Friday, February 19, 2010

March Madness

Here it is near the end of February 2010 already. I am reminded of an event from 34 years ago. The birth of my second son.

Having done the "birth thing" once before, I figured I had it all worked out. I had done my "head on the floor and butt in the air" exercises when it looked like he might present breech. I reasoned this worked because, in essence, I turned him upside down to what he was accustomed to. In any case, he turned before he was too big to accomplish the position change.

With son #1, I had to do back-bends whenever he stretched. Son #2 didn't cause such phenomenon so I reasoned he was smaller. All the equipment had stretched before, so this should be an easier birth, right? Well, my theory didn't take into account son #2's head was bigger. So, I had to push the little guy a bit harder.

We had an alternate Lamaze coach since, as a firefighter, Dad worked 24 hour shifts. Working 24 hours on and having the next 24 hours off caused a rotation of scheduled days of the week. The alternate coach was also backup insurance in the event Dad was working on the day of the "coming out" party. As events would have it, Dad was available, so our trusted friend stayed to care for son #1 instead.

When contractions starting coming closer together, in the wee hours of the morning, I woke Dad up to go the hospital. Subsequently, I was aggravated when he proceeded to take a shower and shave at a snail's pace. The previous birth had taken a long time, so he was in no hurry.

Dad's intuition was right and we were in labor most of the day. I didn't hyperventilate this time and was able to relax, focus, breathe, and let the uterus do most of the work. The staff was impressed and asked if four student nurses could observe the birth (drug-less births were still a novelty at the time). I agreed.

At his emergence, son #2 was an instant celebrity. He suddenly had four "Aunties". Dad spent more time at the doctor's end (he was studying to be an EMT with the fire department and took advantage of the on-the-spot experience) instead of at my end in support. And everyone got to hold the baby before I did.

There I was, rejected again. That is, until feeding time.