WHO HATES PEAS?

Check out Amanda's first reaction to "real" food. Apparently, the girl HATES peas. I can't blame her - I hate peas, too!

CALLING ALL COOKS

In search of a good recipe for roast potatoes. Got one?

(Sam, I'm counting on you to come through for me!!!)

THE BIRTH STORY - PART 2

For the next couple of hours, I was able to relax and enjoy the miracle of the epidural. I watched my regular afternoon television: "All My Children" and 1, "NYPD Blue" re-runs on TNT at 2, and "Law & Order" re-runs at 3 and at 4, also on TNT. Somewhere during all this relaxing, my mother arrived with my sister Eileen and Anthony's step-mother. I warned all three of them that it was still going to be quite a while, that I was only 3 1/2 cm dilated and probably had many many hours ahead of me. They insisted that they would wait.

So around 4:30PM my nurse came into my room cautiously. "Guess what?" she said, very hesitant. "They are sending me home. I feel so bad, but I really should take advantage and do some Christmas shopping."

"I understand, it's okay," I told her. Honestly, I didn't care, but everyone seemed to feel so bad that by now I had been through about 6 nurses.

My new nurse, nurse number seven, came in and introduced herself. "I promise I will be your nurse through the delivery of this baby."

"We'll see about that!" I laughed.

"I will, I promise. I'm betting we'll see this baby by 6:00PM."

6:00PM? She was nuts, I thought. Absolutely nuts. I was only 3 1/2 cm dilated, there was just no way this baby would be here that soon.

It was 5:00PM, and sort of absent-mindedly she said "Let's check your cervix, and see if you have progressed any." It was almost an afterthought.

She reached in, started feeling around, and suddenly looked puzzled.

"Um....you're fully dilated."

"WHAT?" both Anthony and I shouted at the same time. "Really?" I asked, because I truly didn't believe that it was possible.

"Yup, you're 10 cm. Time to start pushing."

Anthony and I kept looking at each other; we couldn't believe that the time was really upon us now, after everything we had been through and gone through to get to this moment, the moment was now HERE. It was so surreal.

I was amazed at how difficult the pushing was. It was not painful, although they had backed off my epidural somewhat so that I could feel the pressure of each contraction. They wanted me to know when they were hitting, so that I could push with each one. And it worked; I would be telling Anthony and the nurse "here comes another contraction" and they would glance over at the monitor to say "Yup, you're right!"

Anthony had my right leg, the nurse had my left leg, and whenever they would tell me to push they would push my knees towards my shoulders while I would bear down. Again, it didn't hurt, but it was utterly exhausting. It is funny how you will ask the most ridiculous questions at times like this. Between every contraction, I kept asking the nurse if I could sleep. Of course, she told me "No, you cannot sleep, because you need to push again in 60 seconds." But man would I try. As soon as I was done pushing, I would turn my head to the left, close my eyes, and feel myself drifting off to sleep. And then, instantly, it was time to push again. I repeated this pattern over and over and over and over again.

At one point the nurse thought it might be a good idea to have me try to push while lying on my side. She and Anthony rolled me to my left, and I heard the loudest fart EVER. "Oh my God, was that ME?" I said to Anthony, whose face was in a scowl. "Um, yeah." I had farted right in his face as he was rolling me over. Served him right, since he farts around me all the time! I reminded him that with the epidural I could not feel the entire lower half of my body, let alone have any control over anything going on "down there." But it was pretty funny, and we all had a good chuckle in the middle of my labor.

Then, I started puking. Really, really gross. I kept apologizing every time I threw up, but I was told over and over by both the nurse and by Anthony that it was okay, to stop saying "sorry."

Then, my asthma kicked in. I knew it would only be a matter of time before this happened. Anthony gave me my inhaler to use between two contractions, and from that point on I was forced to put on an oxygen mask. So it would go like this: push as hard as possible through three long, good hard breaths, oxygen mask back on, me closing my eyes DESPERATE to sleep for the one and a half minute break, and then repeat the whole cycle. At one point my doctor came in to break my water with what looked like a giant crochet hook, same as what I have in my guest room at home with all my knitting needles. Every once in a while I would glance "down" where the nurse was and see her gloved hands emerge, covered in blood, or I would see her grab a bunch of tissues and start wiping the area clean. That part puzzled me, the tissues. I'd have to ask about that later.

