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Ian's Birth

 Ian James Kevan
 June 16/96
 8lb 61/2 oz


 	After my first two deliveries, I learned (the hard way!) that every
birth is different. Consequently, I went into this one with no expectations,
but a better understanding of the process. My husband and I reviewed the
birth of our last child, and decided (well, he provided feedback but let me
decide) that if I had a similar labour, and epidural would be the best
choice for me.
 
 	This baby, like the others, was "overdue". On the Friday night, I had a
rough time. I had lots of BH contractions, but nothing substantive. They
were just strong enough to keep me up, but irregular enough that I knew
they were not "the real thing." I did spend an hour pacing my kitchen,
the only place I could walk without waking our downstairs houseguests. 5
steps, turn, 5 steps back. For an hour. No results.
 
	By morning, I was exhausted, impatient and tense. When I got up, I
noticed a lot of red-blood staining. I was very worried by this development. With
my other children, I had passed a small amount of pink-tinged mucus, but
nothing like this.

 	The assessment at the hospital was that I was not in labour (I could
have told them that) and that yes, this was just the mucus plug. (Some are
apparently up to 1 cup in volume, I was told). I was not dilated, but the
cervix was very soft. The nurse reminded me that I should come in as soon
as I was in labour, as things could go very quickly. (what a lovely
idea!) We were sent back home, with the admonition to my husband that "She's had
a really hard night, she needs to be taken out for lunch." So he did.
 
	The rest of the day was quiet, with the same annoying pattern of BH: 6
min apart, walk and they are 3 min, stop walking and the contractions stop.
Sigh. By bedtime, even that was gone. I woke at 11:40 when the 19 month old cried. I rolled over and thought
"That felt like a real contraction, but I always get them when I roll
that way." I got up and tucked in my daughter and noticed that the pattern of
contractions was back: 6 min still and 3 min walking. This time however,
they were definately different and did NOT stop when I sat down.

 	I woke my husband and said simply "We're having a baby." As we dressed,
he asked if I wanted to shower as I had said that last time I wished I had
started more refreshed. I thought about it and decided I felt fine. The
contractions were still regular and almost unfeelable when he did
counterpressure on my back. When we got to the hospital, I was so excited I 
pushed the wrong buttons on the elevator (twice!) and went the long way. As we 
wandered down the hall to L&D, some nurses were chatting by the nursery. One said 
"I don't know, she doesn't look like she's in labour to me." Another replied "I don't
know, that elevator took a long time to get here." I was about to tell
her about my button ineptitude when I said "Excuse me", grabbed the handrail
and breathed while my husband pushed. The delivery-room nurse said "Oh 
yeah, she's in labour".

 	During admission, the nurse (she was my favorite of all the mat nurses
at our hospital) did a check of the heartbeat with the hand-held. I was
pleased when she said there was no need for monitoring. The exam showed I 
was 6 cm and the membranes were "really, really bulging" but intact.
After the exam, I sat up (1 contraction) and when the contraction was finished,
when to the washroom. (Why is it that after 3 kids and working with many
medical personnel, I still closed the door to pee?) (2 contractions). As I sat 
down, I had what I call the "train wreck" contraction. It was as intensely painful 
and emotionally shocking as the worst I had had with my last child. My poor husband 
heard me groaning and all he could do was stand outside the door saying "Are you all right?" I
panicked. All I could think of was "if it is this bad at 6cm no way will
I make it. I want an epidural."

 	As I walked back to the bed, I had another contraction (3) and another
(4). As I braced on the bed, I told my husband "Call B (the nurse) I'm in
transition." Just then my water broke with that 4th contraction. He tried
to reach the call bell, but I said "Not now!" (5). He pushed the button
and the nurse, who had left us just a few minutes ago, came back. "Her water
broke and she's in transition."

 	I was actually coherent enough to find the ensuing flurry funny. As the
nurse and the shift head nurse prepped trays, my husband asked if he
should gown. He was told that would come later, if there was time. The nurse
told me "When you feel ready to push, just hop up there on the bed." I
muttered to my husband (6) "I can feel the baby's head moving down." What I meant
was "I can feel the baby pushing on my perinieum" but I couldn't bring
myself to say the words. Instead, after the next contraction (7) I put my
shoulder down and rolled onto the delivery bed and asked my husband to
raise the end. (8) He did so and took a peek. "I can see the baby's
head," he said. "That's fine," the staff was still setting up.
"No, it's crowning." That got everyone's attention. My poor husband was
trying to put counterpressure on my back with one hand and unsure if he
should reach down and help this obviously arriving baby with the other.
With the 9th contraction since admission, the head was born. The nurse
said "Ok, stop pushing for a minute." Who's pushing? Not me! I just said "I'm
not pushing!" echoed by my husband. They realized by my breathing that
this was the case and simply said "This baby's coming!" as he slipped out onto
the bed. It was 1:12 am June 16th. Father's Day.
(A much better gift than the fishing liscence and electric screwdriver I
had already bought him!)
 
 	As the baby lay on the bed, I said "I feel much better now!" A moment
later, they rolled him over and we heard "It's a boy!" After 3 wonderful
daughters, we were surprised and thrilled. As I held him, the doctor
arrived and congratulated us. I thanked the nurses, and the head nurse, a
man we have met socially, simply said "For what? Standing around and
applauding? You did all the work." The other nurse (a midwife by training
and my son the first baby in years she had been able to deliver) said
"That was so simple your 5 year olds could have done it."
 	
	The total labour was 92 minutes and I had only a single stitch. About 40
minutes after he was born, I climbed off the delivery table and went
looking for the nurse to have him weighed and measured. (We startled her
while she was doing clean up. I don't think she expected a brand-new mom
to be wandering around 40 minutes later!)
  
	I was fortunate that my recovery was painless: no bruising or
tenderness at all. I was home within 36 hours and now have to compete with my
daughters for the right to hold my son.