The first labor pain I felt was early on a Sunday morning, 2-28-88. Considerate even then, you had allowed me to get a full night of rest before deciding it was time to make your entrance into our world.
While your dad called my mother to come stay with Chris who was 2 years old at the time, I showered and got dressed to go to the hospital.
Upon arrival at 7:30 a.m. at Kingfisher Hospital, we went in through the ER doors, the only ones unlocked. Because it was Kingfisher, there was no one manning the desk but our entrance had cause a bell to ring so that someone would come. Good thing I wasn’t having a heart attack because a full 15 minutes later, out comes a sleepy nurse and a security guard to greet us.
She took us to a room and a few minutes later another nurse shows up. In her arms is a big box. She unpacks the contents, a brand new fetal heart monitor, takes a seat in a chair and begins to read the instruction book. This didn’t inspire confidence in your dad and me and if you had been my first and I hadn’t known what this childbirth thing was all about I would have freaked out at the lack of concern.
While an aide helped me undress and got me into a bed, another nurse came in to check my dilation. She made a circle with her hands, placing her thumbs and pointer fingers together and showed the other nurse, who had reached the step 1 portion of the instruction manual….plug in the monitor.
How dilated is she? your dad asked. She showed him the circle she had made with her hands. About this much, she said nonchalantly. Is that a 3? A 4? Aren’t you supposed to know these things? He said getting more impatient by the minute. She just said, probably one of those. And left the room to go find the doctor.
While she was gone, we seriously considered leaving and going to Oklahoma City to a hospital where the fetal heart monitors were already unboxed, where the nurses knew labor terminology. But another pain doubled me over and we decided to stay. Thank God, I was in my natural childbirth is the only way to go frame of mind (years later I would think, WHAT WAS I THINKING!) I don’t think I would have trusted anyone present with a needle to administer an epidural. Well, maybe your dad.
The doctor showed up having been paged. What a relief it was to see Dr. Arthurs. Finally, some competence. He strapped the fetal heart monitor on me, hooked me up to a machine that measured my heart rate, said see you in a little bit and left the room.
For the next couple of hours, your dad and I just talked. In between labor pains that is. When one would hit your dad would go into full Lamaze partner mode saying things like look at your focal point (which incidentally was a stuffed bear at the end of the bed), breathe 2, 3, 4. In, out, pant. Quite annoying actually and I believe I told him to shut the hell up several times. Having been through this once before and realizing that I didn’t really mean the hateful things coming out of my mouth at him, he never flinched. Labor pains can turn the sweetest, nicest woman into a foul mouthed lunatic.
Finally, Dr. Arthurs returned, checked the dilation, made the 0 sign with his hands to the nurse, said “its gonna be a while, I’m headed to Church, see you in a couple of hours. At this point I began to beg. Please please don’t go Dr. Arthurs. I’m pretty sure I need to push. I’m pretty sure I’m about to have the baby. Nonsense he said. You have lots of time before you will need to push. Feeling the pressure in my abdomen I said, No, I am pretty sure I need to push. No you don’t he said. Help her breathe he said to Mike and left the room.
15 minutes later I am screaming bloody murder while the nurses scramble in and out of the room, not sure what to do because you are definitely making your entrance. This time when they check for dilation, the nurse says to the other “call Dr. Arthurs stat.” The baby is crowning.
Mike launches into full Lamaze mode and I think for a few panicky minutes thinks that he may have to deliver you himself, even though we are at A HOSPITAL for crying out loud.
Dr. Arthurs comes into the room just as they begin to push my hospital bed toward an operating room. My mother arrives about that time, having left Chris with his Pepa and relief washes over me. Finally, someone who knows what they are doing!
She watches through the operating room window as you enter the world. Mike squeezes my hand as the Dr. pronounces It’s a Boy and I weep in relief that you are here. A sense of de ja vu washes over me as he hold you up because you look exactly like Chris did when he was born. Mike walks over to the area they have taken you to clean you up, does a quick once over and turns to me and says “he has all his parts”. Good thing, that.
Since you are a male, you will never have the opportunity to experience this miracle of a life being born from your body. There is no way to describe the euphoria of seeing that baby for the first time. Any memory of the labor pains recedes to the background as the complete and total joy returns when they hand you your child. Hi, Andy I say softly. Welcome to the world. I’m your mama.
Always will be. You are precious to me my son. My love for you will never fail. When I think of you my heart swells with pride and bursts with love. You are loved beyond words.
Happy 23rd birthday, Andrew Michael Byers. 2-28-11
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