Episode 23: On Having a Baby and Vaginal Phobias

“Honey, I think I’m in labor,” I said, as I rolled over in bed, and gave him a good shake.

“You’re not in labor,” he replied, and waved his limp arm at me like I was a pesky mosquito honing in on its prey. “What time is it?” he grunted.

“It’s…1:13,” I answered.

“Go back to sleep, honey. I’m sure you’re not in labor. You went to work today.”

“Oh, you’re sure? Well, today is the 2nd and I’m due on the 3rd, it is possible. How the hell would you know, anyway? I just had a pretty strong contraction.”

“It wasn’t a contraction. It was probably just one of those Hixton Bricks…whatever you call ’em. The fake contractions.” His tone became more insistent.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure Erika told me you’ll probably go late with the first baby. She thinks you have at least another week.”

“Oh, really? So I guess since Erika thinks I’m not ready, I suppose that wasn’t a labor pain.”

“I don’t know what it was, Jennifer, but I’m going back to sleep.”

Denial. I hate his denial.

“Fine. I’m gonna hop in the shower,” I huffed.

“Dear, I don’t think you’ll be hopping anywhere,” he said, through a smirk then he rolled over and hid his head under the pillow.

I stuck my tongue out at him and made my way to the bathroom.

When I got out of the shower I decided I should pack my bag. I never understood the need to pack a bag months in advance. I mean, the hospital was 5 minutes away from my house. Even if I did go into labor and end up at the hospital without a “packed bag”, surely someone would run home at some point and get me whatever I needed, right?

“Do you have your bag packed?” one of the fat ladies in the sales department asked. And when the response was, “No,” she looked at me like I was crazy.

My parenting skills were already being judged and I was months away from giving birth! It wasn’t like I was sending my kid off to kindergarten without a new backpack.

* * *

The contractions continued every 15 minutes for the next 5 hours. Periodically I would attempt to convince Robby that I was in labor, with no luck.

He still insisted I was having Braxton Hicks contractions.

Though they weren’t “take your breath away” contractions, I’d read enough over the course of the last 9 months to know that these were labor pains.

The butterflies in my stomach only went away long enough to have a contraction.

Am I ready for this? Is he ready for this? Are we ready for this?

At about 6AM I was finally able to stir Robby from slumber. He immediately got up and went to the kitchen. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

A few minutes later he reappeared in the bedroom with a full pint of beer. “Umm, isn’t it a little early for you to start drinking? Especially since we’re going to have a baby today?”

“Here, drink this. It’ll help you relax.”

“I am relaxed. What makes you think I’m not relaxed?”

“Umm, the fact that you’ve been pacing around the house for the last five hours was my first clue.”

“Oh, well, that’s because I’m bored, not because I need to relax. If you’d gotten your sorry ass up with me, I would’ve had someone to talk to, and less reason to pace.”

“Just drink your beer. I bought it for this very occasion. It’s Sierra Nevada…your favorite.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” I said with a big smile. “I’d almost forgotten why over the past five hours.” I added, under my breath.

I put the glass to my lips and took a deep breath in through my nose, savoring the sweet scent. I took a sip. The fuzzy, foamy bubbles coated my top lip.

My thoughts drifted to countless nights spent in a bar; it was usually when my shift just ended. Sometimes I was with co-workers, or the boyfriend du jour who was there protecting his territory, like a dog with a bone. Other times I was by myself, alone with my thoughts and the ghosts of my past. I was secretly hoping the spirits I planned to imbibe on any given night would drown the spirits of the past that haunted me day-in and day-out. They never did.

“A shot of Jaeger and a Sierra,” I’d ask, lighting a cigarette and casually scanning the scene to see if I knew anyone. I seldom did. I’d take the shot and drink the beer in about the same amount of time it took to smoke the cigarette. “Another round please,” I’d ask, waving my $20 to get the bartender’s attention. “I’d take the second, and final shot of the night, light another cigarette, and drink the beer- slowly this time.

How did I go 9 months without a drink? God, if he lit a cigarette for me right now, would I smoke it?

* * *

“Hey, I haven’t had a contraction for like a half an hour.” I exclaimed.

“Really? Are you sure you were having contractions?”

“Yes, Dear, I’m sure. I’ve been having them every 15 minutes since 1:00 AM.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you just needed to relax.”

“I don’t know either, but I’m going to try to get some sleep. If I am in labor, it could be a very long day. And, the beer did relax me. So, I’m gonna try to sleep and hope I don’t have any more contractions for a while.”

As I drifted off to sleep my thoughts were undefined. I wasn’t nervous anymore. I wasn’t scared, either. I just was.

