Birth Experiences, by Ricky

        I don’t remember being born, but I imagine it was not a pleasant experience being squeezed through a small opening like toothpaste from a tube and suddenly finding oneself in a cold unfriendly environment without mom’s heartbeat to supply normalcy.  I’ve since learned that it wasn’t an enjoyable experience for my mother either.

        I do remember that the births of my four children filled me with happiness.  Considering what my wife went through and what she put me through during “transition”, it jolly well better had made me happy.

        There were some rather humorous events during the birth of our first daughter in 1977.  At about 5AM, I was awakened by a swift poke in the ribs and a voice that said, “My water broke.  Go get a towel.”  I sleepily replied, “What?” after which the first message was repeated.  I then staggered to the bathroom to get a towel, but first answered the call of nature for about 1-minute.  Meanwhile, Deborah was repeatedly yelling at me to hurry up.  Well, this is only funny in hindsight but the excitement of the impending birth quelled her anger.

        By 10PM she still had not dilated sufficiently for birthing nor had she eaten anything since dinner the day before.  Deborah was famished so I went to a McDonald’s and brought her back a Big Mac and a vanilla shake, which she wolfed down reasonably slow considering.  At the midnight nursing shift change, an unsympathetic nurse took over and decided to “move things along” by trying to get Deborah to push, attempting to use the baby’s head to stretch the cervix.  At one point, Deborah was told to tuck her chin down and push hard.  Deb tried once but told the nurse that it made her gag.  The nurse told her it was nonsense and to tuck her chin and push.

        The nurse was standing where the doctor would stand during delivery so she could monitor the cervix stretching.  Deb did as she was told and again told the nurse it was making her gag.  The nurse again insisted that Deborah to tuck her chin down and push hard.  At this point, the nurse learned an important and disgusting lesson as Deborah threw up her recently ingested Big Mac and vanilla shake.  It was a perfectly cylindrical projectile that arched over her chest and stomach and hit the nurse squarely in the chest.  I was mortified on behalf of the nurse and did not laugh until the nurse had angrily stomped out of the room.  After all, she had been warned, apparently she was a “know-it-all” type.

        With some more suffering on Deborah’s part, but no more drama, our first daughter was born 26–hours after Deb’s water broke.  The smile and happiness on her face when she was able to hold our baby made it all worthwhile for the both of us.

        Each of the following children took less and less time to deliver.  The only other unforgettable event was during the birth of our third baby, our son.  He was two weeks overdue and large.  It was decided that Deborah would be “induced” using Pitocin.  The day for birthing arrived.  We had never needed Pitocin before and did not know exactly what to expect.  We waited and waited and waited for the Pitocin drip to take effect.  After about two hours, nothing had begun and it was explained that the Pitocin did not work because Deborah’s body was not ready to give birth.  So, the doctor decided to wait another week.

The next delivery day also arrived and all went well with the preparation until the nurse administered the Pitocin. Again we waited and waited and waited but nothing was happening.  After about an hour, another nurse arrived and discovered that the first nurse had missed the vein and the Pitocin was not getting into Deb’s blood stream.

        So, while the nurses were now preparing everything to insert the drip needle properly, I went to another wing of the hospital for a brief visit with a family friend who was in the hospital due to heart issues.  After about 20-30 minutes, I returned to Deborah only to find out that she was in transition, yelling at me for not being there (I was her Lamaze labor coach) and was about to be wheeled into the delivery room.  Apparently, Pitocin works very fast and I barely had time to change into the delivery room green scrubs.  I arrived just ahead of the doctor.

        One week later, Deb and I were driving two cars to Florida from Montana, as I had just been discharged from the Air Force.  That was the trip that was hell for Deborah.  But that is another story probably best not remembered or told—the modern version of the pioneers crossing the prairie in covered wagons or on foot.

© 27 January 2014 

About the Author 

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.