It's my birthday on Monday. I'll be 37 weeks pregnant and finally legal for my homebirth. If my little babe decides to make an appearance on that day, I am so naming him Elvis. Why? Well, Elvis and I have shared the day since I was born. I think I should take my mom out to dinner.
29 years ago, my poor mom wasn't doing so well. She was big with child. A little background for you. My mom is 5 feet tall (if she jumps) and my dad once told me that seeing my mom pregnant, she looked like a snake that had swallowed a rat. Of course I was the last of the 4 kids. My mom was having blood pressure problems and for some reason, I guess, being pregnant with me was taxing her system to the limit.
The doctor wanted to "start" my mom before Christmas, but being the good mom that she is, she decided to wait a couple of weeks after. Remember, she had 3 other kids and a mom out of commission for Christmas isn't really a good thing. So anyway, on the day January 8, 1978, my mom packed her bags and checked into the hospital.
I know it was a Sunday, because specifically my mom has remembered to tell me about the doctor leaving to go to church. But that comes later. So Sunday morning, my mom checks in. Everything is cool, she gets all hooked up, and they start her on the pitocin. By this time, she had already had 2 natural births, preceded by my big brother who she had a saddle block with and assorted other interventions. She has no desire to do that one again.
I don't think she was really worried about the pit. She is one tough cookie, and determined NOT to have an epidural, or whatever they used 29 years ago. So they start her going. Things are going slow. Right? So this is where the Dr. Leaves to go to church, figuring it would be a few hours. My dad also leaves to get his daily cup o joe. So it is just my mom and her cervix. Apparently the cervix was ready.
Mom suddenly gets the urge to push. Nobody is around. She feels it very strongly and starts pushing the "call" button. The nurse comes in expecting something silly, and my mom tells her it is time. The nurse checks and realizes that it is time. She runs down the hall to catch the doctor before he exits the building.
This is where the details get a little fuzzy for me. Apparently every time a contraction hits my mom, my heart rate took a nose dive. Funny thing about being induced, not every time is the baby in a "good" position to be born. So my mom and her super uterus is pushing my head out and they realize that the cord is wrapped around my neck. That is the only possible explanation for the heart rate drop. So they start to get her going. She needs to push me out as fast as she can.
Sidenote: had this happened not 29 years ago, but today, my mom would have been wheeled into the operating room where she would have been knocked out and they would have performed a cesarean.
So the doctors are upping the pit, my mom is pushing me out fast. In the process my heart stops. I'm stuck in and I imagine the dr's are freaking out. My mom already HAD high blood pressure, so you can imagine what the pit is doing to her. She is not doing well. This is where the doctors are trying to make the choice...Baby or mom. Finally my head makes an appearance, and I am sliding out, purple bodied. Oxygen deprived (don't worry, I've already heard all the jokes). Somehow on my exit from the womb, I grabbed the nearest thing, mom's bladder and took it with me. Somewhat.
So the cord is cut and I am whisked off to the nicu where they resuscitate me. Mom is doing better, but not great. She is in for a few hours of being put back together. But she makes it. She is doomed to be on blood pressure medication for the rest of her life. And it all started with me. Well kind of.
And so my friends, that is why I want to take my mom out to dinner on my birthday. She totally deserves it. Besides raising me and all that, she went through THAT birth just to get me here.