Monday, September 19, 2011

I'm not a mother but I play one on TV.

Today my little boy...who was conceived despite the message on the box that promised 99.9 % effectiveness..who has changed my life entirely...who makes me laugh...who makes me proud...who sometimes makes me want to pull my hair out... who sometimes makes me want to melt in a puddle of love and joy on the floor...is eight years old.

In honor of Coen's eighth birthday, I will share with you a funny story about his birth.

Labor with Coen was mostly unremarkable.  He took about 13 hours to be born.  I labored all night during which time, I walked around, kicked Tad's ass at Yahtzee, listened to Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones and Clem Snide, and breathed through my pain.  I made it through the whole labor drug free with the help of my amazing partner who was by my side sleepless all night long, a big old bouncy birthing ball, and my own determination.  My mom had told me, "As soon as you feel like you can't take any more, it will be time."  So after laboring all night long, at about 8:00 in the morning, the nurses sent our waiting parents home to get some sleep.  "It's going to be hours yet." she had said.  I thought to myself, 'I can't do this for very much longer...' and moved from the bed to the recliner.  Suddenly, I knew it. It was time.  "I am ready to push!" I said. "No...you can't be!" the nurse said.  She checked. Sure enough.  "You'll have to get back in bed", she said, "You were right. It's time!" "Noooo", I pleaded. "Can't I just have the baby in this recliner?" 

Nope.

When it was time to push, Tad held my hand, the doctor was there and the nurse was on my other side.  He had called our parents back to the hospital on their cell phones.  I took in a deep breath and then, just like the ladies in the movies, I pushed and while I pushed, I screamed dramatically.

"What are you doing?" my doctor said.
"Screaming..." I said.
"Don't scream, just push. Save your energy for pushing.  Why are you screaming?"
"That's what they do in the movies!" I said indignantly.

The doctor, the nurse and my husband...they couldn't help themselves. They laughed.

Coen was born after four big pushes. One with a scream, the rest properly. Bob Dylan was playing.  I took that little baby in my arms and said, "Hello Coen. I'm your mommy."

Happy birthday to my eight year old boy.

2 comments:

  1. I'd have let you have him in the recliner. Just fyi. ;)

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  2. dammit, woman, you made me cry!!!!

    ReplyDelete