Whether you're about to give birth or already a mom of a big kid, you'll laugh and cry reading these moving birth stories (14 Photos)
On the night of July 29th, one week before my due date, I was feeling a little nauseous (as I did throughout most of my pregnancy.) I ate my favorite comfort food -- scrambled eggs and Eggo waffles -- and I went to bed. That night, around 2am, I started feeling sharp pains in my stomach. Pains I had never felt in my life before.
Of course, in retrospect, it’s clear what was happening -- my daughter, Samantha, was on her way. But at the time, I was in total denial. I just couldn’t believe that I was actually having a baby! So instead of assuming the obvious, I started worrying instead that the eggs I had eaten for dinner were making me sick. I thought, “Oh no, maybe they weren’t cooked enough. Maybe I have salmonella poisoning. What if it affects the baby?”
After 1½ hours of suffering in silence, I woke up my husband, Larry. I said, “Honey, my stomach hurts.” (I know it sounds crazy, but I was in total denial). Thankfully, my husband was on the ball. He immediately sat up, turned on the lights, grabbed his stopwatch, and said, “Dina, you’re in labor. We need to time your contractions.”
We did that for about five hours and at 8:30am we called the doctor. She said to come to the hospital at 10:30am.
Well, during the next two hours my contractions really started coming closer together. And they certainly started getting much stronger. I was doubled over in pain, shouting at my husband, “Get me to the hospital. I need my epidural!”
Now, I have a friend who had a mishap when her son was born -- for some reason the doctors never gave her an epidural and when they finally listened to my friend’s pleas and cries, it was too late. She had to deliver without one.
And that story is all I could think of when I got to the hospital. I do not handle pain well -- a mere toe stub sends me crashing to the floor. That’s why I told the receptionist at check in, the orderlies, the nurses, every person who would listen, “Please do not forget my epidural. I must have an epidural.”
My contractions continued getting worse and worse. And I thought they’d never end. But finally, they sent an anesthesiologist in to administer the epidural. He said, “Sit very still” while he attempted to poke this needle into my spine. Of course, just as he’s saying this, I had a whopper of a contraction, so I was gripping the table trying my best not to move.
Twenty minutes later, I wasn’t feeling the effects of the epidural. It didn’t take! So I had to go through the whole process again. Luckily, this time it worked and, after that, I was feeling no pain. I spent the rest of the day writing in my journal, joking with Larry and my parents, and listening to my “Dina’s Labor Mix” (complete with “I Will Survive” and “Go the Distance”.) The epidural worked so well that there were times when my monitor indicated I was having a contraction that was off the charts. My husband’s eyes would get wide in disbelief watching it. And I’d say to him, “What’s up?” because I had no clue what was going on.
Finally, the doctor arrived. At that point, I was 10 centimeters and ready to push. I had a mirror in place so I could watch my daughter’s birth in action. I pushed twice (though I couldn’t feel it!) and at 4:21pm out popped the sweetest, prettiest baby in the world. Samantha had arrived and I was finally a mom.
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