It was December of 2004; the frost had finally come to this tiny Florida town, and along with it, came my greatest accomplishment, my only son Zayne Alexander. The first of three miracles I would have the pleasure of creating. I was 23 when I found out I was pregnant. It was not the traditional, get married, and have a baby scenario. We were only dating and although we had known each other almost our entire lives; he bailed the moment I told him I was pregnant. Well, really, a week later, after he had decided that he was not ready to have a baby. Therefore, I was twenty-three, single and pregnant.
I think the best word to describe, how I felt about the pending birth would be scared. Questions flooded my mind. How could I care for a little human, be solely responsible for another life? What if something was wrong with my baby? What if, What if, What if? Up to that point in my life, I was an adult but without any real responsibilities. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and I did not have anyone to tell me otherwise. The fear was real. I read everything I could get my hands on, everything about labor, breastfeeding, circumcision, parenting; I could not get enough. Still, nothing I read would be able to prepare me totally for, my first birth experience.
I had chosen to see the local midwives for my pre-natal care; they were the best option for low-income families that the area had to offer. The midwives worked the local hospital and were always on call. Their compassion and care was top-notch in my book. I was very aware of all the options that were available for the birth of my baby. I chose what I believed to be the best options for me. I know that not all people, (my best friend included) agree with my decisions; but we do agree every woman has the right to make her own informed choices about her birth. I was comfortable with the idea that I was at the hospital, with procedures, and doctors, and medicine.
My estimated due date was December 12. I was so excited when it came and so depressed when it passed. I was hoping that I would not be one of the many women who pass their due date, unfortunately for me, I was. Those last couple of weeks, felt like years. Being single and pregnant is not the way pregnancy was designed; it was the longest nine months of my life. I spent the time reading about birth and watching divorce court on TV. Not the healthiest combination, I know!
I had been to the hospital one time with Braxton hicks contractions after my estimated due date, it was discouraging. What would labor feel like? How would I know I was really in labor? I did not want to go back to the hospital, only to be told it was just a practice run, again. The days continued and the fluids around the baby started to lessen. When I went to the hospital for a late-due date ultrasound, they said they would induce me and sent me to labor and delivery in the hospital. I was excited, nervous, and scared out of my mind all at the same time.
When I went to labor and delivery, the floor was very full. (It was a full moon.) They had women in different parts of the hospital who were already laboring. Therefore, they sent me home and said, come back tomorrow and we will induce you. I was more than ready for next day, but I waiting anxiously. At four o’clock in the afternoon, I happily returned with high hopes of delivering my baby that day. I was so scared, but ready; ready to finally see this little person that I had been so painstakingly making in my own little baby makin’ machine. (Which my son would one day, refer to my stomach as.)
They started me on Pitocin almost immediately, and oh boy, did it start my labor. The contractions had a small incline in intensity, for a short period of time they were mild. Period cramps would be a comparable sensation. Then they got serious, quickly. The word contraction, means to contract and that makes sense, but until you experience a contraction; you just do not know the depth of the meaning of contract. The contractions had been very intense for about an hour before they informed me that I was only, 4 centimeters. I went to the hospital knowing that I wanted an epidural and they did not want to give me one until I was a little farther along, in fear that it might slow my labor, which it did, and I was glad I was prepared for that. Before the epidural, during strong contractions, I would try everything; sitting up, laying down, on all fours…..nothing seemed to help. I begged my mom, the nurses, anyone who came into my room, please get my epidural. Time continued on without pain medication, when some random labor and delivery nurse, not my midwives, barged into my room. The monitor had slipped from the round of my belly during a contraction, so the nurse, whom did not introduce herself, started to walk toward me. I was in the middle of a contraction and trying to sit up and see if that was a tolerable position. When the random, nameless, nurse came in my room and started toward my belly; I suddenly developed a bout of circumstantial turrets. I told that nurse that if she touched me I would punch her in the face. I think that is when they finally decided that it was time to give me the pain relief!
My mother had accompanied me to the hospital and one of my best friends was my other birth partner, I called her after I had settled into the hospital around 6 pm; she was on a mystery dinner theater train, four hours away. She arrived just after my epidural. (Lucky for her!) I was in rare form and my poor mother got the worst of it. It was 12 at night before I received my epidural and the next nine hours seemed to drag on, and on. I could not sleep, although I was exhausted. My mother and friend took turns sleeping on the couch and taking breaks out of the room.
When the day light started to creep in through the blinds, there was a refreshed feeling in the room. We had made it through the night without incident. As time ticked on, I almost forgot that we were there to have a baby, which I had to push out. Another friend of mine came to the hospital, there was a two people limit in your labor and delivery room, but this friend worked at the hospital, so she was just stopping by for a short while. My mother and my two friends decided to go and get some breakfast from the cafeteria. I lay in bed wondering what was going to happen and when was it going to happen. When the pressure started to surpass the pain threshold the epidural had so wonderfully enforced. I felt like I really had to take a number two. Being that I was alone and stuck in bed, they brought me a bedpan. I just could not do it. The idea of just lying in bed and taking a poop was impossible to get pass. The nurses had changed shifts and the new nurse said she thought it was time to check me. While my support team was gone, she did; and what do you know, it was time to push. I was alone, with a new nurse and suddenly I was more scared than I had ever been in my life.
As they started to summons the midwife, and get all of their supplies handy, my mother and friends returned. Thank You God! My mom was holding one leg and my best friend holding the other, and my bonus friend holding my hair back I pushed with all of my might, for an hour straight. It was very slow going. Out a little, all the way back in. This continued for an hour and fifteen minutes, when the midwife told me, with a certain strong tone. Stacie, you have to get this baby out right now, you have to push as hard as you can. At that time, I thought that she was just coaching me. I did what she said. I pushed with all of my might. When my son finally made it out, my best friend started to cry. At first, I thought they were happy tears. She started to repeat, “Do you hear him crying?” When I finally started to notice that, I did not hear my baby crying. “I don’t hear him, I don’t hear him!” I frantically screamed as I realized she was not crying happy tears.
When my son was born, he was not breathing, he was gray, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck twice. They whisked him away, behind a curtain in my room and started baby CPR. After what seemed like hours but was only a couple of moments, I heard my baby start to make noises. Not crying… but noises. I wanted nothing more than to hold my baby, make sure that he was okay and nurse him, but they had to take him away, immediately. They would not even let me hold him one time. I cried. I was happy. I was sad. I was still very scared. I had just endured the most life transforming event of my life and felt empty for the next four hours while they observed him in the nursery. I sent my mother to take his picture so that I could see him while we were apart those first few hours. However, when he was returned to me, he was perfect in every way. I did it. I made another human being. I did it, and now I know that I can do anything.
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