The Girl arrived early -- November 6, 2006, and weighed 8 pounds, 3 ounces. She measured in at 22 inches as well. Considering I'm all of 62 inches tall myself, it's no great shock to me that she undershot her due date by more than a week. I mean, she just had no room to move! She came in a hurry, too. My water broke at midnight, and she was squalling at 3:06 a.m.
Did I mention that the labor was au naturel? Oh, I wanted an epidural. I'm a big fan of the conveniences of modern medicine, especially those that considerably reduce pain. But, a rapidly progressing labor + lack of information about my body chemistry on file + middle of the night = not administering the epidural in time and having to skip it.
Oh, the sadness I felt when I heard that it was too late for an epidural. Maybe I'm a wuss, but I'd been telling myself that I could hang on through the pain until the anesthesiologist pumped me full of numbing goodness. And then they said it was a no-go, and that I'd get to go through labor like all of womankind before me. Joy. Once again, I question how the human race has made it this far considering THAT is what women have had to endure to bring forth new life. Yikes.
One of my sisters-in-law said that she doesn't really remember the pain. I remember the pain. Oh, how I remember the pain. How can you not remember the pain of passing a 13 inch head through an almost 4 inch (10 centimeter) opening? How are you not reminded of the pain during those first few weeks of recovery, when a simple trip to the powder room involves multiple implements, salves, and absorbant materials?
But, looking at my little daughter bundled up and snoozing just a few feet away from me, and I know it was worth it, and that I'd do it all over again.
Did I mention that the labor was au naturel? Oh, I wanted an epidural. I'm a big fan of the conveniences of modern medicine, especially those that considerably reduce pain. But, a rapidly progressing labor + lack of information about my body chemistry on file + middle of the night = not administering the epidural in time and having to skip it.
Oh, the sadness I felt when I heard that it was too late for an epidural. Maybe I'm a wuss, but I'd been telling myself that I could hang on through the pain until the anesthesiologist pumped me full of numbing goodness. And then they said it was a no-go, and that I'd get to go through labor like all of womankind before me. Joy. Once again, I question how the human race has made it this far considering THAT is what women have had to endure to bring forth new life. Yikes.
One of my sisters-in-law said that she doesn't really remember the pain. I remember the pain. Oh, how I remember the pain. How can you not remember the pain of passing a 13 inch head through an almost 4 inch (10 centimeter) opening? How are you not reminded of the pain during those first few weeks of recovery, when a simple trip to the powder room involves multiple implements, salves, and absorbant materials?
But, looking at my little daughter bundled up and snoozing just a few feet away from me, and I know it was worth it, and that I'd do it all over again.