"Dawn, you are pushing PERFECTLY. You've got it down exactly right. I can see the head! I think she's bald, or maybe blonde." "Bald?" Anthony and I both exclaimed. We both pictured this baby with a full, thick head of dark brown hair, for some reason. It just goes to show you that knowing the gender of the baby doesn't take away all the surprises at birth.

At this point I told her that Anthony would need to come up by my head. Anthony has an incredibly weak stomach (he could barely assist me with my injections during IVF without getting queasy). We had discussed ahead of time the fact that there was no chance in hell that he'd be able to watch the labor, and I told him if he was not up to cutting the umbilical cord, it was okay with me.

But to my astonishment, he said "I have to watch!" I was so thrilled to hear this, but I also sternly warned him "don't you DARE pass out on me! I need you!" He assured me he would stay alert.

I was told to stop pushing, which was just fine by me. The contractions now were painful again since the epidural had been turned way down, but pushing had grown so exhausting I really just wanted to sleep. To not push for a few moments was music to my ears, and I kept my eyes closed and the oxygen mask on. I kept thinking through the whole pushing phase "so THIS must be what it feels like to run a marathon." I have run 10K's before, and remember the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion during the last quarter-mile. And a 10K is only 6.2 miles. I kept thinking over and over, this must be what mile 26 of the Boston Marathon must feel like.

The doctor came back in and assumed the position. Suddenly, I was very aware of what was going on, and I almost sat straight up in the bed.

"Do you NEED to do an episiotomy?" I kept hearing throughout my pregnancy about the high number of unneccessary episiotomies done in this country, and how some studies show that they aren't always the best course of action. The doctor insisted that, yes, I most definitely needed one, but not to worry, because I wouldn't feel a thing.

I rested my head back on the bed, only to bolt back upright almost immediately when I felt the "snip." Wouldn't feel it, my ass! Man, it hurt. Scissors, cutting skin in THAT area, should never EVER be felt, EVER. So far, this might have been the most painful part of the whole experience. However, in the back of my mind, I knew that meant that we were almost done. It was almost Mandy time. At which point I panicked again and wondered, what if she's a boy and every ultrasound was wrong?

I didn't have too much time to focus on this silly thought, because just like that it was time to push again. The nurse had both of my legs this time because Anthony was down by the doctor, but was still cheering me on with words of encouragement. Everyone kept saying "wow" and things like "boy, she must really want this baby out" because apparently my pushing was very controlled, very deliberate, and very correct. And they were right, that was EXACTLY where my brain was at. I wanted this over SO BADLY, I wanted to stop and to relax and rest and I wanted to be pregnant no more, and in the back of my mind I knew the best and fastest way to get what I wanted was to get this baby born, NOW. And so yes, I was determined as hell to get the pushing right and get it OVER with.

After a few moments (though it felt like an eternity), Anthony started jumping around like a crazy person. "Oh my God, I see her head! Wow! Oh my God! Her head! Her head! I see it!" He would run to my head to keep telling me this, and then would run down to the other end so as to not miss a minute. When he would look me in the eyes and shout this to me, I remember all I could think was "um yeah, that's great Anthony, but I am kind of BUSY here what with the PUSHING and all!" But he was so excited, I've never quite seen him that way.

Then, the head was out, and in a weird way I could sort of feel that it was out. It was a bizarre feeling, because I wanted to push so much, I could actually feel that pushing would get this baby out and I would be all done, but I was told in no uncertain terms that I needed to NOT push. They had to clear out the baby's mouth and nose and everything before it was time to push the rest of the body out. I remember never concentrating so hard in my life - every muscle in my body wanted to do one thing, but every part of my brain was holding my body back, knowing that pushing now would hurt the baby. I actually remember thinking that this was the first of many unselfish acts of love I would be doing for my child - sacrificing my own comfort for the sake of my child's safety.

