How I Became a Mom

Well, today is the 24th of June! Twenty-seven years ago I became a mom for the first time. And twenty-two years ago I became a mom for what I thought was the last time. Happy Birthday Bryan and Jenny!!

Bryan's Birth

It was a really long time ago, so the details will probably be pretty fuzzy by now, but I'll see what I can remember. I had turned 17  a week and a half earlier. Gosh, I was young! My xh had joined the military 6 weeks earlier and had arrived at his technical training base the day before. He was due to come home for a brief visit a few days earlier, but he didn't make it in time for the birth because Bryan arrived six days early.

I was living with my in-laws because my parents were still in the Philippines where my dad was stationed. They came back a month later, but I thought from their letters that they were coming back in June instead of July. Preggo brain, I'm sure...

So anyway, I woke up at 3 in the morning having to go to the bathroom, but nothing was coming out. I thought maybe I had a bladder infection. Yes, one that hurt every 10 minutes or so... duh. I had big plans back then. I was going to go gracefully into labor, take a shower, wash my waist-length hair, and leisurely get to the hospital with plenty of time to spare. Didn't happen that way. (Only five hours of labor later I'd be a mom). After several minutes of running to the bathroom, I woke my in-laws and sheepishly told them that I thought I had a bladder infection. My MIL asked if I was in labor and I said, "I don't think so." Then a contraction hit me and she knew it was time.

She drove me to the hospital with my little bag packed. We lived abot 45 minutes across town from the military base where I would deliver. She drove white-knuckled while I timed the contractions. I'd say, "Here's another one." And then she'd put her foot on the gas pedal some more. It was 4 o'clock in the morning and she had a pregnant girl in labor on board. What were they going to do, give her a ticket? When I announced that the contractions were 5 minutes apart she quietly freaked out.

By the time I got to the hospital my contractions were three minutes apart and I could barely walk. I got into a room and a gown and the nurse checked me out. I was dilated to 2 cm. Okay, I could stay or I could go home, my choice. I decided to stay. They checked me again at 6 and I was dilated to 7 cm and things were moving right along. They broke my water and inserted an internal monitor. I started to throw up and get restless and I got really scared.

By 7:30 I was fully dilated and they said I could give a couple of pushes until they could see a dime of the baby's head. As I fully hit transition, I started crying and begging to go home. I was too young and I was scared to death about pushing another human being out of my body. My MIL calmed me down and reminded me that in our childbirth class, I was really good at the pushing part. Finally she talked me off the ledge and I gave one good push and they said, "Stop pushing!!" They'd seen about a quarter of  his head and he was coming out fast.

In the seventies they didn't have all-in-one labor rooms. So I had to make the trip to the delivery room panting and trying not to push. After they got me all set, I gave a good push or two and my son arrived at 8:06am on Saturday, June 24, 1978. I was a mom and I was delirous. A nurse ran to the wall and pushed a red button and some more nurses ran in and began giving my son oxygen through a mask while someone else massaged his dark purple body. He wasn't breathing.

I was oblivious to the whole thing. I was just in shock over the whole birth thing and didn't notice any of it. My MIL later said that Navy Blue was not a very good color for babies. If I'd known what was going on, I would have been terrified.

Finally the boy started to cry and I looked up at the clock and whispered to myself, "8:12am" which was the time he started to cry. Later when I saw the time of birth on his isolette card, I asked my MIL about that  6 minute delay. Then she told me that he'd had the cord around his neck twice and that he'd not taken his first breath for six minutes, an excruciatingly long time.

After a four-day stay in the hospital (Bryan had jaundice) we went home to start our relationship and I had a nagging worry that he'd been damaged from the difficult birth. But he didn't have any lasting effects of his traumatic birth. The rest, they say, is history.

Comments

[Bryan]

Fascinating story... I never get tired of hearing it and its always strange finding out new details. Who knows what the long term side affects were. Maybe I would be a slightly different person today. Maybe those six minutes affected me brain to make me good with computers and music and bad with women... hehe.
Thanks, love you mom,
~Bryan