I Should Have Read the Baby Books: A Mans Personal Experience with Child Birth

by Andrew Williamson

Williamsona@goldmail.etsu.edu

for Advanced Composition, ETSU, December 2011

Khloe Beth Williamson

I Should Have Read the Baby Books: A Mans Personal Experience with Child Birth

By: Andrew Williamson

I will never forget the day my beautiful daughter, Khloe, was born. It was the most beautiful yet horrifying day of my life. There is nothing quite as amazing as witnessing the miracle of child birth, especially when the child is your own. The beauty in seeing life created from a part of oneself is a feeling that I, personally, will never forget; and the pain of my thumb nearly breaking under my wife’s strength, as she pushed and screamed, is another feeling that will never leave my memory. That day I not only learned what it meant to be the proud parent of a beautiful, healthy, little girl, I also observed firsthand why the mothers of the world deserve the utmost respect. This was the scariest, most gruesome experience I have ever had the privilege of experiencing close up, although, it would not have been so intense if I would have read the baby books.

The First Ignored Signs

It was a Tuesday night around 10pm on Oct. 5 2010. My wife, Marcy, and I decided to watch a movie on Netflix before we fell asleep, so we turned on “HOOK”, an adaptation of the Peter Pan story. We lied on the couch relaxing, but shortly into the movie, Marcy started feeling very nauseated. I wasn’t too worried; this had become an everyday challenge for most of the pregnancy and the baby was not due for another five days. Being as uncomfortable as she was, toting around what surely felt like an 8 pound bowling ball in her belly and now sick, Marcy decided to call it an early night. I tucked her in bed and returned to watch Robin Williams, as Peter Pan, fly around and sword fight with pirates.

Another hour or so went by and I started to notice Marcy taking multiple trips from the bathroom to the bedroom. Still I just figured it was one of those long restless nights she tended to go through, so I continued watching my movie. By midnight I was passed out on the couch, and the credits were flowing down the television set like a water fall. Through my dreams I heard Marcy’s voice call out, “Andrew, Hey Andrew. I need you to wake up honey. I think its time.” She sounded so peaceful and calm, it was hard for me to wake up or take her seriously. When my eyes opened and she was standing in front of me with a duffle bag, my body jumped off of the couch before my mind could catch up.

Preparing for the Hospital

If I had read any of those baby books, I’m sure I would have tried to remain calm for my wife’s sake, or at least had a bag already packed. As it was, I was frantically running around our apartment gathering anything I could possibly need at the hospital. Since I had no idea what I was getting into I tried to grab everything. I threw spare socks, pants, shirts, toothbrushes, money, and anything else that would fit into a duffle bag while Marcy calmly packed some of her own clothes in her own little bag. I told her to sit down and packed the rest of her clothes for her. To be sure it was not just a false alarm, Marcy wanted to wait and time her contractions. She decided that a hot shower might help her relax, but even with that, and some comforting from me, her contractions became stronger and more frequent. About every 5 minutes she had a contraction lasting one minute or longer. Finally, she asked me to take her to the hospital, and, as she was still in no hurry, requested I stop by a store for something to drink to help her nausea. Before I could walk Marcy to the door I noticed that I had forgotten something very important in public places, a shirt! I ran back to the closet and grabbed the first one I could find and sprinted for the door. Marcy was calmly waiting for me, breathing deeply with a surprisingly happy look on her face; she was ready to ‘get this thing out of her,” as she often put it. I tossed our bags in the back of the car and helped her into the passenger seat. Before I even really knew I was awake, I was on my way to the hospital to become a daddy for the first time.

“Why is Everybody so Damn Calm!?”

Conveniently for us, the hospital parking lot was practically empty, so I parked right in a front row handicap space. I left everything I had just frantically packed in the car and walked Marcy into the ER. To my surprise the nurse at the front desk seemed to be in no hurry at all. She nonchalantly pulled out some paper work for Marcy to fill out and asked her some questions. Marcy declined the nurse’s wheel chair offer and we walked down the bright hospital hallway to the elevator, all the way up to the Obstetrics floor. While riding up the elevator I turned to Marcy and asked, “why is everybody so damn calm!? You could have a baby any moment!” Marcy laughed and responded, “usually your first labor takes hours, and my water hasn’t even broke yet.” If I had read those books, I might have had a bit of understanding about what was happening at this point in the labor process. As it was, I was lost.

OOPS!

By now it’s around 2 AM. I was still a little sluggish from lack of sleep, so I got comfortable in the delivery room reclining chair while Marcy changed into her gown and waited for the nurses. A short, little, old woman, about 60, walked in and sat down next to Marcy. She had a very kind voice and a personality to match. This gentle demeanor made it very difficult to get mad at her after she started making mistakes. They began after she put the fetal monitor belly band on and tried to start an IV. It took multiple attempts before she was finally successful, leaving Marcy’s wrist aching and bruised. Next, she started recording all of Marcy’s personal information. After 30 minutes worth of questioning she printed off a sticker to place on Marcy’s blood vile; only the sticker didn’t say Marcy. The nurse was charting Marcy’s information under the wrong name. The name she was under was the girl in the next room, who was also in labor. The nurse had to erase everything and start over. All I could do was sit helplessly in my chair and watch, as scared as I will surely ever be, as Marcy’s contractions seemed to get worse with each passing minute.

