Home » Unmedicated Birth: I Wouldn’t Recommend It – Part I

Unmedicated Birth: I Wouldn’t Recommend It – Part I

This is the first installment of the story of Teddy’s arrival.  It’s probably going to be long.  And possibly gross.  So if you’re not into this sort of thing, you might want to check back another day. . .

So if you recall, I was one week overdue.  Not completely miserable, but ready to evict the bouncing bundle of ahem joy.

The last time I saw the doctor, he suggested we wait one week past due date and he scheduled an induction for exactly one week.

The plan was to put Mac to bed and have Chris’ brother sneak in to watch Mac while we snuck out to the hospital to start the induction.

It was a Thursday morning.  I awoke feeling more bitter than usual and I began immediately bitching about not wanting to have the induction that evening.

“If we just wait another day or so I KNOW the baby will arrive on his own.” I moaned at Chris.

Chris took a hard-line reminding me that if something were to go wrong, it could go very wrong quickly and I should just stick to the plan.

This irked me.  So I swilled coffee and stewed for the better part of 3 hours while I waited for the Doctor’s office to open.

What to do?  What to do?

“Maybe the Doctor will see me and tell me I’m fine to wait until Monday?” I said to Chris hopefully.

But I knew the truth was I could barely get an appointment in that practice when I NEEDED one.  There was probably very little chance I’d even get a return call until much later in the day.

“You can’t just waltz into the hospital at 10 or 11PM and tell them you’re not staying you know,” Chris admonished me sternly.  “It’s not cool.”

“They can’t keep you there against your will,” I shot back at him.

But as the morning drug on, I knew he was right.  Arrangements had surely been made.  There was a room waiting for me.  Showing up there and then throwing a fit to leave was really a bitch-move.  Not to mention we had arranged for Chris’ brother to help us with Mac.

But my last induction was wretched.  So. Wretched.

Tabling the induction debate for a while, we decided we would take a hike at North Point State Park with Mac that morning.    I packed us up and we had a great walk.  My attitude was starting to improve. . .That was my first mistake.

By the time we returned home, I had pretty much accepted the fact that I was likely going to be stuck in a hospital bed for heaven only knew how long being pumped full of fluid and lord only knows what else until I was no longer pregnant.

My sunny side was up.  Way up.  (Stupid nature walk making me all happy.)  Maybe it won’t be so bad.  You can get to the hospital and read a magazine or three.  No one will be demanding food, or drinks, or Legos.  There’s no laundry.  It will be quiet.  You’ll get to control the TV remote.  Hell Deni, it’s practically a gawd damned vacation.

I started making lunch and cleaning and getting Mac ready for his nap.

“Deni, slow down,” Chris kept saying.  “I want you to rest.  You know you’re not going to sleep again for days.”

He was right but I’m nothing if not delusional and stubborn (Those were mistakes 2 and 3).  So I ignored him. . .In the most pleasant of ways possible. . .of course.

I was in the habit of sitting down from about 3 to 3:30 and listening to a quick guided mediation just to get off my feet and relax a little.

So I disregarded the fact that I still had to make dinner, pack my bags, and shower, I laid down on the sofa and put on my headphones.  Chris went upstairs to rest too.

And as I was lying there I though perhaps I felt some strange tweaking in the vicinity of the baby bump.

Wishful thinking, Deni.  You’re screwed and you know it.  Focus on this chick’s relaxing voice.  You’re going on “vacation” tonight.  Just relax.

At 3:30 I struggled to get my whale sized ass upright and started making a list of everything that still needed accomplished.  It was at that moment that I realized I promised Mac Play Doh.  I had to make Play Doh!  Jezuschrist.

I decided the Play Doh should be the first order of business so Mac didn’t see me making it and want it immediately.

I started slopping around with boiling water and salt and food coloring.  Yellow.  Green.  Blue.

And as I was in the middle of violently kneeding blue I felt something um wet.  I glanced down at my sneakers.  It looked all good.  My water had definitely NOT broken.

Kneed.  Kneed.  More flour.

What was that?  What is that?  Was that a PAIN?

I waddled to the basement bathroom with my Smurf hands to assess the situation.

Blood.  That was blood.

Oh shit.  Blood.

Remain calm.

BLOOD!!!!!!!  BLOOD!!!!!

Speaking of red stuff. . .I still had to make red Play Doh.  So I frantically tried to address the blood.  I quickly realized my stupid ass seemed to have 800 tampons and no other sort of you know, lady products.

