1 year ago yesterday, I decided to make my very, very pregnant wife a nice dinner: Chicken Parmesan. Not just any chicken parmesan, though; this was a special recipe. One that involved a lot of red pepper flakes, cayenne, and a few other savory ingredients. The sauce was a spicier version of
Scalini's legendary eggplant parmesan recipe, which is rumored to induce labor.
Sure enough, Jessie started having contractions that evening. They were weak, and far apart, so we decided we'd try to sleep that night and call the midwives in the morning. Around 2am, though, Jessie woke me to inform me that she just couldn't sleep, and they seemed close enough together that we should start timing them. By 3:30, we were at the midwifery cottage getting settled in, and were informed that Jessie was not far along and we should try to sleep. I managed about three or four hours, but Jessie was awakened every ten minutes or so by contractions.
What followed was a long, exhausting day. My primary duty was to be by Jessie's side, coaching her through her breathing, helping her do things like go to the bathroom, and getting anything for her she might need like chicken broth, blankets, wet wash cloths, etc. This essentially meant I needed to be alert and attentive at all times, so when the midwives asked if I wanted some coffee, I said yes.
Now, if you guys don't know this about me yet, I don't drink coffee. The closest I ever get is when there is so much sugar and chocolate in it that it can't really be called coffee anymore. I just don't do it. But on this day, 1 year ago, I drank coffee. Eight cups. Black.
I know there are people who say they don't feel the effects of coffee, but trust me, they're there. A minute or so after drinking some I could feel my alertness go up, my energy increase, my heart rate rise, and my breathing accelerate. It was a lot like being thrown into a really cold swimming pool. I basically tried to stay adrenaline charged the whole day, and every time I felt it starting to wear off, I got more. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have been drinking that much liquid, as it meant I had to leave Jessie's side a bit more often than I should. But really, the only alternative would be for the midwives to slap me upside the head every time I got drowsy. I didn't want that.
Suffice it to say I didn't do much that day, so it all sort of blurs together. I'm sure
my wife will have more and better details about some of it than I do. I remember her face as she dealt with her surges. When she handled them well, she remained serene throughout, although you could tell her body was working. Sometimes they got the better of her, and she looked like someone was scraping her back with a yard rake. I pretty much sat there, speaking in a soft, even voice, trying to help her relax and breathe since that's the best way to minimize the discomfort (thinking about discomfort makes you anxious, which makes you tense, which amazingly enough causes more pain when in labor).
Things pretty much went as they had been going for most of the day. At some point Jessie decided that a bath might be soothing, which surprised me since she normally hates bathes. Turns out that being in the water relieved a lot of pressure from her back, so that was good. I kept her in water and chicken broth as much as I could. At some point in the evening, Jessie felt a sudden change in her body and got up, bolted past me to the bathroom and threw up. I was quite concerned until she informed me that it was a pretty normal reaction when the woman "transitions" during birth. Huh.
Not long after, the midwives informed us that she was dilated enough to deliver (and was starting to get urges to push), but her water hadn't broken yet, so they said they could do it or we could wait a bit more. As I recall we decided to wait at first, but then decided to go ahead later on. We got a birthing stool, laid it on the kitchen floor, and the process began.
It all felt very sudden. Jessie was wearing a simple gown, and I was on the floor with her, holding her hand. Thunder began to rumble outside. I was repeating encouraging words and letting her squeeze my hand. And just for the record, my wife is waaaaaaay stronger than you might guess. She had to reposition several times, and was having trouble getting enough air. She was getting a bit afraid that she might burst a blood vessel or something like that. Our midwife was tremendous: calm, collected, and ready for anything. She was and is always even tempered, which we thought was annoying during our checkups; it had become comforting and important during delivery.
Then we heard that the baby was stuck on a pelvic ridge. Of course, deciding to do surgery was out of the question, so the midwife and her assistant had to hold my wife's legs in a position that would enable the midwife to help the baby along. Unfortunately for me, this involved the assistant essentially standing on my knee, which sorta hurt. Of course, I wasn't
about to say anything about my own pain right then.
We need to deliver this baby right now, the midwife said with only slightly more urgency than she had been exhibiting. I didn't think much of it, as I was trying to concentrate on my wife. We had started delivery at ten o'clock at night. At 10:22 (I'm pretty sure of the number, anyway), amid a full fledged Oklahoma thunderstorm, I held little gray Lucy Marcia in my arms. I had to hold onto her for several minutes, because the midwives were quite busy even after that. Lucy was born (as many babies are) with the cord around her neck (twice), so as she was delivered the placenta detached from the uterine wall and Jessie was bleeding. The midwives had to deliver the placenta and stop the bleeding post-haste, which sounds scary, but the midwives proceeded like professionals and neither Jessie nor I felt nervous or unsafe at any point.
At this point, we were all exhausted from 18.5 hours of labor (and the coffee had run out). We stayed our first night at the birthing cottage, and left after a checkup in the morning. We loaded this little person into her own seat for the first time, looking exactly like this:
And today, this beautiful little baby, the vibrant, intelligent, puppy-and-baby-loving, ever-exploring, music fanatic whom I will smile and weep to walk down the aisle one day, looks more like this:
Happy birthday, Lucy.
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