Spenser's
Birth StorySpenser's
Birth Story
How he was born
They tell you that birth is one of the most awesome and wonderful things that can ever happen to you. They are right, whoever the hell they are. But there are some women out there who will tell you that "oh, you forget the pain" and "Oh, it was so beautiful that you don't even feel it that much", or even "I didn't even need drugs". These women are liars. While I did like being pregnant and the birth was indeed the most special day of my life, all of the above is BS. Oh, and that Tylenol commercial where the lady gives birth and starts to hurt until she swallows a couple Tylenols is all BS. My nurse gave me a Vicodin, cause I was definitely hurting. But, I am getting ahead of myself. let me tell you how Spenser James came into this world.
I found out that I was pregnant in early February of last year on the same day that my husband had started his new job. This job was a definite step down from the last one, which he had been "let go" from. We were nervous about how our already depleted funds were going to make it when he would be earning half what he had before. But at least he had a job, right? Of course, I was barely 4 months in to mine and was afraid that if I told them that I was pregnant that I would lose my job. Neither one of us had health insurance, although since I had passed my 90 days, I could sign up for it. (As long as they did not make already being pregnant a reason to decline your application, and some insurance companies do that.) I remember calling my husband's job where I had to ask one of his bosses to page him in his truck, since he was then a driver. The guy did and a few minutes later I got a call back. He was with a co-worker getting trained on his route. I told him and he was happy, but we both started wondering what we were going to do with less money and another mouth to feed?
As the months went on, we began getting more and more into debt. My shiny new car was repossessed, the creditors began calling us 7 days a week, and my parents gave us an anniversary present of paying the rent for us cause we could not. It began to seem hopeless. (In a lot of ways, it still does). But at least I knew my little boy was coming.
In late August my grandfather went into the hospital with what they thought was pneumonia. He was admitted into the ICU. He was already wheelchair bound after suffering a major stroke and many smaller ones. His heart wasn't the greatest and he was beginning to show the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. (His brother had died of that several years before.) He wasn't in the best of health already and my family knew that him being in the ICU was not the best of signs.
Meanwhile, Sean and I were waiting for the October 20th due date to arrive. I was waiting more for my maternity leave to start, since I hated my job and wanted out of there. But we were also nervous because Sean had been a big baby. He was 11 pounds, actually, and my tummy was really big, so the doctor and I agreed that we would do an Ultrasound in September. It was done on Tuesday September 12th. The ultrasound technician told me that she estimated that Spenser already weighed 6 lbs, but she was more afraid that his head would be too big. It was already at 13 inches around, which is what most babies have at birth. She gave me this look like, "lady, you might just be getting yourself a c-section". Like that made me feel better. But she told me that she could not guarantee anything and that I would really have to wait until my next doctor's appointment, which was a week from that Wednesday, September 20th.
I visited my grandfather on Saturday September 16th in the ICU. He was still relatively coherent and I was gleefully showing him the new ultrasound picture, which was ironically less clear then the one that we had gotten at 5 months. But, he looked at it as if he knew what it was. When my grandmother left the room on one of her rare sojourns out of the ICU to get some coffee, he told me to come stand closer to him. I did. Then he told me that my son would come early. He looked me straight in the eyes and told me that I would have that baby soon.
That Tuesday I awoke at 4 am to find that my water had broken. I rushed into the bathroom, feeling like I really had to pee, but the bed was wet, so I thought that I was just experiencing the bladder control problem that many pregnant women do at that stage in their pregnancy. However, when I turned on the light and noticed that the liquid was slightly pink, I knew that IT had happened. I was going to have the baby.
After tossing some clothes in a bag, (since I was a month early we had not packed my hospital bag) we drove to the hospital. Mental note: this is a good time to go into labor for the simple fact that there is no one on the streets and a drive that can take as long as an hour in rush hour (why do they call it that when you just sit there?) traffic took us a mere 15 minutes. We checked in to a room and they hooked me up to the contraction and fetal heartbeat monitors. So far, I had not had a contraction. But, my water had just broken, so they thought that I would be fine. Then they put me on an antibiotic IV so that infection would not set in the now ruptured sack. My OB/GYN strolled into the room around 9a.m. and told me that if I did not have some better contractions then the little cramp like ones that I was having, them he would have do induce them. But, he said he would give me a chance. Funny, how they tell you this when you have zero control over your contractions. Then he informed me that he would be leaving around noon and that his partner would be delivering my son. He estimated the time of delivery at 6 or 7 that night. But he told me that he would be back before he left to check on me.
