Did I mention earlier this week that on Wednesday, the 25th, my "baby" turned 50? And that, today, my firstborn son turns 55? As I was journaling this morning, the words that came regarding Brent's birthday were "Wow! How did it get here so fast?"
And, as we are want to do, I remember back to the few weeks/days before his birth. I was 22 at the time; so happy and anxious to be a mother. My doctor had been recommended by a friend and we had, I thought, a pretty good relationship. Brent was due to be born in mid-November and as the days stretched on, at one of my weekly appointments, I asked the doctor what to expect. He looked at me in a rather dumb-founded way and explained that when labor started, my stomach would get as hard as a rock and it would feel like menstral cramps. Nary a word about a mucuous (sp?) plug! On the day before his birth, I noticed this jelly-like substance when I wiped myself. "What's this?" I asked myself. I called my friend and she explained what it was and not to be disturbed by it. Soon thereafter, the "cramps" started and off to the hospital we went. It was a maternity hospital in North Hollywood (we lived in Pacoima at the time). I went through the prep - enema and shaving - and the nurse gave me some sort of a self-applied anesthesia that was strapped to my wrist. The idea being that as the pain started, I would breath in the whatever it was that would temporarily put me under and when I was really under, my hand would automatically fall away and I would come back to full consciousness. I was attending a Religious Science church at the time and the minister had given me an affirmation to say about how there was no pain, etc. As the labor progressed, the pain did, too, to such a degree that when it started, I was too scared to properly administer the anesthetic. I can remember crying out "Won't somebody do something to help me?". I was in a labor room with other women as I recall. I don't remember being wheeled into the delivery room - I don't remember exactly but I think I was given a "saddle block" that numbed me and then told to push and push and push again. And then, he was there! That precious baby boy!
In those days, the hospital stay was 5, yes 5! days - and I shared a room with a woman who was 40 and whose grown daughter came to see her to tell her she herself was pregnant. Interesting times, for sure. I remember getting up to take a shower and not knowing if I was suppoed to take off the sanitary napkin belt or not. I decided not to and later, when the doctor examined me, instructed me to be sure to thoroughly wash myself so the stitches would be cleansed! I was embarassed!
When I compared my birth experience with that of my granddaughter who birthed a son in June, in a room at a hospital in Newport Beach where the large room she occupied was labor, delivery and post-delivery room, all in one. She had a natal monitor; had an epideral (sp?) drip going when her Mom and I arrived to see her; her husband and two best friends were also there in the room until about two, two and a half hours before he was born. And she went home within 48 hours of his birth. My, how times have changed!
And yet the wonder, the awe, the mystery and the miracle of giving birth remains the same. How grateful I am that it is so!
I send these words off to you, dear readers, trusting that your Thanksgiving was just that - full of giving Thanks!
Thank for it all!
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