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Saturday, April 25, 2020

A TALE OF TWO BIRTHS

          It’s funny how things happen. Yesterday’s post had to do with AJ’s birth, but there’s quite a bit I left out which really didn’t have much to do with AJ or me. I’m going to include it here

          At the Primate Center, I worked on the fourth floor. Another secretary was hired for the third floor and her name was Paula as well. They referred to her as Little Paula and I was Big Paula…she was shorter than me.

          Little Paula got pregnant about a month before I did. There was a huge difference between how the two of us prepared for childbirth. The majority of the other women at the primate Center were older and had already had children. Once we informed them of our pregnancies, coffee breaks and lunch topics became all about childbirth.

          Every single one of those older women had tales to tell about themselves, relatives, acquaintances, whoever that had horrible experiences in childbirth.

          “Oh, I remember cousin Emma. She was in labor for three days.”

          “I remember my mother when she had my little brother. She labored for days without any medication.”

          "Poor Sue. Her baby was so big. She was so torn up and could hardly sit or walk for weeks."

          They just went on and on and on and on. When this would begin, I’d make an excuse and get up and leave. I think I eventually stopped going to coffee. I didn’t need to hear their horror stories. When I had my child, I’d have my own story and it would not be a horrible one. I was going to think positive. I knew by doing that, I’d be just fine. For all of my life, I have never ever shared a childbirth horror story (and I do have one) with a pregnant woman. They don’t need to hear that shit.

          Anyway, both Little Paula and I breezed through our pregnancies. I believe she left a couple of weeks before I did because she was due way before me. So, imagine my surprise when they put me into the labor room and finished asking me questions to hear this little voice say, “Paula is that you?” Little Paula and Big Paula were sharing a labor room.

          You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. Surely, she’d already had her baby. When we got a chance to talk, I found out that she’d been in and out of the hospital for the last couple of weeks, maybe more. She was so tired and angry that her baby had yet to appear. She’d come in, be in labor, it would hurt, they’d give her medication, the labor would stop and they’d send her home.

          That day, it was pretty much the same thing. Whenever it began to hurt, they’d give her medication and the contractions would slow. AJ was born at 2:43 pm, plus there were five other babies born before AJ. In fact, her intern showed up in my delivery room while I was holding AJ and waiting to be taken out. He rather snottily thanked me for having my baby. When I was taken out of the labor room, Little Paula lost it completely…like it was my fault.

          I didn’t have any medication until they got me in the delivery room. There they rolled me onto my side and put a needle in my back. I could have shot them for that. It was on the orders so I had to have it. At that point, I had two pushing contractions to go. I could have done without, especially since I wasn’t allowed to sit up for six hours after. Can you picture me lying flat in bed, starving, and being given food? I somehow managed to shove it into my mouth without making too big a mess; and boy, it was the best chicken and rice I’ve ever had. When I had my second child, I made it crystal clear…unless I request it, no medication.

          Later that evening, Little Paula and I went to the nursery to look at our babies. She told me then, “This was the absolute worst experience of my life. I’m never ever doing it again.” I don’t know if she ever did.

          So, I guess the significance of this story is to encourage people to keep horror stories to themselves unless writing a fictional horror story. Or, if someone absolutely has to share their, or that of someone they know, experience with you that’s absolutely beastly, walk away. 


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