* * *

“WOAH!” I exclaimed, shot up in bed. “Umm, Robby, I definitely just had a contraction!”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s either that or you stuck a knife in my stomach while I was sleeping.”

“Oh, so, earlier, you weren’t having contractions?”

“No, I think I definitely was, it’s just…it’s just they weren’t as strong as the one I just had.” I replied. “Hey, what time is it?”

“It is…9:30,” he replied.

“Hmm, three hours, that’s not…WOAH…bad!”

“What…what…what…”

I put my finger up, “Just a minute,” I whispered.

“Shouldn’t you be breathing, or something?”

“OK, it’s done. WOW! That fucking hurts! And, yes, asshole, I probably should be breathing, but you refused to go to the classes with me, remember? As a result, Dear, I don’t know how to breathe!”

“We did go to one class, remember…it was a total waste of time.”

“Maybe from your perspective, but not mine…the one who is actually giving birth.”

“You could’ve gone to the classes by yourself.”

“Yeah. I guess I could have,” I replied, kicking him in the shin. “I could’ve been the girl in the class whom everyone assumed was ‘going it alone’. Then I’d have had the pleasure of explaining to them that my baby daddy and I were actually together, he’s just too much of a jerk to join me. No thanks! I’d rather not know how to breathe.”

“I guess it was a little insensitive,” he admitted.

“Yeah, maybe just a tad.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Another contraction came. 4 minutes later another contraction came. 4 minutes later, another one.

“Umm, I think we should go to the hospital,” I said. “They’re about 4 minutes apart.”

“Jennifer, it’s way too early to go to the hospital,” he replied.

“What do you mean, too early? My contractions are 4 minutes apart. Dr. Stef told me to come in when they are 5 minutes apart.”

“Yeah, but you were saying you were having contractions last night. How do I know you’re actually having contractions?”

“You know what, Robby, I’m not sure if you’re trying to be funny or trying to be a dick. In any case, I lost my sense of humor hours ago. So, get your shit together and drive me to the hospital. We’re having a baby today whether you’re ready for it or not.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “Did you pack my bag?”

“No, I didn’t pack your bag. Pack your own damn bag!”

* * *

We left for the hospital at around 10 AM.

I was in the middle of grunting through a contraction when Robby put a call into John. “Hey John, Jennifer’s in labor. Come to the hospital and keep me company.”

I heard him shout, “HOLY SHIT, this is really happening! I’ll be right there. What ghetto hospital do I have to go to again?”

“It’s Aurora South…just off of Mississippi…”

“OK. Why you people can’t have my little princess at a hospital worthy of her presence is beyond me.”

John was under the impression that I was giving birth to a doll he’d be able to dress up in frilly little outfits and put on a shelf when he was bored with it.

“It’s called insurance, John.”

“Insurance, Shimsurance. Bye!”

“John’s on his way.”

“Oh, joy,” I replied. “Just what I need.”

“What? It’ll be fun … He’ll keep us entertained.”

“Yeah, fun for you, but torture for me,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Throughout my pregnancy I fantasized about looking just like the women on TV giving birth. Their hair done, make up on, nary a bead of sweat dripping down their forehead. And, even though I had several hours to fulfill the fantasy, I just couldn’t bring myself to primp. I imagined what I looked like at that moment. Uncombed hair tied up in a messy pony tail, unwashed face with a thin film of oil chomping at the bit to clog my pores, red face only set to get redder as the day wears on. “John’s gonna have a field day with me today. I don’t know if I can stomach it.”

“Jennifer, he’s your brother. He wants to be with you.”

“Yeah, so he can pick on my every flaw.” I responded, lowering my voice. “No thanks.”

“You’re flawless in my eyes, honey, that’s all that matters,” he said, as he leaned over and kissed me on my forehead.

Just then another contraction started. I pressed my forehead into Robby’s lips, closed my eyes and bit my lip.

Once we finally made it into the hospital, Rob and I bellied up to the receptionist. “I think my wife is in labor.”

“OK, is she preregistered?” She asked.

I shook my head no as I fell into another contraction, sinking down in a chair I’d found.

“Why not?” he asked, annoyed.

Because you thought it was a waste of time to take a tour of the hospital with me.

Instead of reminding him of the real reason, I simply shrugged my shoulders, unable to speak as the current contraction came to a close.

* * *

John arrived in my hospital room at around 12 noon with an enormous bouquet of flowers and two even bigger stuffed animals: one yellow alligator and one pink elephant. Not one peep about my hair, my face, the lack of lipstick, my mumu or my bigness uttered from his lips. He was actually, nice.

