Posts
I had a relatively normal pregnancy. I was sick as hell and puked for about 6-7 months. The first couple of months I lost weight because I couldn't eat a thing. Sausage made me the sickest. All you had to do was cook it in the house and it sent me running to the bathroom. Of course, my brother took full advantage of this and cooked it whenever possible. Even hours later the smell would linger and make me sick.
I had typing class first period and I am honestly surprised I passed. More often than not I was running out of there to vomit. Fortunately the class was in a separate building so I didn't have to hunt down a bathroom, just puke outside.
My doctor was horrible. I was on Medicaid and went to the only private doctor outside of the health department clinic I could find. I guess he had his fill of poor, teenaged pregnant people because he was an ass. I knew exactly when I got pregnant. Hell we had only had sex one time and he was the only one I slept with. Not hard to do the math there but the doctor refused to listen to me about it. He went by the date of my last period, which I couldn't remember and just threw out a date.
Anyway, he decided to induce labor on me. I'm not sure why other than it was coming up the weekend and right before spring break and he did not want to be bothered by me going into labor. I went in on Thursday, March 21, 1991 to be induced first thing in the morning. I wasnt' scared of labor, I guess I should have been, but I wasn't. My mother, Aunt, my friend Sharon cousins, brother, grandmother, hell just about my entire family was there with me. Back then the hospital didn't have the open L&D rooms that they have now so only a few people could come in at a time. My brother got a thrill out of teasing me with commercials and pictures in magazines of food because I couldn't eat. He's an ass.
The doc came in about 12 or so to check me. He said things weren't progressing and if it didn't pick up, he would have to do a c-section. THAT scared me. I freaked out completely. I'm not sure why that scared me more than a "normal" birth did though.
He came back in at 2:30 and determined that we would have to do a c-section. This caused a full on spastic freak out. I cried, had an anxiety attack and hyperventilated. I just knew I was going to die on that table.
I did not know then, in my immaturity and youth, that I could dictate how my child was to be born. I could have said no. I could have made him wait. The baby was in no distress. She just was not ready to come out yet. By my calculations, she had another two weeks or so to cook in there. I later learned that the doc had a golf game that afternoon and wanted to head out, and he was on call. Like I said, ass.
The combination of the epidural and whatever else they gave me, made me sick. I ended up throwing up while on the table, go figure, me puking haha. The baby still did not want to come out. I'm telling you, she was just about as far up into my rib cage as she could get. The doctor pushed and pulled to no avail. She was comfortable and determined to stay! He ended up using forecepts to get her out. Again, another case of if I had known then what I know now, that would not have happened. He got her out, at a cost, he bruised her face with the forecepts and cut her eye, a scar she still wears today.
I remember hearing her cry and just wanting to see her. My mother was in there with me the whole time and assured me that everything was okay.
When they laid that baby in my arm for the first time, my God it was instant love and facination. She was absolutely beautiful, even beaten up and mad like she was. I checked fingers and toes and cried. They had to take her though before I threw up on her. My mom took her to the nursery and I promptly went to sleep. I vaguely remember the doctor talking to me after they took her out of the OR and then later waking up in recovery and asking about her.
I didn't really wake up until a couple hours later in my room surrounded by my family just all waiting to welcome the new member of the family.
I had typing class first period and I am honestly surprised I passed. More often than not I was running out of there to vomit. Fortunately the class was in a separate building so I didn't have to hunt down a bathroom, just puke outside.
My doctor was horrible. I was on Medicaid and went to the only private doctor outside of the health department clinic I could find. I guess he had his fill of poor, teenaged pregnant people because he was an ass. I knew exactly when I got pregnant. Hell we had only had sex one time and he was the only one I slept with. Not hard to do the math there but the doctor refused to listen to me about it. He went by the date of my last period, which I couldn't remember and just threw out a date.
Anyway, he decided to induce labor on me. I'm not sure why other than it was coming up the weekend and right before spring break and he did not want to be bothered by me going into labor. I went in on Thursday, March 21, 1991 to be induced first thing in the morning. I wasnt' scared of labor, I guess I should have been, but I wasn't. My mother, Aunt, my friend Sharon cousins, brother, grandmother, hell just about my entire family was there with me. Back then the hospital didn't have the open L&D rooms that they have now so only a few people could come in at a time. My brother got a thrill out of teasing me with commercials and pictures in magazines of food because I couldn't eat. He's an ass.
The doc came in about 12 or so to check me. He said things weren't progressing and if it didn't pick up, he would have to do a c-section. THAT scared me. I freaked out completely. I'm not sure why that scared me more than a "normal" birth did though.
He came back in at 2:30 and determined that we would have to do a c-section. This caused a full on spastic freak out. I cried, had an anxiety attack and hyperventilated. I just knew I was going to die on that table.
I did not know then, in my immaturity and youth, that I could dictate how my child was to be born. I could have said no. I could have made him wait. The baby was in no distress. She just was not ready to come out yet. By my calculations, she had another two weeks or so to cook in there. I later learned that the doc had a golf game that afternoon and wanted to head out, and he was on call. Like I said, ass.
The combination of the epidural and whatever else they gave me, made me sick. I ended up throwing up while on the table, go figure, me puking haha. The baby still did not want to come out. I'm telling you, she was just about as far up into my rib cage as she could get. The doctor pushed and pulled to no avail. She was comfortable and determined to stay! He ended up using forecepts to get her out. Again, another case of if I had known then what I know now, that would not have happened. He got her out, at a cost, he bruised her face with the forecepts and cut her eye, a scar she still wears today.
I remember hearing her cry and just wanting to see her. My mother was in there with me the whole time and assured me that everything was okay.
When they laid that baby in my arm for the first time, my God it was instant love and facination. She was absolutely beautiful, even beaten up and mad like she was. I checked fingers and toes and cried. They had to take her though before I threw up on her. My mom took her to the nursery and I promptly went to sleep. I vaguely remember the doctor talking to me after they took her out of the OR and then later waking up in recovery and asking about her.
I didn't really wake up until a couple hours later in my room surrounded by my family just all waiting to welcome the new member of the family.
0 comments:
Post a Comment