Part one of the story is here.
If you are squeamish, don’t like babies, or plain just don’t care about this birth junkie’s birth stories then turn away now.
At the end of one contraction, I felt like a freight train had just pushed it’s way down and out of my rear end. Sorry to be graphic, but it was crazy. I looked in the water to make sure I hadn’t had an accident and said, “Oh man, I think I need to push.” Immediately getting me out of the tub, the doula made a quick exterior exam and asked Haus if we would like to call the fire department or head to the closest hospital. It was 9:30 p.m.
Haus’ eyes got wide as he blurted, “HOSPITAL!” A few minutes later we all piled into our brand new Toyota Tundra. P.S. This was not how we thought this was going to go. An average labor for a first-time momma is at least twelve hours and I was headed to the hospital squeezing my butt cheeks to keep from pushing baby out on the floor of our new truck after only 3 1/2 hours of contractions. Our doula gave Haus directions and she held my face as I tried to blow softly through the biggest urges to push I’d ever felt in my life. Squeezed in between the back seat, our new car seat, and me, she calmly told Haus after five minutes of driving that he might want to speed. Blowing through stoplights, we arrived at 10 p.m. at a hospital we had never set foot in (Our midwife at Fort Carson was over 45 minutes away and there was no way I was making it there).
Running a wheel chair up into the elevator, we met two labor and delivery nurses who asked me with sugary voices, “Soooo, how far along are you?” At the time I was “Whoooo, whooo, whooo”-ing my way through each contraction to resist the grunt-push feeling and didn’t answer. Haus tersely said 40 weeks before pushing his way through them to a delivery room. I don’t remember it but Haus said as soon as he pulled the wheelchair up to the room, I dropped my bathrobe in the hallway revealing my birthday suit, and walked calmly towards the hospital bed. Plopping myself down, I begged for someone to check me. When someone finally did, the nurse yelled, “SHE’S COMPLETE!” and the room went from one to about twenty scrubbed peeps.
Finally able to push I spent a few minutes reversing my mind as for the past hour all I’d been telling myself was DON’T PUSH. Exasperated I turned to my doula, and said, “But you told me not to push!” I also yelled at an anesthesiologist “I DON’T WANT DRUGS!” even though he was just hooking up an IV, and almost kicked the OB I’d never met that was telling me “Just push my hands out” as I thought, GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF THERE! I was a little out of it.
Finally with a gush of effort, Bubba was born at 10:21 p.m., all nine pounds of him! His hair was dark and curly and his sweet right cheek had a huge dimple as he opened his mouth. I was in love. We’d only been at the hospital for twenty minutes. We didn’t have a camera, we didn’t have a phone, or the video camera. We laughed and cried and embraced our sweet little boy, not really caring about anything else.
Special thanks to Lou Ann, our amazing doula and friend!