Not for the faint of heart. I repeat. Not for the faint of heart.
Ok, it’s really not that bad, but I warned you. I mean, it’s about having a baby.
November 7th, 2011. 4:45 a.m. or so. A brave fall morning. Street lights glowing on the newborn golden leaves. Just me and Brian driving down Poplar Pike, unexperienced "adults" trying to grasp that their lives are about to drastically change. Ok, maybe that was just me. I really couldn't fathom that the time had come after all this waiting.
To our amazement, a red fox ran across the street. In all my years of living in Memphis I've only seen three foxes. One was in my parent’s neighborhood on a summer’s night. The other we saw as we were leaving the Christmas Eve service at our church. It had just started to snow and it seemed as if he decided to get out just for the occasion. This time, it was just as surprising and just as magical. I know that sounds silly, but I don’t know, there just seems to be something sort of magical about such an illusive and wily and beautiful creature. Just me, Brian, our not yet born Jack and that fox alone on the street; it was a really neat moment. We actually found a stuffed animal fox that Brian really wanted to get for Jack a few weeks before he was born and his mom bought it and sent it to us and we had it in our bag to take to the hospital (because Jack would definitely need something to cuddle with right after he was born). So I guess it’s kind of his power animal. Kidding. It was a special moment that we won’t forget.
That morning I had woken up to a really strong contraction and then I thought that my “water had broken”-kind of a gross term, huh. But since it doesn’t happen like it does in the movies I sent my mom a message, to which she promptly responded with a phone call and told me to go on in to the hospital.
After arriving at the hospital, and becoming positive that my water had indeed broken, the contractions I had been having since about 4 am were definitely in full force and were starting to hurt more. I had been having contractions on Sunday but they weren’t bad and whether they “went away” that night, or were just suppressed by my skills of heavy sleeping, they were definitely the real thing.
Much of this is unfortunately and fortunately becoming a blur, but I’m trying my best to recount it…albeit in a rather poor literary fashion.
I just remember being totally uncomfortable and part of that was due, I’m sure, to the fact that I had no idea what was going to happen and that I was helplessly out of control. They set me up to an iv (barf) to start Pitocin (more on that later) since the contractions weren’t very regular. The nurse checked my “progress” soon after I was in (which, let me be frank, is really, really uncomfortable/painful) and I was at 5cm. Because they wanted to “speed” things up since my water had already broken, they started me on Pitocin which makes your contractions closer together and stronger. My mom, dad, and sisters had come to the hospital and stopped in to check on things.
I had decided to try as long as I could to go without the epidural (because I really didn’t know my pain tolerance). I realized early on in the pregnancy that I may not last “naturally” for very long and my surrender to the wonders of modern medicine would not be a wound to my pride.
I didn’t last very long. The pitocin made the contractions so much worse and it was really the worst feeling I’ve ever had. Side note: I hate how the nurses ask you, “On a scale of one to ten, how is the pain?” because, honestly, I haven’t felt a lot of terrible pain in my life. I know, I’m prone to exaggeration, but I feel that I’m fairly tough when it comes to pain. Although this was probably the worst pain I’ve ever experienced, I could imagine being operated on without anesthesia or being hit by a car would be much worse pain and so my answer to “how’s the pain, ten being the worst pain you can imagine” was riddled with imaginations of really torturous situations and then I felt like a wimp so I’d say “um, a four?” when really I wanted to say, “Quit asking me dumb questions and give me the dang epidural!” So I guess my pride and “rational thought” did get in the way a little.
I think the reason I felt so terrible was that I knew the contractions were going to come every couple of minutes and there was nothing I could do about it. You know how you feel when you have to (I told you this was going to be gross) “Ralph” and you’re completely out of control of the situation? Remember how I hate being any out-of-control-of-the-situation? That’s what the contractions felt like to me, but longer and more painful and they don’t go away, and I also felt like I was going to “Ralph” for real. Poor Brian. He really looked at a loss there for a few minutes, but he was great and comforting and was really sweet when I, somewhat shamefully, admitted my defeat and offered my praise and admiration to the real women who do this completely naturally. Seriously, I don’t know how they do it. Amazing. Just amazing.
So I held out through the tough contractions for about an hour to an hour and a half and then said I was ready for the epidural. I wouldn’t have known it at the time, but Jesus was really looking out for me, because when the nurse came back from “ordering” the epidural she had bad news. The two nurse anesthetists were busy doing c-sections and would not be able to get to me for a while. Thankfully I had the best nurse ever because she went back out and begged the guy to come and set my epidural before he went in for the c-section. Ok, maybe she didn’t beg him, but let’s be dramatic here, it’s much more fun to envision her running down the hall and falling on her knees beseeching the man from Croatia who held all the power to save the beautiful princess from the grips of death.
I already admitted I exaggerate.
So the princess was saved from the grips of death but she had to go through dark and dangerous times to get there.
I was really most afraid of the epidural because I kind of have a “thing” with needles. Let’s not talk about this much. It happened quite quickly and the “good” thing about labor, my labor at least, is that I didn’t have a lot of time to “dwell” on the situation. I had nine months to “dwell” on the situation, but now that it was happening, I just had to deal with it. I guess the scariest part about the epidural at that moment was that I was having these really strong contractions and I kept shaking, but the guy was telling me I had to be really still (or else I was going to get paralyzed. Ok, he didn’t say that, but that’s what I was thinking). I don’t want to remember the rest of it, but let me just say, TOTALLY WORTH IT! Once that medicine started kicking in, I just kept praising the Lord for science. I’m not one who ever takes much medicine, but after “experiencing” labor I can safely say that I never want to do that again, am proud of “toughing it out” and will ask for that epidural when I walk into the hospital doors next time.
Soon after (around 9 am) I think my doctor showed up and said she’d be back around 12 pm to see how things were going. I told my mom and sisters they could come back and we all guessed as to when the baby would come; the nurse said she thought sometime around 2pm, but it could possibly be as late as 6pm. Feeling nice and relaxed (as much as one can in labor), we were all talking and “hanging out” when the nurse came back in because the baby’s heart rate had sped up and she wanted to check to make sure everything was alright. She didn’t tell us his heart rate had sped up, but she did say she wanted to check him, so I was a little concerned about what might be happening. She was as shocked as I was when she said, “Ok, you’re at 10cm”. I think I just stared at her blankly for a while, and she repeated excitedly, “You’re already at 10 and you’re going to have this baby pretty soon”. My mom and sisters were waiting behind the “curtain” and when the nurse told them to come out she said to me, “You want to tell them?” and I’m pretty sure my facial expression hadn’t changed from a few minutes before and I just kind of stared at them and finally said, “We’re about to have the baby so I think you need to leave”. For those of you bad at math I had progressed 5 cm in about an hour. Which is crazy. Thank goodness that anesthetist came when he did because Jack Gresham O’Dell was born an hour later.
The rest is truly a blur. I just remember that I kept looking at Brian and saying, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, what am I doing? We’re having a baby? This is crazy. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”
Our nurse got things ready and we “practiced” pushing for about 20 minutes and then she said, “Ok, don’t push any more, we need to get your doctor here.” Dr. Miller arrived about 15 minutes after that (I think, I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention to the time, but it was all really fast), got ready, I pushed once, and there was his head, twice and he was born! I couldn’t really feel anything, which I think was good, but he (Jack) literally shot out so fast Brian said the doctor wasn’t even expecting it (no offense to her, but he said he thought she almost dropped him because no one was expecting him to come that soon-yikes). Although I couldn’t feel much, I was completely lucid and remember hearing the doctor, or nurse, or maybe it was everyone say, “Whoa!” as they scrambled around and finally held him up for me to see. It was amazing to finally see the little person who had been kicking me and giving me heart burn for the last 6 months-it was finally real for me.
And so on November 7th, 2011 at 10:28 am Jack Gresham O’Dell, at 7 lbs 15 oz and 21 inches long, made his triumphant entry into the world. He came on his own accord, and with a ferocity that has yet to be kindled. To celebrate, he christened himself and all those around him straight from the womb. And whether in humor or aggravation at this new, cold, and non-cuddly world, he decided to take another go at the nurse who was scrubbing him clean. All in all, I was in "labor" for about 5 hours and at this point, I'd definitely do it again!
Seeing Brian hold him and seeing his love for our little man was a precious moment. He has never wanted to hold anyone else’s baby, but he looked perfectly confidant, strong, protective and proud as he held that tiny guy in his big ol’ arms.
We know we have a big job in store for us. Raising Jack will be hard. We're going to mess up, we're going to get frustrated, but I also think it's going to be worth it.
It's amazing how you can love someone so much when you hardly know them. Jack can't talk to us, he doesn't even really smile at us, he hasn't "done" anything to garner our adoration, but it doesn't matter. Strange how we can love someone just because. I guess we have a great example ourselves. But we love him. Love him like crazy. Even though we can't really explain it, this little person sure is some kind of somethin'.