The Epidural

When Marcy first got checked in, she was dilated 4 cm. with contractions about 4 min apart, lasting for up to 90 seconds. She was obviously in pain, but could not get an epidural until she was dilated 6 cm. It was 7 AM before she had reached 6 cm. When the anesthesiologist came in to give the epidural I realized we had been at the hospital for nearly 5 hours and had yet to see the doctor. As scary as that was my fear was diverted to the huge needle that was about to be inserted into my wife’s spine. This was the biggest needle I had ever seen. Had I skimmed through one of those baby books my shock may have been less severe. After inserting the needle into her spine he ran a catheter into the epidural space where the numbing agent is released. Within minutes after receiving the epidural Marcy went numb from her abdomen down. Her contraction also slowed down meaning the baby wasn’t coming any time soon, but at least she had a break from the pain.

Breaking the “Bag of Waters”

Around 8:00 AM, DR. Nelson finally showed up and decided to break Marcy’s water since it hadn’t broken on its own. To do this he had to insert a long stick with a hook on the end of it into Marcy’s vagina and break a hole in the bag. The Nurses called this “Breaking the Waters.” After the water is forcibly broken, contractions are supposed to get longer and more intense, and boy, did they ever. By 9:00 AM, Marcy was in full blown labor, and once again, the doctor was no where to be found.

The Big Gruesome Finish

Marcy’s feet were on stirrups, and her face was as red as a cherry as she pushed with all her might. The Nurse stayed at the end of the bed coaching Marcy while trying to help the baby out. The nurse would call out, “Push, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, breathe,” then wait a few seconds and repeat the steps again before Marcy could even catch her breath. I thought my wife was going to pass out from the exhaustion. The nurse informed us that the baby was coming out with her shoulders vertical instead of horizontal as they should be. In hopes of remedying the situation, Marcy then had to turn on her left side and push for a few seconds and then her right side and push in an attempt to turn the baby around. I stood at Marcy’s side trying my best to support her through this blessed moment of extreme pain and agony, but every time I would try to say something nothing would come out. I was speechless throughout most of the labor. The Nurse pulled me aside to show me what she was doing and to see my baby’s head start to crown. As amazing as the site was, it was also very disturbing. Blood and slimy birthing fluids were dripping off the top of my baby’s head, as the nurse used her finger to try and pry the little girl out. It was difficult to watch for very long, yet it was even harder to pull away. Ultimately, Marcy needed me by her side; the nurse did not, so back to the head of the bed I went. I still didn’t know where the doctor was, and apparently the nurse was starting to worry as well, because she tried to set us as ease by saying she has, “had to catch babies without the doctor before.” Luckily she didn’t have to catch my child because the doctor showed up about 15 min before the baby was born with his student aid. During the final moments of labor, Marcy had to push with all her might, causing her to pull back on my thumb like a joy stick. I moaned a little as she did for a few pushes, and then readjusted my hand so we wouldn’t have two hospital bills.

Finally, with a strong grunt and a few tears, my baby found her way into the world, and the doctor handed me the scissors to cut the umbilical cord. Marcy breathed a sigh of relief as if all the pain had dissipated. My hands shook rapidly as I tried to aim the scissors for the cord. When I finally snipped it I missed part of the cord and squirted blood on the doctor’s aid’s face. My second cut was more successful and my baby was free from her mother. The nurses showed her to Marcy and me and took her aside to clean her up.

It’s Not Quite Over Yet

Marcy still had to push out the after birth, also known as the placenta. Within just a couple minutes, and a few less strenuous pushes, out pops this dark purple, brainy looking, sack covered in blood. I had seen pictures and videos of this before, but witnessing this first hand is similar to seeing a dead person. It doesn’t look so bad in pictures or on TV, but up close and personal it could change your life, or at least your appetite. It was by far the grossest part of the entire birth.

What Blood Type are you?

Almost immediately after the placenta was delivered, the doctor took off to the next room to check on the other patient that was in labor. She had her baby 10 min after ours, but it took the doctor 20 minutes to get cleaned up and come back to check on Marcy. Our baby never turned over, causing her shoulders to come out vertically. The baby’s shoulders gave Marcy her own appeasiotomy, or incision the doctor may have made between the vagina and the anus, had he been around to help get the baby out more safely and control the tear. For 20 min she lay there bleeding. When he finally made it back and noticed the pool of blood beneath Marcy, he immediately asked her, “What blood type are you?” He could obviously tell how disturbed I was because he asked me to follow the baby to the nursery for her shots while he stitched Marcy’s injuries.

Conclusion

Before this day, Marcy and I had debated, several times, over what we would name our daughter. After seeing all that my wife had gone through to bring our daughter into the world, I told her she deserved to name our child anything she wanted. “Khloe,” it was. So Marcy, Khloe, and I spent our first night as a family in the hospital, and we went home the next morning. The whole experience of child birth was new to me and even though I had seen videos, heard stories, and saw pictures none of them prepared me for this experience. Unfortunately, I took for granted the one thing that could have truly helped me the most, the baby books.

Our Family