Showing posts with label birth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birth. Show all posts
Sunday, August 14, 2011
A Year Ago Today
I was in hospital, agreeing to take drugs to help me sleep through some rough back labor. We were hoping that being able to relax and get some rest would help things progress. We didn't know what we were in for...
Monday, January 31, 2011
Swimming
My sister gave birth to her first baby on Friday, and talking with her about the birth has really flooded me with memories.
As she described her daughter's emergence into the world, I remembered so clearly the crowning and the final pushes. I pushed for nearly three hours. X was sunny-side-up, and his position made this part extremely difficult.
I remember being told to push, push harder. Put your chin to your chest. Pull on the sheet (attached to the bar over the bed) and concentrate!
Now, wait! Don't push. Wait, wait.
Then, his head was free. I needed to push again, and again.
Suddenly his warm, tiny body was swimming out of me in a rush of fluid. All the support nurses sprang into action. I lay back, overwhelmed, wanting to hold my tiny baby, waiting for him to be handed to me.
Pride and grief mingled. I had done it -- delivered my baby -- but I would no longer feel his swimming movements inside. He was in my world. In our world. He was taking his first breaths.
As she described her daughter's emergence into the world, I remembered so clearly the crowning and the final pushes. I pushed for nearly three hours. X was sunny-side-up, and his position made this part extremely difficult.
I remember being told to push, push harder. Put your chin to your chest. Pull on the sheet (attached to the bar over the bed) and concentrate!
Now, wait! Don't push. Wait, wait.
Then, his head was free. I needed to push again, and again.
Suddenly his warm, tiny body was swimming out of me in a rush of fluid. All the support nurses sprang into action. I lay back, overwhelmed, wanting to hold my tiny baby, waiting for him to be handed to me.
Pride and grief mingled. I had done it -- delivered my baby -- but I would no longer feel his swimming movements inside. He was in my world. In our world. He was taking his first breaths.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Blisters
When the excitement of the birth started to die down, and all of the necessary tests had been performed, my husband and I pored over Mr. X, counting his fingers, caressing his earlobes, kissing his round little belly. Then we noticed the small blisters on his hands, just below the thumbs and on one wrist.
"What are these?" we asked the midwife.
She looked. "Oh, those are sucking blisters, he must have been pretty busy in there!"
I knew all at once what those tickling sensations low in my uterus had been. Little fingers, wiggling and working their way into Mr. X's mouth! He was busy inside, to have blistered himself!
The marks have now faded, but he still LOVES his hands and fingers. Some habits die hard, I guess.
"What are these?" we asked the midwife.
She looked. "Oh, those are sucking blisters, he must have been pretty busy in there!"
I knew all at once what those tickling sensations low in my uterus had been. Little fingers, wiggling and working their way into Mr. X's mouth! He was busy inside, to have blistered himself!
The marks have now faded, but he still LOVES his hands and fingers. Some habits die hard, I guess.