Life is good. Donny’s job in the family lighting business allows me to stay home with the kids. We frolic and play. We have fun.
A few years pass, both kids are in school. I go for my annual ob-gyn check up which also involves getting a new IUD insert. I am on the yearly plan by this time, no more shield. Almost as an aside I ask what will happen if I get pregnant with the insert in place. Termination I am told. No thank you I reply. I don’t want it under those conditions.
That left raincoats (Donny’s term for condoms) and careful counting as the only other options for us. We are careful but the very moment I feel overwhelmingly sick on a ride at Kings Dominion I know we are pregnant. And I am right. Termination is exactly how we landed in this new world and so those thoughts brought on by crazy pregnancy hormones are quickly dismissed.
Okay then this one is on my terms, I decide. The first two were on the doctors’ terms. I was always interested in natural child birth. I mean hadn’t women been doing this since forever? But I was quickly told it was just not a good idea with so much comfort at my disposal. I did not push back. Two epidural babies later and a bonus in the oven I am ready to take the reins.
Dr Knight is the youngest of the doctors in the group I elect to be and remain with because their reputation is that good. Plus Dr Knight and I have a history as he attended Donald’s birth. He agrees to my conditions. No drugs, no IV, all natural.
Such an affable child, our baby number three. He cooperatively scratches a tiny hole in his water sac allowing us plenty of time to bring in child care, get to the hospital (a different one but still on the opposite side of town) as a tiny little stream of water slowly empties the amnio fluids. Eventually we are at the hospital, parked and walking the strange empty hallways trying to find exactly where maternity is. Contractions are starting. The trickle down period is over.
We finally find our place and I settle into a labor room. The nurse tries to prep me for an IV. I tell her no. She looks confused. The doctor comes in and shrugs his shoulders. “Can we put a contraction monitor on you?” I agree. “How about a fetal monitor?” I feel like I might be losing control but agree. We are hooked up to the monitors but that’s it. Labor is getting serious.
“Oh look,” says Donny. “A contraction is starting.” He is fascinated. If I felt better I would have smacked him. I know a contraction is coming well before the stupid machine does.
The doctor wanders off, then comes back in, “How are you doing? Ready for your epidural?” I want to sock him too. I only glare.
I am birthing a baby. How do you think I am doing? I am working hard here. Very hard. I remind myself. Remember. How. Hard. This. Is. Do. Not. Forget. How. Really. Hard. This. Is. Really. Really. Hard.
Finally the nurse announces that I am ready for delivery. “Don’t push.”
What? Don’t push? That’s all I want to do. That’s what I’ve been working toward. Now I’ve got to hold the line. Don’t. Forget. How. Hard. This. Is. And then he is here. We have done it. Middlemost child and I. We are a natural team.
Stephen Dyott Ball April 29, 1979
