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Parenting
The Birth of a Princess
Twenty days or twenty hours I can’t remember,
but whatever it was, it was hell (or at least Purgatory). Labor started at
around 8pm Friday night and we were excited as two schoolgirls. We decided
to play it cool and not rush off to the hospital until Denise felt like the
contractions were really kicking in. Tricky business that, you don’t
want to go to the hospital too early for fear of public ridicule by the midwives
only to be sent back home in shame, and if you go to late...you better just
hope the front seats in your car recline.
At 2:30am it seemed like a good time to go as Denise had lost her schoolgirl
appeal and was beginning to recite what I can only describe as some arcane
demonic passages. I was very pleased at my calm demeanor as I drove to the
hospital without violating a single law with the Exorcist in the back seat
(not at all like you see in the movies). Fortunately the midwives accepted
us and allocated a ‘delivery suite’ with a view of nothing. The
delivery suites with awesome views overlooking the lake couldn’t be
used due to some mysterious water leak. A cursory inspection by ‘me’
later in the morning found them to be quite operational without so much as
a bucket or a drop of water on the floor. I made a mental note that the midwives
were not to be trusted.
8am and the pain isn’t messing around anymore. Denise is way beyond
demonic passages and is now speaking in tongues. Fortunately at that time
our Doctor has finally moseyed her way into the hospital after finishing
her leisurely morning routine. One look at Denise and she quickly orders
up an epideral and every drug she can think of. Twenty minutes later and
Denise is suddenly quite chatty again. She’s yabbering with the shifty
midwives and once again laughing at my jokes.
9am and things are progressing s-l-o-w-l-y. Denise is only dilated 3 cm and
has a ways to go. The doctor is long gone. And get this, I’m told to
GO HOME! (We lived just down the road.) I mean I pretty much figured I was
a useless cog in an otherwise very efficient process, but they could have
at least pretended to need me. But then visions of golf sprang into my head
and I thought that going home might just be the best thing for everyone involved.
Alas, no such luck, they were going to pretend to need me after all. I only
had time to make a few panicked phone calls, choke down a bowl of toasties,
and then fly back to the hospital in a cold sweat fearing that I missed the
delivery.
2pm. Denise has been fully dilated for ages now and we’re waiting for
our Doctor to return from her Christmas shopping before Denise can push this
baby out. The Doctor finally arrives and guess what, she tells Denise to
start pushing! So by God push she did. She pushed so hard I thought her eyes
were in danger of bugging out. If she used that same force in weight lifting,
I can state with confidence she could bench 400 lbs. minimum. During all
the pushing the epideral began to wear off and Denise was charting new territory
in the realm of pain. The Doctors didn’t want to top off her epideral
because she could push more effectively without the aid of any sissy medication.
During all this, my critical role was to rub this certain nagging spot on
Denise’s back. I also found that the less I spoke the better things
went. My few attempts at hob-nobbing with the medical staff were met with
disdain. Comments such as ‘Gee her thingie is really bulging out’
got me nowhere.
It’s 4pm and I’m convinced that this baby will never come out and
Denise may possibly remain like this forever. After two hours of pain and
pushing she was completely and totally exhausted. It’s like running
a marathon and then having to run another marathon back to the start because
you forgot your keys. Medical science came to the rescue in the form of a
Hoover vacuum cleaner but they call it a Ventoose instead of a Hoover so
they can sound all fancy-pants like and make the poor distraught husbands
feel even more confused. This Ventoose thing has a suction cup that they
stick onto the baby’s head and then play tug of war until hopefully
the doctor wins and the baby comes out. Fortunately for us the Doctor won
and Emma Victoria Sassaman was born unto us at 4:32pm on Saturday December
5th.
Now for the drama, it seems that our little baby Emma came down with congestive
pneumonia during her ordeal. We could tell right after she was born that
she wasn’t breathing properly. Denise and I went into an emotional
free-fall, but the doctors were reassuring and said she would be fine. They
put her into an oxygen-enriched incubator and decided to transfer mom and
baby to National Women’s Hospital, which has a state of the art newborn
intensive care facility. I was a basket case for two days, but fortunately
Emma improved rapidly and in no time at all was at Mom’s bedside learning
how to breast-feed. Emma was put on a five-day course of anti-biotics and
fully recovered.
Oh, and lest I forget to mention the other star of the show, Denise walked
around like a rodeo star for a few days after the delivery, but recovered
nicely.
Copyright 1999 Douglas S. Sassaman
About The Author: Douglas Sassaman is a freelance writer, aspiring
novelist, and self-described humorist (who some think should be self-committed).
He writes the humor column, 'Life in the Cosmic-Burp' on the web at
http://CosmicBurp.com.
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