“Hello, Darling, you hangin’ in there?” he asked, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.

“I suppose. As good as can be expected,” I shrugged.

“How ‘bout you Daddy? You ready?”

“Absolutely!” Robby replied, rubbing his hands together.

“Good, now, where’s the bar?” John teased, peering at me out of the corner of his eyes to see my reaction.

“Oh no, boys, today is all about me,” I said. Belly up to my bed-side and tell me something funny. My contractions have been 4 minutes apart for six hours and my cervix hasn’t budged. I think we’re gonna be here a while.”

I looked at Robby waiting for his snide “I told you so”, but it never came.

Just then my nurse appeared. “OK, Jennifer, since your still at 4 cm, I need you to get up and walk around for a while; try to stir things up a bit.”

“Ohhh-kay.”

Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.

“It’s about noon right now…be back here in an hour so we can check you again. If you haven’t made any progress by then, we may transfer you to your delivery room and hook you up to some pitocin.”

“What’s pitocin?” Robby asked.

“It’s just a drug that we use to help induce labor….to speed things up, so to speak,” she said.

“Will you be getting an epidural?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I’m gonna try to power through,” I said.

“Ohhhh.” She looked a little worried.

“What is it?” Robby asked.

“It’s just that…well…if we need to give her pitocin, sometimes the contractions start to be very…” She was obviously choosing her words very carefully.

“Very…strong and very fast. Most women appreciate having some type of pain management.”

He glanced at me, pleading without saying a word.

“Nope. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” the nurse said. “It’s your choice, of course.”

“Alright, let’s get you moving so we can meet our little girl today.” Robby grabbed me by both hands and hoisted me up. He let out an unconscious, “Hmph!”

I glared at him, but couldn’t stay mad too long because another contraction took my mind off of my bigness.

“Oh, Jennifer, before I forget, I called Mom. She booked her flight and should be arriving tonight at around 11:00. I’ll stay here until it’s time to pick her up. Is that OK?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I grunted.

“What if she gets here before the baby’s born? I thought you didn’t want anyone else in the room, except Robby,” he said.

“Well, that’s like 12 hours away. She’ll certainly be born before Mom gets here at 11, right?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right.”

“Let’s hope so,” Robby added, holding my hand as we walked the hospital halls.

* * *

If we took one lap around the maternity ward, we took 100. I was oblivious to my surroundings aside from several women come in and have their babies in the amount of time we were walking the halls. Every hour we reported back to the nurse and each time she said that the Dr. wanted us to keep walking and try to do this without pitocin.

“Afterall,” she said, “As long as the baby isn’t in any distress, Dr. Stef doesn’t want to give you pitocin since you’re waiving the epidural. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? It’s not too late.”

And every time I told her I didn’t want the epidural. I was managing fine, although, truth be told, I was getting tired and I was still only at 4 cm.

Robby and John entertained themselves by people watching. They made wise cracks about the babies in the nursery, “They look like little lizards,” John would say. “No,” Robby argued. “They look more like plucked chickens.”

They made fun of the new fathers trying to figure out how to change diapers and hold their newborn babies. “Look at that guy,” Robby said. “It looks like he’s holding a bag of shit. Oh, and look at that guy, he better watch out for the head. You know, you’ve got to protect their head…”

“You know, Dear, I’ve never held a new born baby, nor have I ever changed a diaper. You better watch it!” I said. “Karma’s a bitch.”

Then there was the couple who’d just had twins. “Now, they seriously look panic stricken!” John laughed.

“I’d be more than panic stricken if I had twins,” I said.

“Please, honey, twins would have been awesome! Once and done,” added Robby.

“What do you mean, once and done? You think I’m doing this again?”

“Of course…little Grace is gonna need a little bro…”

“OH MY GOD, JENNIFER, what the fuck is that slug on your leg?” John screamed.

Everyone within earshot turned and stared at me. “A little louder, please?” I said, as I inspected my disgustingly swollen legs. They looked as though I’d just been pulled from a swamp, all bloated and purple-ish. On the back of my left knee I spotted a thick pinkish, reddish slime smear that actually did resemble a slug.

“Oh, that’s probably just my mucous plug,” I said, as if they should’ve known. “It’s just another sign that I’m in labor…as if the pain wasn’t enough of a clue.”

“And you wonder why I have a vaginal phobia,” John said to Robby covering his mouth pretending like he was holding back vomit.

