Emelyn's Birth Story: Part 3 (Otherwise Known as: This Story Really Does Have an Ending)

Go here for Part 1.
Go here for Part 2.

My contractions were getting stronger and I was getting wearier. I wasn't at all sure when this would ever end or if I would have the strength I needed to bring it to a conclusion.

I was able to breathe through my contractions by keeping in mind the way my 6 yr. old responded to the "Throwing Up Every 10 Minutes" virus we went through recently. She stayed very calm, quiet, and as still as could be until she needed to throw up. Then, she would lift one finger and motion for the bowl, do her business, and lay quietly down again. On the other hand, my 7 yr. old would shriek and thrash and wail, "Mommy, help me! Mommy! Mommy! I don't want to throw up!"

I tried very hard to emulate the former way of handling the pain, and it really did help. I also tried very hard to think of Jesus suffering on the cross so that others might live. In my own small way, I thought that I was laying down my own life and suffering to give this little one life.

The doctor eventually came in and checked me and said that I had a bulging bag of water. WHAT?! Bag of WHAT?! I thought he had broken my water 12 plus hours ago! He offered some explanation that I really didn't pay attention to because once he broke that, Katie bar the door! Now, we were getting somewhere!

This was what I remembered happening every time my water had been broken before. Very painful contractions immediately and a baby in my arms 15 minutes later.

The only difference this time was that there was about 5 minutes of nothing between each contraction which made the process much longer. I was really having to concentrate on not losing control and doing what my 7 yr. old does when she's in pain. Every other birth without drugs, right at the end, I have always screamed, "I CAN'T DO IT!!" and my husband always had to assure me that I could and that it was almost over. This time I was determined not to do that.

At one point, there were 2 nurses in the room chit chatting about their weekend plans. I gave my husband one look, and, it still amazes me after 22 years of marriage that he can read my mind, he told them that I was doing some very difficult work here and I needed it quiet, please.

The pushing stage seemed to last at least 45 minutes because of all the rests between contractions. This is much longer than I have ever pushed before, but with lots of encouragement from my husband and a quiet and calm environment, I was able to finally hold my sweet baby in my arms. For the first time I never screamed that I couldn't do it, either!

My husband, with tears in his eyes, said that he was so proud of me and that I was his hero! When I got to talk to some friends and read the comments, I found out that some of you had been praying for me just at the most difficult time. Thank you! I really do feel like that made such a difference.

And now let's recap what SmockityMommy has learned from this experience. Shall we?

• Pitocin is an evil, wicked drug. It can make you want to scratch the eyes out of a nurse walking past your bed simply because her name is Heather and you strongly suspect that she was at cheerleading camp the last time you were giving birth.
• 12 hours of Pitocin will make you feel like you have just done 13,056 sit ups. In a row. While someone was hitting you in the stomach. With a bowling ball. Repeatedly.
• Pitocin is bad.
• One cannot depend on one birth being like any of the others.
• Finally, and most important of all, it amazes me how our magnificent God cares so much for us that he creates little babies that are fearfully and wonderfully made, with eyes to see every color of the spectrum, ears to hear the world singing His praises, and perfectly formed lips that know exactly what to do to receive nourishment.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!