The Birth of Elizabeth Lynn Phelps

Prelude

I woke up Wednesday April 30th around 4:30 a.m. and couldn’t sleep, so of course I watched an episode of “The Office.” Back to bed at 5:30, and spooning Ryan, I tried to go back to sleep. At 6:15 a.m. I felt a pop in my pelvis. A pop like when you bite into a vein in a chicken leg. I know, gross. I laid there for a few minutes, thinking, “Oh my God, this is it! Well, maybe.” Then I got up and went to the bathroom. It was there, I saw it, a silver-dollar size drop of water. I wasn’t expecting a gush of water, but at least a trickle. What’s up with a drop? This led to many questions: Did my water break or did I just pee myself…again? Should I wake Ryan up or take a shower? Do I really have to shave my legs?

Act I: The Rejection

Back in bed again, my contractions started at 7:30 a.m. I woke up Ryan and told him “Thunder Cats Are Go!” So I sat in bed and let my contractions flow until 10:00 a.m. We called the hospital and hit the road at 10:30 Wednesday morning. Once at the hospital, I had a non-stress test and the doctor checked to see if my water did in fact break. The doctor declared that my water did not break and sent me home. Suck. Instead of going home, Ryan, Judy (Ryan’s mother), Carol (my mother), Nancy (Ryan’s grandmother) and I (the baby-mama) went to Newburyport, MA and had lunch at The Blue Whale. Ryan’s grandmother hit on our waiter hoping for a free drink. We walked around Newburyport and Ryan bought a board book called, “Olivia.” It’s a very modern book and one character, a male piglet, is dressed in drag. Good job daddy.

Act II: Second Chance

I started to feel more pain with each contraction so Ryan, Carol, and I went home. During our afternoon out we were also timing my contractions. They varied anywhere from 8-26 min. Once home I began “laboring at home” without any drugs, thanks doc. My contractions progressively got worse—big surprise—and again I thought my water had finally broken when I had a dollar fifty worth of fluid in my underpants. We called the doctor again at midnight and were back at the hospital by 1:30 a.m. Thursday morning.

The doctor checked and declared that yes, indeed my water had broken! I was given a shot of Demurral and we slept at the hospital from 3:00 a.m. until 6:30 a.m. At that time, I was given another test to confirm the lack of a bag of water. That test came back negative for breakage. Double suck. We were sent home with a prescription of Demurral and told not to come back until my water broke and/or my contractions were consistently five minutes apart for an hour. Both times we were sent home the doctor left us with the phrase “laboring at home is so much better than at the hospital.” Yeah, not when your house is full of neurotic relatives who think videotaping your contractions is a good idea.

Act III: Laboring At Home

I went home and slept until 10:30 a.m. on Thursday morning. Let me define sleep for you: eyes closed and in a state of almost sleep until you are jolted awake by gripping abdominal pain every 10-15 minutes. At 10:30 a.m. I took a demurral pill which did absolutely nothing to help with pain. Then active labor set in. I was in terrible pain with each contraction. The unfortunate thing was that my contractions were very sporadic. They went from five minutes to 15 back down to eight and then even a few at 20 minutes. I was also nervous about going back to the hospital until Niagara Falls floweth from my nethers. With all that in mind, I had the beautiful experience of “laboring at home” until 3:00 p.m., Thursday afternoon. Then I delivered the baby alone in my bathtub.

Just kidding.

Act IV: I Told You So

At this point I desperately wanted to go to the hospital, but feared that I would be turned away again. I called the nurse and started crying. Ryan picked up the phone and the nurse said to come on in. In the car by 3:30 p.m., my contractions finally stabilized at 4-5 min apart. Once at the birth center I was confirmed to be three centimeters dilated and asked if I wanted an epidural. This being the 34^th hour of labor I enthusiastically cried, “Yes you MO-FO, give me the spinal tap!” Oh wait, that’s a movie. Good movie though.

It took an hour and a half to get the epidural, and in that time I dilated to six centimeters and the doctor decided to break my water. While scraping at my innards with her crochet hook, the doctor couldn’t find the membrane and instead found a head full of hair. Yes, the baby had hair. Six o’clock came around and with it a new doctor. This doctor also tried to break my water and she too couldn’t find the membrane, but did confirm the hairy head. Hmm, no membrane. Let me translate that for you. My water was broken from the beginning; nothing came out because the baby’s head was plugging the exit! Medical school, over-rated.

Act V: A Mind of Her Own

At six centimeter dilated we thought the baby would surely come by midnight. Nope. At midnight I was nine centimeters dilated. Our family was in the waiting room stocking anyone who looked official. They were about to go home at this point, but when they heard how close I was they decided to stay. Five hours later, still no baby. But wait, at 5 a.m. Friday morning I felt “pressure.” Blessed pressure, it was now time to push. Ten centimeters achieved, target locked and ready to rock. So in the dark early morning, Ryan holding one leg and the nurse the other, I began pushing. Note, I couldn’t feel the lower half of my body so I was just pretending to push to make the nurse happy.

Act VI: Conclusion

During this time, Elizabeth’s head was coming into view, for those who were near the view at least. The nurse asked if I wanted to touch the baby’s head, a prospect I had previously considered and dismissed as strange and only for hippies. At that moment I became a hippy. I yelled, “Yes, I want to touch the head!” So I did. Then she asked, “Do you want me to get a mirror so you can see her?” Again, a prospect considered and dismissed because seriously who wants to see their own junk? But my junk was soon of great interest to me and I screamed, “Yes, bring the mirror!”

Then I saw the most amazing thing. My baby! And she had hair! I began pushing like I saw the women doing on the Miracle of Life video I showed my science classes the week before. At 7:08 a.m. Friday May 2, 2008 my baby was born, wide-eyed and screaming. As they brought her to my chest I looked at her face and understood why God puts up with all of us.