* * *

As the day wore on, I began to tire. By five o’clock my contractions were coming every 2 minutes but I still hadn’t dilated past 4 cm. My intense desire to have this baby without an epidural was starting to fade. The nurse transferred us to the delivery room, and what would turn out to be our suite for the duration of the stay.

Though the room had that classic hospital room sterility, I felt a certain warmth envelope me as I scanned the room and took inventory. It was a huge room with a cute padded window seat nestled under three big sunny windows. The sudden urge to curl up with a good book and a glass of wine came over me.

There was a full bathroom stocked with all the toiletries a person would need for days, right down to the biggest maxi pads I’d ever seen.

I wonder what’s in store for me if I’m gonna need those?

There was a slate blue chenille recliner next to the bed. I imagined Rob snoring away and smiled. And of course there was the obligatory TV perched on metal brackets in the corner of the room. The remote was attached to the craftmatic adjustable hospital bed by what looked like an old-school coiled telephone cord.

Within seconds of arrival, Robby had found the remote, taken up post in the recliner and the game was on.

“…it’s Forsberg who ends up with the puck…” cheered the announcer.

“Good timing, honey,” Robby said with a grin, and leaned back the chair. “The puck just dropped!”

John and Robby were glued to the game and I didn’t care. I was suffering. I could no longer focus on anything other than the pain. At one point, the nurse suggested I take a shower. She claimed it may help to relax me.

Another beer would probably be better.

I waddled to the bathroom, stripped down and stepped in. I was happy to see a little bench, so I took a seat just in time to power through another contraction.

For a while I just sat there letting the water stream down onto my swollen belly. I inspected myself with a critical eye, but was happy that I’d made it through the entire pregnancy without a single stretch mark. Then I turned and faced the stream of steaming hot water, put my head back, closed my eyes and let it beat down on my face.

At some point I started to cry. I couldn’t bear it any longer. I was delirious.

What if she gets leukemia?

I am not equipped to handle this kind of emotion or this kind of responsibility. It’s too heavy. Too real.

A wave of cold air crept into the steamy room like a specter.

“Hey, you’ve been in here for a really long time. Is everything OK?” Robby asked as he pulled back the shower curtain.

By this point I was sobbing, uncontrollably. “What if she gets leukemia?!” I blurted between sobs.

“Honey, what are you talking about? She’s gonna be fine,” he said. He turned off the shower. “She’ll be a happy, healthy baby,” he insisted, and picked me up under the arms and wrapped me in a towel.

“I can’t take it anymore,” I sobbed. “The pain…I have to get an epidural.”

“Are you sure? You made me promise I wouldn’t let you,” he asked.

“I’m sure. Can you get the anesthesiologist for me?”

“Yep, I’ll be right back,” he replied without hesitation and dutifully went in search of an epidural.

While he was gone, I managed to get my hospital gown back on and find my way back to the bed. John was hiding in the corner of the room. “Are you OK, Turd?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, I’m not OK. I can’t take it anymore,” I replied.

“I know,” he said, maintaining his kindness. “Were you smoking CRACK when you decided not to get an epidural?” he asked, reverting back to his usual self.

Before I had a chance to respond, Robby appeared with a guy in purple scrubs toting a metal cart with medical supplies and my nurse.

The nurse did a quick check to see if I’d dilated any more before he administered the epidural. John went back into hiding in his corner. “Ah, good, I see the shower helped a little. You’re at 6 now,” she informed me, with a big grin on her face.

“That’s good news honey! We’re getting closer,” Robby added, holding my hand.

I sat in silence as another contraction started. I grunted it out while the Dr. prepared my drugs.

“Why did you wait so long to get an epidural? I hear you’ve been here since 10 this morning,” he asked, handing me a waiver to sign. The nurse gave me a cursory overview, but I was in so much pain I couldn’t be bothered to listen. I could’ve been signing my first-born away, but never would have known. I just closed my eyes and signed by the “X”.

“Well, I know it’s gonna sound weird, but I was having a recurring nightmare where I’m in a dark and damp hallway. For as far as the eye can see, there are women lined up on all fours, completely naked. And this faceless person who is escorting me through the hallway yanks my clothes off and throws me on the floor. I get up and he forces me down, again, on all fours. In the meantime, there is another faceless person stabbing each lady in the back with an enormous needle. Like an epidural assembly line, I guess. It was so creepy I decided to go au naturel.”

“DUDE, that sounds like one of my dreams,” he replied with big eyes and an even bigger grin.

Are you high?

