BIRTH, One Man’s Perspective
Every year around this time,
I share the story of our firstborn’s birth. Each of our children has a special story, but my son, Curtis, just turned 40 on February 13th, so it is his turn to be remembered in a blog.
40 YEARS AGO, my wife and I were anxious parents-to-be expecting our first. We had already made a few typical false alarm trips to the hospital (aka Braxton Hicks practice contractions),
But on February 13th, 1986, it was the real deal, and life would NEVER be the same.
READY SET GO...
At 12:30 a.m. on February 13th, 1986, my wife and I had just headed off to bed for a long winter’s nap. At about midnight, I arrived home from my evening shift and was off to bed with my wife, Mary, who was 9 months pregnant. Before I could even fade into sleep, Mary exclaims, “My water broke, or I just peed the bed.”
So off to the races we headed for the birth of CHILD #1.
BUT FIRST...
We had to stop for gas as I had not planned on this midnight run to the hospital all while Mary’s contractions were kicking into gear.
NOTE TO SELF: Keep the gas tank full when babies are near the due date.
So we arrive at the hospital (I ran a few red lights just for added high drama), and the nurses get us settled into our room and notify our doctor.
Mary is then hooked up to all sorts of monitors, including this cool baby monitor that measures the strength of her contractions.
COOL.. something for me to watch over the next few hours.
OVER THE NEXT HOURS... The contractions come and go…
as do the visits by the nurses and doctors. Early on, Mary receives the drugs of choice to calm the pains. I remember after several of the contractions where Mary seemed to be hurting especially bad I said to her... “That one was not really that bad it was only a 4 on the monitor.” Shortly thereafter, I learned the monitor strap had come loose and was no longer measuring accurately.
NOTE TO SELF: Do not think 'out loud'.
BIRTH CLASS IN ACTION:
In previous months leading up to this momentous day, Mary and I had attended birthing classes, so I knew to hold her hand and to coach her breathing. Funny thing is, we’d both been breathing just fine our entire lives up to this point. Anyways, while moving towards delivering this baby, we were told we needed ‘breathing classes’ to help mom relax her breathing… but the problem was that Mary preferred to hold the nurse's hands because they were cooler to the touch, and at one point during my breathing Mary said directly to me… “Quit breathing in my face.”
NOTE TO SELF: Quit breathing??
MORE DRUGS... PLEASE?
So the hours move along, and it is early morning around 4:30 when Mary pleads with her doctor for more drugs, but the doc says nope.. too late.. no more drugs for you. At least I was smart enough at this point not to repeat the doctor’s words. I just sat quietly, supportive.
NOTE TO SELF: Plead Mary’s case for drugs as a sign of being supportive, and ask for some for me as my back is killing me.
THINGS ARE GETTING INTENSE:
Around 8 a.m., the pains are severe, but the process seems to have stalled a bit. So while Mary is frustrated and exhausted in her ‘painful’ baby holding pattern, the morning breakfast cart rolls around. They peek in and ask sheepishly...
“Breakfast, anyone?”
There is a momentary awkward silence... until I finally say, …
“Yes, I think I could eat something.” My reasoning is I need to keep up my strength if Mary needs me to help her with her breathing.
NOTE TO SELF: Next time, shout, “Can’t you see my wife is in labor?!”, and then meet the cart in the hallway for a secret snack under the guise of chewing them out.
So the process continues as I eat breakfast, and between bites I call to my wife with my mouth full: “push,” and “remember your breathing.”
FOR UNTO US, A CHILD IS BORN!
Finally, around 10:00 a.m., a child is born, and they shall call his name, Curtis Walter Larson.
He is healthy, a bit cone-headed, but a keeper. After the usual initial checks, and I get to cut the cord from 'mothership' Mary, we head back to our private room where the three of us, mom, dad, and new baby Curt, all lie in the same bed.
And around 12:30 that afternoon, baby Curt is asleep; I am asleep (and snoring), while Mary lies wide awake coming down still from the adrenaline rush of her life.
NOTE TO SELF: I don't know what Mary thinks, BUT… this giving birth thingy is exhausting!
So there you have it, BIRTH FROM ONE MAN’S PERSPECTIVE. Now, 40 years later, we have a son, Curtis Walter Larson, who has given us both our share of joy and exasperation… edge goes to JOY.
NOTE TO SELF: God is good, Mary is wonderful, and Curtis is a son to be proud of.
Jeff