I was told to begin pushing again, and I could actually feel the doctor turn the baby's body sideways so that the shoulders could emerge. And then, just like that, I felt the baby slide right out and I remember immediately (I mean, IMMEDIATELY) feeling wonderful. It felt like instant relief to have that baby out. My entire body was tingling, it must have been adrenaline. Instant euphoria just washed over me like a tidal wave, starting from the top of my head and rolling downward, all the way to the tips of my toes. This was not yet the euphoria of giving birth to my child - this was the pleasant feeling of having my body back, of having pregnancy be over with after 41 long weeks. I turned my head to the left, ready for that long overdue nap that I had been trying to get for the last hour and thirteen minutes. For a second, I almost forgot about the most important part of all of this. I had immediately felt such a relief and felt so much better, I nearly forgot there was another reward coming to me other than resting.

My eyes were closed, but I heard a teeny tiny little baby cry. It sounded like it was a million miles away, but it was growing closer by the minute. Brave Anthony had already cut the umbilical cord, although I completely missed that moment because I had sort of been off in my own world for a bit. Then I realized that Anthony had been shouting for the past minute, but I was unaware of it until the volume was slowly turned up. I was re-emerging into reality. "Oh my God, she is so beautiful Dawn, she is awesome! Oh my God!"

Just like that, I realized what had just happened. I just had my miracle baby. She was here. And I needed to see her, NOW.

"Can I see her? Can I see her? Please?"

Keeping in mind that it had only been seconds since I had given birth, once I sort of came-to and realized that Amanda was born, every millisecond that went by without me seeing her may as well have been a year.

The nurse finally lifted her tiny, blanket-wrapped body into the air so that I could catch my first glimpse. I exclaimed "oh my GOD!" and immediately started crying tears of immense joy. The "oh my GOD!" was for three things: 1) she looked NOTHING AT ALL like what I pictured she would look like, so I was genuinely startled, 2) she was gorgeous, which is the last thing I expected due to the fact that she LITERALLY had just been born and all newborns are a little funny looking at first, and 3) she was finally here, not after nine months, but after 3 1/2 years of heartache and heartbreak; against all odds, my baby was here.

They placed her on my chest, in my arms, and I just cried and cried and cried. I talked to her a mile a minute about everything. "Do you know how long I have waited for you? Do you know how much I have been dying to meet you? Do you know how pretty you are? Do you know what a MIRACLE you are? Do you know how many people are out in the waiting room dying to meet you too? Do you know how sick you made mommy while you lived in her belly? Do you see how much your Daddy loves you already?" And on and on and on. And it was so cool how the minute they gave her to me, she stopped crying and just stared at me intensely with big wide-awake eyes. I stopped talking for a minute and looked at those beautiful eyes that were fixated on me. "I love you, too," I whispered.



Just in case this post is a little too sappy to take, let me wrap up with this. About four hours later, when it was just me, Anthony and Amanda chilling out in our post-partum hospital room, I had to ask Anthony the question that had been killing me. I was thinking back to the nurse with the tissues.

"Anthony," I asked, very seriously. "I have to know. The nurse had those tissues....did I shit on the delivery table?"

He smiled. "Oh, yes you did. A lot." He started cracking up.

This is one of those labor & delivery nightmares that you dread. I was terrified, going into labor, that this might happen. I prayed that it would not. And it had happened, and apparently it was really bad.

"You know I had no control down there with the epidural, you know it, right?" I asked Anthony. He kissed my forehead and said "of course I know it. Don't even worry about it! It happens."

And the truth was, I didn't even care. All I could do was look at Amanda with complete amazement. Who cares whether I pooped during labor or not? Or farted in Anthony's face? Who cares. None of that stupid stuff mattered anymore at all. Just like that, things that I thought I cared about before were inconsequential.


Because, I finally had a baby. And that was all that mattered in the world.