nice sounding phrase for NICU to come (special care unit? who knows) and a nice lady came and looked him over and said he was fine and I started crying the ugly happy kind of tears that I've never ever cried before.

Even though he wasn't our first and I knew there was a baby in the bell all that time ... it was still so overwhelming. Why it took three births to happy cry like a baby? Probably because I'm heartless. I don't know.

The doctor said I wouldn't need any repairs which super shocked me after the pushing decathlon from hell but I wasn't about to beg for stitches.

On a scale of 1 to Terrible Mother how awful would it be to jest, "a face only a mother could love" ??

you knew it was coming.

His right eye was swollen completely shut and the ride side of his tongue was really bruised but he didn't cry 1/100th as much as sweet Julia did when she made her earthly debut.

Everyone that came into my hospital room over the next few days kept saying how handsome he was...

which I'd say was a bit of an embellishment.

But everyone also said it would get better ...

 and it did (just not here, quite yet).

I had pretty easy recoveries with the other two kids but this was by far the easiest. And while I missed the big kids while I was in the hospital I wasn't in any harried hurry to get home and leave my beloved hospital food, tv channels, pain meds, peace, and serenity behind. 

the bliss that was toddler-free living.


And how to come to an unabrupt close?

The end?
Yes.



(J and Bash meeting Theo, in case you forgot)