I gave up and waddled back upstairs to make the red Play Doh.

I told Chris what was up while hunting around for all those instructions the Doctor gives you about what to do if you’re in labor or bleeding or whatever.

Then I made Chris take Mac to the Park.

“Text me every 10 minutes so I know you’re okay,” Chris ordered. “What if you pass out in the shower or something?”

Really?  There’s a greater threat of that on a normally routine basis due to wine hangover.

I located the literature the Doctor had given me.  “If you are bleeding, call labor and delivery immediately.”

Is that a suggestion?  That could be a suggestion depending on the inflection with which you read it.


Well, you’re not ready to go to the hospital.  So. . .So you need to STOP BLEEDING.  That’s the only possible solution right now.  STOP BLEEDING!  

I looked at my hands.  They looked like a tie dyed T-Shirt from the food coloring.

Shouldn’t I be in pain?

I texted Chris to tell him he had better call his Brother and I was getting in the shower.

After showering, I convinced myself the gushing had remedied itself so I made dinner and started packing.

But not even I can be that delusional for too long:  I had to make the call.

Chris returned.  His Brother arrived.  I got dinner on the table, snuck to the basement and dialed the phone.

Me:  “So I’m scheduled for an induction later this evening but I’m bleeding.”

Lady in Labor & Delivery:  Silence

Me:  “Hello?”

Lady:  “What is your question?”

Me:  JESUSYOUIDIOT! “Well your booklet says to call if I’m bleeding.  I’m bleeding.”

Lady:  “Yeah, you should probably get here soon.”

At times like these I really miss having the ability to slam down the phone in someone’s ear.

I raced upstairs to ransack my purses for feminine hygiene products.  I located one partially mangled maxi pad in the Dooney & Burke leather tote I sometimes used as a diaper bag after Mac was born.  “I am truly blessed,” I whispered to myself – still being all Susie Sunshine.

I drug Chris to the basement and told him we needed to go.

And we made a hasty escape out the basement door into the already dark night.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Sure.” I said.  “Nothing hurts.  I just want to make sure the baby is okay.  I’m a little scared.  It seemed like a lot of blood you know?”

“Do you want me to drop you off?” He asked as I directed him towards a parking garage at the hospital.

“No.  No.  I’m good to walk.”

When we arrived at the very new, very handsome Labor and Delivery Floor at Johns Hopkins Hospital, I confidently walked up to the security desk.

“They’re expecting me.” I said smiling sweetly at the security guards.  “And oh my word, that’s a jaw dropping view of the city behind you!”

It was truly spectacular.  The guards pointed us towards a lounge area that was reminiscent of a decent hotel.  I plopped down in a chair and took in the view.

I checked my phone.

Chris and I joked around.

I watched the Security Guards eat their dinners.

Then it occurred to me:  Um.  We’re still sitting here.  And I’m bleeding.  And I thought this could possibly be an emergency.

“What’s taking so long?” I hissed at Chris.  “What if there’s something really wrong with our baby?”

“I want you to know I called ahead.” He said.

“What do you mean?  Like you called ahead to make sure there was champagne and cookies waiting for us?”

“No.” Chris said, completely serious.  “I called ahead to tell them we didn’t want that nurse we had last time.”

“Shut up.  You did not.”

“I did.  I knew you wouldn’t say anything if she was our nurse again.”

My jaw dropped and would have likely hit the floor had it not landed on my protruding stomach.

“You did NOT.  This is why we’re waiting.  We’ve been flagged.  They already think we’re assholes!”

The security guard glanced my way.

“Now what?” I whispered.

Another shift of security guards took over at the desk.  It felt like we had been waiting forever but it was likely just over an hour.

Just as I was hoping I wasn’t leaking fluids onto the nice furniture, one of the new guards approached us.

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“Unacceptable.” He said when he heard our response.  “I’ll go back there and see what’s going on.”

He returned a few minutes later.

“Come with me,” he said as he waved his badge at a sensor near the big imposing doors.  “Some of these nurses, man, they don’t care.  I’m telling you.”

I giggled uncomfortably.  If Chris’ phone call hadn’t gotten us in the L&D nurses bad graces, this rogue security guard’s unsolicited help surely had.

The doors slammed shut behind me.

Good attitude.  Delusion.  Stubbornness.  And now in the company of two complainers. . .

I had it coming to me. . .











One Response to “Unmedicated Birth: I Wouldn’t Recommend It – Part I”

  1. Scroogy says:

    Way to leave a girl in suspense! Gah.