Childbirth.....El Natural' or Drugs

I hope you all enjoyed that pretty little story I told yesterday, about my first born child, Joshua. Because it was all true, all real. But I have to tell you people, there is a much bigger story to be told about my first pregnancy. And I feel, to be 100% honest, I must indeed tell it. The Pregnancy and my beautiful child are one thing, the BIRTH of my beautiful child was another.

Now, let me preface this story by being the first to say...I am ALL for natural childbirth. I am all for you women having your babies in bath tubs, swimming pools, rainbow lights shining, moon beams glowing, heart clouds and angels singing.  But you need to know, you are special women. You are women who have absolutely NO nerve endings whatsoever in your body. I however, am going to require a saddleblock, a hip block, a mind block, a hoochie block, a drink and a toke or two off of a MaryJane cigarette...all in the sake of medicinal purposes..of course. So, you go on with your Hippie, Tree Hugging, Go Green selves'...do it El Natural'. My story is simply going to tell you why I should never try and do that again.

Joshua tried to enter this world during his 6 month of life. There were enough signs, that something was amiss, and we needed to be checked out. My OBGYN told me to go to the hospital and check myself in. They were going to monitor me and my baby.  I checked in late that afternoon, as I would be staying overnight. About 9pm, the fun began. As I lay there, hooked up to the machine, lines of wire streaming from my stomach, looking like a pregnant robot, it started. I was evidently next door to a woman who was not enjoying her birth process to it's ultimate potential. She was calling her Mama, she was calling Jesus, and she was calling her husband/man/SOB that got her pregnant, everything she could think of. As I lay there, I wondered, why in the world would someone not help this poor sister in need? She was obviously in some kind of crazy pain. She was no doubt, on the brink of no return with her pain level. I listened to that poor woman ALL..NIGHT...LONG. At 3am, when my nurse came to check on ME, I begged her to inject my fellow sister with something, anything to shut her mouth. By the time they wheeled her out at 6am, I was praising Jesus, her Mama AND cussing out, the husband/man/SOB that got her pregnant. Dang that man. Could he not get his woman in control??!!!

That was in February. April 18th, 1986, 10pm, I am back at the same hospital. Ready to have my baby. My precious. miracle, magic baby.  They get me in a room, and everything goes real well. At first. The pains are fast, every 2 minutes. They started out that way. But not real strong. At first. By 1am, it is no longer going well. It hurts, and it hurts bad. I ask the nurse for something for pain. She says, well, we can begin the IV Drip. I say, great, could you please get right on that. She does. Now, we are only doing the IV drip, because that's all I wanted. I would get something later, something stronger, when I couldn't take it anymore. Well, guess what. It doesn't work like that. Once you have dilated so much, you don't get anything else. It slows down the birthing process. Now, THAT is the part, I feel pretty sure, someone left out when it was explained to me. Because I know me. I knew me then. I do not like pain. At all. And I don't give a crap about admitting that to you or anyone else. By 4am, I am the poor sister that was next door to me in February. We were exactly the same person at that time in history. Except my language skills were better. I knew a lot more words than she did, and I am a little ashamed to say, Jesus nor my Mama would have liked any of them. And the same in that, I too, cussed the husband/man/SOB that got me pregnant.  That poor man. That man is now my ex husband, so that I say, "that poor man" is not a term I use a lot. But I do have to admit, he took a lot of crap that night. Matter of fact, had I been in his shoes, me and a pillow and my face would have interfaced that night. I asked him for a cup of water. Well, you know, they won't give you any water. He brought me back ice chips. I wish I could say I simply scoffed at him and his ice chips. I did not. I took that dang Dixie Cup full of ice chips and threw it across the room. And screamed at him to GO GET ME SOME WATER. He tried to gently explain to me why. Why I could not have any water. And I screamed again, for him to be a man, and GO OUT THERE AND GET... ME... SOME...WATER! He left out, and didn't come back. For awhile.

A couple of hours later, it was all over. April 19, 1986. My beautiful baby had been born, his Daddy was standing over him, but a good distance from me, and we were smiling.

The next day, my OBGYN came around to my room. Told me what a beautiful baby boy I had. Told me I was doing well, everything looked good. And as he turned to leave, he looked back at me, and stepped in closer to the bed. He patted me on my foot and said, "I heard you put on quite a show last night. Next time, let's talk a little more about some pain blockers that might work better for you." I had the grace to look a little ashamed, and told him quietly that I would. He smiled and walked out. I looked at my ex husband and said, "I don't know what he is talking about. I thought I did great!" He just smiled that, "I could still smash your face with a pillow", smile and said, of course you did honey.

I found out a couple of weeks ago, that me and my dear friend Darla Odom Watson had our precious babies one day apart. The same hospital, most likely, the same hallway.  We never knew. Darla had her precious Tiffany, April 20, 1986. Upon reading this, I imagine Darla will have flashbacks of stories she may have heard about some crazy behind woman who raised heck the whole night before. But Darla and I have been friends for a long, long time. I was a bridesmaid in her first wedding. I know she will never even think, of relating that memory back to me. And if she did, she would never ever tell it.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims