Wednesday, August 5, 2009

This is Nothing Like Babysitting

I did lots and lots of babysitting as a teenager. Thought I could rely on those years of training with all the kids I had taken care of along the way. HA!! That gap of some fifteen years in addition to skills now gone rusty made bringing our little bundle home a whole new ballgame. Kind of like being a grandparent. Love the grandkids. Spoil the grandkids. Send them home. Watch the neighbor's son and daughter for a few hours. Play. Read. Color a few pictures. Go home. No muss. No fuss.

First of all let me state that if EVER I hear someone in the future say that a new mother will know what an infant needs by the sound of their cry I will call them CRAZY to their face. I had no idea if our son was hungry or wet or mad or sad or any of that. I just went down that checklist in the last sentance and tried to figure it out. Then I kept him all wrapped up like a papoose because that's what they did in the hospital....until my mother calmly asked me if I walked around the house tightly wrapped up in a blanket. And I scrubbed everything 2 or 3 or 4 times to make sure whatever came in contract with the baby was germ-free. To which a good friend calmly said, and I quote: "Babies survive in Ethiopia, you know." So I only scrubbed two times after that.

I wasn't very good at sharing either. Especially at first. I was extremely possessive. Didn't let family members or friends hold him for 'too' long a time. Made me nervous. I eventually learned to 'exhale' and got comfortable with the fact that those who wanted to have him in their arms for a while would be extra-special careful. Babies do that to people. They bring out the best in us.

We read and we rocked. Bathed him and sang to him. Gasped the first time he did the little boy arch of water during a diaper change....and laughed whenever it happened again because we were prepared with a quick washcloth. We took pictures. We would stare and study him, memorizing each tiny feature. Every little expression. Listened to all the sounds he made. Rained kisses on his soft cheeks and downy head. Those were the moments I knew it didn't matter if I remembered all the details from my Red Cross Babysitting Class lessons. What we did know was that a far greater hand was leading us and teaching us. What we didn't know was that He was also slowly preparing us for the adventures yet to be.....

In Control

About 4am the contractions started. I was making sure my bag was packed, the house was neat, the baby's room ready. I was wide awake. My husband calmly went back to bed. From my perspective I thought he should be as wound-up as I was. Looking from his perspective it was very early and there was still time left to catch a little more sleep. Who could argue?? Everything was going as planned so let him sleep!

Called the doctor appropriately when the labor pains were getting closer. Waited for their call back. Waited. Waited. And waited some more. Finally my husband called the office ~ "OH! We thought you said a different last name and we have soooo many of those in our system that we couldn't possibly have called them all. Thank you for calling back." Now I am listening to this conversation thinking this is going well so far. Helloooo. She asked him which one of the two hospitals, where the OB/GYN group delivered, we would like to go to. And my logical husband replied we would go wherever the doctor was (do we hear a 'dah'??) that morning as he repeated that my labor pains were now less than ten minutes apart.

After getting that all straightened out he put me in the car and off we went. This begins my favorite part of the story. The shortest route was down a extremely well traveled street in our community that desperately needed repair. Think corregated cardboard. Bump-bump....Bump-bump....Bump-bump. Hear my poor driver apologizing after every Bump-bump. And me telling him, keeping in the same rhythm as in my breathing techniques, that everything was okay. It wasn't his fault. That he was doing a fine job. I was calm and cool and supportive on the outside (while secretly hoping after every rise in that asphalt the baby didn't decide to pop out on the inside!!!).

He dropped me off at the hospital's lobby so he could get the car parked in the adjacent garage. What you have to picture and understand here is that the hospital's lobby and attached corridors were under construction. We're talking caution tape and bare drywall. The only other person in this entire place is a woman seated at a little desk who must have been there to give directions, whatever. I have no idea what her use was. All I can tell you is that she paid absolutely no attention to this very pregnant, obviously near birth mother-to-be. I should have been screaming to get her attention or something. But noooooo. Not me. I was in control. I didn't need her...or a wheelchair....or an attendant to push me to Labor and Delivery...or anybody or anything. Finally my spouse rushed through the door and led me toward the elevator. For this 'visual' think of the old Batman TV show where he and Robin would "walk" up the side of buildings by pulling themselves up a rope (remember that??). Now picture me pulling myself down the hallway hand-over-hand on the handrail. Seriously. The thought went through my mind that this was it. The headlines in the next morning edition of the newspaper would read: "Baby Shoots Out Like a Stick of Butter in Hospital Hallway". But I was in control.

Long story short. I was put in a delivery room, took out my sour cherry sucker, took two licks and made to the bathroom sink before I threw up (already in Transition and the stomach wasn't interested in refreshments). The nurse left me alone for 45 minutes. Sauntered in (finally) to fill out a form. The husband was giving wrong answers so I interrupted in-between my hee-hee's and ho-ho's (heck I was so lost I just decided to make whatever noise made sense to me and kept my mind off the contractions!) to give the correct answers. Never raised my voice. Never shouted any insults. I was going to be a sweet loving lady through the entire ordeal until.....she told me to turn on my side which I did. Then she asked me if I felt like pushing. PUSHING?? That was it. This was my first baby. I had no idea if I felt like pushing or not. But I certainly felt like punching 'Nurse Rachet" then, that's for sure!! So she decided to meander over to do a little checking. And what do you know?? "The baby's crowning!!" Her eyes got real big and she turned on her heel to rush over to push the double doors wide open. "I NEED HELP IN HERE!!!" she yelled down the hall. Instantly there was a doctor, an intern, a nurse in the room. The lights were turned down. The team got down to business and after four pushes and a little over six hours after the labor started I presented a darling baby boy to a very proud father.

My first thought after I got to hold him? I wondered what his voice would sound like. Second? I realized I felt perfectly normal as if I had never been pregnant. Third? I couldn't wait to have grandchildren. Fourth? I was starved and steak sure sounded good. Fifth? Control was a very good thing.