The Birth Story, Part IV: In Which There Is Pushing. And Also a Baby

By the end of this blog post,
he will finally have arrived!

Note: You can find part I here, part II here, and part III here.

Finally, the pushing! Ah, sigh. Pushing. It just feels so lovely after all of those other contractions. Doing something! Progress! The end in sight! After the first unmistakable need to push, I turned to Brice calmly (it felt calm, anyway; I have no idea how I actually sounded) and said, “If the girls are going to be here for the birth, you’d better go get them.”

They were awfully enchanted with him.

I may have forgotten to mention it, but the girls were there the whole day—watching movies, playing, talking with and entertaining all our guests. Oh, I suppose the guests entertained them too, especially Meghan with the giant muffins and donuts she brought. Also, she brought a gift for the baby—a little bouncy seat that they all put together in the living room while I was off in my room doing the actual, you know, work.

So Brice got them from wherever they were, and the pushing continued. When you take those birthing classes, they always talk about the “ring of fire”—“Oh, I felt that ring of fire, and I just wanted to die! It was the worst!” and “There will be a terrible burning sensation!” After two other births and no noticeable “ring of fire,” I was a little puzzled about what was the big deal.

And then I felt it, and my detached, clinical brain said, “Oh, so that’s what it feels like. I see. Yes, that is rather unpleasant. Hmmm . . . I wonder how long it will last.” Meanwhile, my body was saying something more like, “Egad!” And then my brain said, “Well, it’s gonna have to last through at least one more push because I am not about to shove this baby out before he’s ready and tear things up down there.” So, when the contraction stopped, I stopped pushing. I must say, I am rather pleased and proud of myself for this bit. Even in that moment I was feeling pretty cool. Look at me, I thought, just sitting here calm as you please, waiting for the next urge to push, while my nether regions are totally aflame.

It must be stated that Meghan agreed. In one of several awkward post-game wrap-ups that we had in the weeks after the fact, she said something like, “Well, this is weird, but I was really impressed with the way you pushed.” Thank you, thank you, take a bow.*

Addra told me just today, "I didn't want
to touch him because of all that white
stuff." Then I got to teach her about
how awesome vernix is.

Then he was out, sounding like a newborn (actually, I have no idea if he squealed or not), looking like a newborn with all that lovely mushroom-colored, white-goo-covered skin. And he was on my chest and I was staring at him—this amazing, beautiful creature who came out of me. I made him! He is mine. I pulled him up to me and stared and stared and stared. He was gorgeous. Gorgeous and—

Egad!

Neither of us looks particularly happy at the moment.

If you look at the pictures of us together right after he was born, I do not look pleased to see him. I’m sorry to say that I think only one of those pictures finds me with anything other than a major league grimace on my face. And I have one word to explain this: afterpains. It is such a rude awakening to be sitting there, gazing in a mommy haze of adoration at this new life, thinking it’s over. You have gained the prize. And then the contractions start again and you remember you still have to birth the placenta. And your uterus has to shrink. And there’s all the blood and whatnot to expel. And and and . . . You’re definitely not done yet.

So while I may be grimacing in these photos, I’m also drinking him in—this creature I have sacrificed and suffered for, who I will continue to change and stretch and grow for. Inside I’m utterly and infinitely in love with this little messy, gloppy, floppy creature I hold in my arms.

And in truth, I still am.

P.S. But wait! There’s more! If you still haven’t had enough, I’ve got a post-game wrap-up post coming soon. Just to answer all those exciting questions you’re wondering about, like, “What good is hydrogen peroxide?” and “Were your kids traumatized for life?” and “How do you feel about old lady panties?”**

* I love the number of conversations we have that start with, “Well, this is weird, but . . . ” That’s some serious friendship going on. 
** Just kidding, I have no opinions to offer you on old lady panties. At least not in public.