Twinkle, Twinkle, What Just Happened?!

Preparing for birth is such a happy, innocent time. You set up the nursery, stack a million onesies, and sanitize bottles you’ll probably lose. Then there are the must-have gadgets, like the Diaper Genie we got for our first son. My husband thought it was the coolest thing ever and kept wrapping clean diapers just to watch it work. I had to remind him that they cost money and that the fun would wear off fast once real poop was involved.

Still, none of that prepares you for actual labor. While folding tiny socks, nobody ever stops to ask when you realized your natural birth plan was a terrible idea, if you accidentally summoned a demon while yelling at your nurse, or how long you spent praying you wouldn't give birth in a hospital toilet. You might want to bring those up at the next baby shower, because I have a story for you.

My second son turns a year older tomorrow, which always brings back the chaotic memory of his arrival on Monday, August 9, 1999. Because of a high-risk pregnancy, I was scheduled to be induced, a routine I already knew well from my first child.  

I packed an overnight bag full of "necessary" toiletries that I never even touched. Take it from me: a nightgown, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, change of clothes, and extra deodorant are all you really need. My son’s bag was even worse. Thanks to reading way too many parenting magazines, I packed about 8 separate outfits: one for pictures, one for going home, and 6 more for reasons I still can't explain.

I was anxious, excited, and thoroughly ready to be done. I had gained a lot of weight and felt absolutely ginormous. When my nurse came in to orient me to the room, she gave a very specific tour of the bathroom, pointing directly at the big red emergency button. "Only push this in an extreme emergency," she warned. I actually thought to myself, An emergency? What could go wrong in the bathroom during delivery? I'm going to be in bed.

Once I was settled in bed, I was hooked up to an IV and given Pitocin. Because I had an epidural with my first baby and felt practically nothing, I decided I was going to go completely natural this time, a thought that quickly made me question my sanity. Still, I tried to stay positive, especially when I heard this music coming from the PA system. The nurse explained that every time a baby was born at Cape Coral Hospital, the PA system played "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." I figured if millions of women could do this, so could I. 

Shortly after, the doctor arrived to break my water. As a kid, I naively thought a woman's water breaking was just an internal balloon popping. Within minutes of the breaking of my “internal balloon”, the contractions intensified, and a cervical check showed I was at 5 centimeters. An hour in, and I was already wondering how much longer this was going to take.

My husband, being my husband, was in and out of the room. He was so stressed by my labor that he had to make emergency trips to the hospital cafeteria for comfort food and drinks, you know, to fuel up for all the moral support he was offering from the corner of the room. If moral support could be measured in cans of Diet Pepsi, he would have won Husband of the Year. But he was there, especially when I truly needed him to be there. I needed someone to scream at and blame, he took it like a trooper.

To help things move along, the nurse suggested I leave the comfort of my bed and try the rocking chair. I hesitated, convinced the baby was ready to pop out, but she assured me there was plenty of time. The moment I stood up, I felt a massive drop in my stomach. She insisted everything was fine, so I trusted her judgment and sat down. As the contractions hit harder and faster, I began rocking frantically. Unluckily for everyone on the floor, I had been assigned the squeakiest rocking chair in existence. The rhythmic squeak-squeak-squeak echoed down the hallway while I was in pain, thoroughly embarrassed but too uncomfortable to care.

After what felt like hours of non-stop squeaking, I abandoned my natural birth plan entirely. "Bring me an epidural NOW!" I demanded. When the nurse asked if I was sure, I channeled my best Exorcist voice to confirm that I was 100% positive. She told me to use the restroom first while she called the anesthesiologist. Standing up triggered another huge drop. "The baby is coming!" I insisted. Once again, the nurse reassured me it was too soon.

I waddled to the restroom at a sloth's pace with my legs pressed together. Sitting down on the ridiculously high toilet seat, sheer panic set in. I screamed for my mom, "The baby is coming!" She rushed in just as I felt his head, but I also desperately needed to have a bowel movement. Terrified I was about to drop my newborn directly into the toilet bowl, I held back pushing until I heard a sudden- plop!. I froze, I couldn’t look, I was thinking to myself, oh no, my baby's in the toilet . My mom hurried and checked, thankfully, it was just the bowel movement.

With that, the nurse walked in, took one look, and casually said, "Oh, his head is right there!"

Duh! You think I was screaming like this for fun?!

Without another word, she lunged for the big red emergency button she had forbidden me from touching. Within seconds, an army of nurses flooded the tiny bathroom, hoisted all 271 pounds of me into the air, and hauled me back to the bed.

From that point on, everything turned into a fast-forward action movie. Pain rushed through me, no chance of an epidural now. Nurses were running around opening supply bags, and parts of my bed were literally disappearing. Between my screams, I kept yelling, "Where is my doctor?!" The nurses kept reassuring me that the doctor was on the way. They didn’t expect me to deliver so quickly. I couldn’t wait any longer, I needed to push and at that point, I didn't care who caught him, he was coming out whether they were ready or not.

When the doctor finally walked in, she casually asked how I was doing, like we were meeting for coffee. "Oh, doing great! Just about to have a baby, how are you?!" I yelled back.

She said "push," and with one single push, out he came. 7 pounds, 14 ounces, a healthy baby boy! Hearing his cry was the best sound in the world. Then I looked at the clock: 12:01 PM.  

Wait. Active labor had only started at 10:30 AM. That was only an hour and a half!

Before I could even wrap my head around what just happened, "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" played over the speakers. All the nurses kept saying, "Wow, what a great birth, that was so fast, it could be a hospital record!" Meanwhile, I was sitting there thinking, Seriously? Were we in the same room, or did you guys hallucinate a different birth?! 

Consider this a fair warning to any woman getting ready to give birth, ask those hard questions at the next baby shower, because labor will test every single one of your expectations. Mine certainly did, though not in the way I expected.

Overall, I didn't realize what a blessing that quick delivery was back then, until six years later when my daughter’s birth took 15 long, painful hours. But that's a story for next time!

-Jackie

This was written with my son's permission