“Well, Jennifer, I’m so glad you changed your mind. Epidural is safe and effective. There is no reason why you should endure this pain. I am here to alleviate the pain so you can relax and enjoy yourself. Now, I’m going to ask just one favor,” he said, starting to get a little serious.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I’m going to administer this between contractions if I can. That means I have 2 minutes to get it done,” he said. “Now, I’m used to a little bit more time, so, if you fall into another contraction in the middle, you have to stay completely still. I know it will be hard to do, but it is imperative that you stay still. Got it?”

“Got it,” I grunted.

At the end of my next contraction he went to work. And, to my delight, he finished just as the next contraction was beginning.

“Voila!” he exclaimed, quite proud of himself. “This should be the last contraction you feel, sweetheart. After this, you’ll be able to sit back and relax…even take a nap.”

The thought of a nap sounded exquisite; I was utterly exhausted. “Thanks,” I eeked out just before he left the room. He turned back for a second, gave a wave and a smile, and disappeared out of sight.

I watched the clock closely. Two minutes were up and I felt no pain. The nurse pointed to the monitor I was hooked up to, “Look, your having a contraction.”

* * *

The epidural took effect around 7 PM, my Mom arrived at 11 PM, and finally at around 2 AM I was dilated to 10 cm and ready to push. It had only been 26 hours since my first contraction.

Robby sat by my side, held my hand and whispered encouraging words in my ear.

My Mom stood on the other side of the bed looking on with pride and a little fear.

Hiding in the furthest corner of the room, John still had the camera around his wrist from earlier.

As the nurses did the final preparation for delivery they pulled out a very large circular light that was probably about 18" in diameter. When they turned it on the room lit up as if the sun had been eclipsed by the moon and it suddenly shone again.

“Oh my God, it’s like a fucking landing strip,” John muttered so he was barely audible. The nurses, who hadn’t even realized there was someone hiding in the shadows, laughed out loud.

“Who’s that hiding in the corner?” one of them asked.

“Oh, that’s my brother,” I replied.

“Why is he hiding over there?”

“Vaginal phobia!” he whisper shouted. He closed his eyes and waved his hand like he was shooing us away.

The nurses erupted with laughter.

Just then, a very tall, very serious looking black woman with a tightly cropped Afro entered the room. She seemed to scowl a little bit at the nurses.

“Hello Jennifer. My name is Dr. Johnson. I believe you’re ready to have a baby.”

“Yep. Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. “Where’s Dr. Stef?”

“Dr. Stef is not on-call tonight, so I’ll be delivering your baby for you.”

“Oh, OK,” I said, with obvious displeasure.

“Now, take a look at the monitor…your contractions are about 1 minute apart and each contraction lasts for about 30 seconds. Now, every time you have a contraction I’m going to ask you to push for the whole contraction, OK?”

“Oh-kay,” I agreed.

Robby whispered in my ear, “Somebody means business.” I gave him a weak smile.

“Now, on the next contraction, let’s get started….ready? PUSH!”

Robby squeezed my hand. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and tried to push. My body was so numb from the epidural I couldn’t actually tell if I was pushing.

“Umm, Jennifer, you’re going to have to do a little better job than that if you want to meet your baby.”

I sighed.

This continued for one full hour. Finally, the Dr. gave up on me trying to push her out, grabbed what looked like a vacuum cleaner, attached it to her head and sucked her out.

One of the nurses asked, “Who’s taking the pictures?” She looked over at John and saw the camera around his wrist. She ran over, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him front and center. “Come on! There’s her head, start shooting!”

I was so exhausted I didn’t have a chance to protest the photo shoot.

He turned the camera on, pointed it at little Grace’s head, closed his eyes, turned his head, whispered a shaky, “vaginal phobia” and started shooting.

Within minutes she was out and on my belly. Tears welled in my eyes. My little blood streaked, slimy lizard was thrust onto my stomach. I held her in my arms for the first time and watched as Robby cut the umbilical cord. I looked at my mom and her eyes welled with tears. I looked at John and there were even tears in his eyes. He was now snapping pictures at will, completely in awe. His vaginal phobia clearly overshadowed by the miracle of child birth. I looked back at Robby again, now with tears streaming down my flushed cheeks, and I noticed there were no tears in his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Why aren’t you?” I asked, incredulous.

“What is that?” Daniel asked, pointing at my stomach, his hand over his mouth.

“What?” I said, looking down. My gown was covered in greenish, blackish tar looking stuff.

A nurse came and grabbed little Gracie from me and said, “Oh, that’s just a little meconium,” as she swaddled her in a pink and blue striped blanket.

“What’s meconium?”

“I think she just shit on me,” I said. “It’s the first time, but it probably won’t be the last.”

***

Well that was fun. Catch up with here: A Love Story, of sorts.