chapter Eleven
Present
“BREATHE, BABE. THAT’S it. Through your nose, out your mouth. You can do it.”
Yeah, easy for him to say, but I bit my tongue. He was just repeating what the childbirth coach had told him in our classes. I couldn’t help it that the pain was making me pissed off.
But as hard as the earlier phases had been, the last hour had been excruciating. The nurse kept telling me not to push, that I wasn’t ready, so I had to fight the urge, and breathing was the only way. But I was still fighting the pain. They’d supposedly put a painkiller in my IV, but I wasn’t feeling it.
Finally, the f*cking doctor arrived. I wanted to tell him I was sorry I’d disturbed his sleep, but he was trying to be cheerful, something he hadn’t always managed in his office. He examined me, shoving a latex-gloved hand inside to measure the progress of my uncooperative cervix, and he said, “You’re ready.”
I saw one of the nurses wheeling in all kinds of stuff—a table for the baby, complete with a lamp on top. I almost laughed, thinking it looked like one of the heating lamps at a fast food restaurant. Then she wheeled in a stainless steel table full of instruments, much like I was sure they used during the Inquisition. The doctor sat on a rolling stool and turned around to examine his tools of torture while the bedside nurse rattled off instructions. She told me to wait until the next contraction and then to push. She and Ethan would count to ten out loud, and I was to push as hard as I possibly could for the duration of the countdown while pulling my knees to my chest. After three tries, then I could rest until the next contraction.
And then I understood why labor was so painful—so that when it was time to push, it was a relief.
And it was. I heard Ethan and the nurse cheering me on while the doctor, in his calm monotone voice, kept urging me to “Come on.” But after the three pushes I lay my head back on the pillow and tried to gather my strength. Ethan looked at me, and I saw fear in his eyes. I’d never seen him look like that before, and it almost scared me, especially because he was trying—and failing—to put on a brave face. Was something wrong? He brushed my sweat-soaked hair away from my face with his hands, and I wasn’t able to worry anymore as the next contraction overcame me.
This time, I couldn’t even hear them counting as I pushed with muscles I hadn’t known I had. I could feel them bearing down on that little life inside me, trying to force it out into the world. “I see your baby’s head. Come on, now, Valerie. One more good, strong push.” I did as the doctor asked and then Ethan let go of my hand to go stand beside the doctor. “Okay, now, stop pushing.” He started doing something with the baby, but I rested my head on the pillow. I was exhausted. When I opened my eyes, I saw Ethan with scissors in his hand as he cut the baby’s cord.
The doctor looked over at me. “You’re the proud parents of a beautiful baby boy.” The doctor then placed the baby on my chest. He was covered in fluids, and his little face was balling up, ready to express his displeasure at his new surroundings, but I felt a tear form in my eye as I knew this little man was going to be the most important male in my life from this day forward.
That night, after hours of nurses doing this, that, and the other to my baby, having weighed, cleaned, and dressed the child, he was lying in my arms. He and I were making our best attempts at breastfeeding, and I felt like I was failing miserably. My once modest-sized breasts were now huge and trying to block his nostrils. One of the nurses who had been annoying the shit out of me earlier with her bossiness had now come back in the room. She was about to leave as her shift was almost over, but she was checking in. She showed me how I could press on my breast right by the baby’s nose so he could breathe and nurse at the same time.
And did it hurt. She promised me I’d get used to it. I was too tired to argue.
While I held little Christopher in my arms, I looked over at Ethan snoozing in the chair. He’d been on the phone earlier, calling everyone we knew to let them know he was now a proud papa. Tomorrow, we’d have visitors like crazy until it was time to leave. It would be nice to see the people who cared about us and the baby—Brad, Zane, Nick; my parents; my brother and his wife; June and Jason. For now, though, I needed some time alone.
I was tired but happy, and I knew I was beginning the most important job of my life…as the mother of this precious child.