Oh, I had to call my work and tell them that I was not coming in since they expected me to be working for another 2 weeks or so until I was scheduled for leave. They still had not gotten a replacement for me and I know that they must have been shocked when they learned that I was in labor.
At one the doctor came back and told me that he would be leaving now and then he noticed that my contractions were getting stronger. Strong enough to hurt, let me tell you. I had dilated to 5 1/2 centimeters, which qualified me for an Epidural. ladies, listen up. The epidural is awesome. Once you get past that big old needle being inserted into your spine, which isn't fun, the numbness sets in and the contractions don't hurt anymore.
We waited around and the nurses montitored my contractions and my dilation. I hit the 6 cm mark and the told me that they would give me a little booster to the epidural. But then I thought about it and realized that I was feeling much more pressure then I had before. I knew his head was RIGHT THERE and that I was getting close. I asked her to check me again, and so she did, saying that she didn't think that I had changed much in the 20 minutes since my last dilation check. Boy was she wrong. I had dilated to 9 cm and she told me that I would be having that baby within the hour. The epidural was still working, and that was great for the contractions, except that now I couldn't feel to push. We had to wait a few minutes after my initial tries before I finally felt that I could feel the contractions enough to push. It just wasn't working with the nurse telling me that I was having one by looking at the monitor and me trying to push with the contraction that I just could not feel.
When his head was finally coming out she told me to stop and she would call the doctor. What the hell is that? You don't have someone put that much effort into pushing and then just tell them to stop and wait. Nope, that just sucks. They tried to keep my mind off of it while they waited for the doctor to get there from next door. He walked in wearing his suit and tie and took one look at me and said, "Oh, I guess I better scrub up and get changed, shouldn't I?" No kidding. This guy was a genius.
After a total of about 30- 45 minutes of pushing, Spenser came out. He had the cord wrapped around his neck (twice) with is arm in there to stop it from choking him and his head had gotten a little stuck and one side of it was lopsided, but otherwise he was the most perfect thing that I had ever seen. The doctor placed him on my chest and began the procedure to cut the cord. I looked lovingly at my gorgeous son who was crying and shaking. Then, my beautiful new child peed on me for the very first time. We all laughed. He weighed 5lbs, 15 oz, was 18 inches long, and his head was 13inches around. That is just one ounce shy of the estimate that the tech had given me a week earlier.
As I recovered and took my son home, I also thought about Grandpa sitting in another hospital. My grandmother, my father, his wife, my aunt, and her daughters went as often as possible. I ventured out once not too long after delivery. The baby was not allowed up to the same floor as the ICU and I had to leave him down with my Aunt while I visited Grandpa. The family was just tickled with the new baby. When my Grandma wasn't there by his side I would take Spense over to her house to visit. It helped keep her mind off of the fact that his condition was worsening almost daily. He had already been put on a ventilator and he was no longer talking. When I saw him he was staring with his eyes wide open at the ceiling, not moving at all. I knew that my son had come early to ease the family's pain.
Maybe my grandpa had known this. Perhaps he had even secretly worked out a deal that day in the hospital bed with the great-grandson that he would never see. He died in his room in the ICU on October 13th at 3:30 am, just a week before my original due date. I took my son to my parent's house and waited for them to come back from the hospital. I was not one to sit in the hospital and be on "death watch". I had told my grandfather how much I loved him and he knew it. I doubt he would have wanted me to sit there and be sad and uncomfortable as I would have been if I would have gone when I got the call earlier that morning telling me that he would not last much longer.
For weeks afterwards I would walk over to my grandmother and parent's house for a daily visit. My grandmother would light up at the sight of my little boy. The tears would be stopped for a while, at least. They had been married for 55 years. I can't imagine what that is like.
Spenser is still the light in her eyes. Oh, she has two great-granddaughters as well. My cousin had her second little girl the previous March. But I think Spense came at a time when he was really needed. Here was the definite symbol of the circle of life. While we were grieving the loss of one dear family member, another one was beginning his own life. So it was with much love and sadness as well as a sense of hope when we all boarded a private boat and sailed it to a lighthouse where we scattered some of his ashes over the sea as he would have wanted. (The rest the Coast Guard spread out in a ceremony that they do for their own.) Spenser was still too young to know what the heck was going on, but he sat bundled in my step-mother's arms as we rode the choppy water to where the ashes would be spread. He didn't cry once, sleeping most of the time we were out there. He must have known that this was a solemn occasion. Like I said, I think Grandpa and Spenser made a deal, and they both kept their end of the bargain.
