Birth Control

I asked my gorgeous baby sister, Aunt D, if she'd write about the Babynater's birth from her perspective. We've done a lot of crazy, fun, scary, sometimes not-so-wise things together and we're the best kind of sisters, the kind that are best friends too.


Thinking about it though, even now in our thirties, I'm the older sister, usually in control, perhaps a bit bossy. (She's rolling her eyes at that 'perhaps.') It was strange to have her by my side and be so vulnerable. Strange and wonderful, she was fantastic. If I were to have another baby (no, not happening), I'd ask her, no I'd beg her, to be by my side.

Here's her view of Nate's arrival, in her own hilarious words.
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My evil plan worked! I successfully delayed Stacey’s labor for over two weeks! Fear not; karma’s a beast and I’m sure I’ll get mine. I’m not the obvious candidate for birth-watcher-person having never given birth nor seen it. I vaguely recall horrifying sixth grade videos, but I’ve suppressed most of late elementary school through high school graduation. (I had an extensive awkward period.) Having been invited to the party, there was no WAY I was going to miss it.

My plane landed on reindeer strewn tundra at 9:30 on Saturday night and less than 10 hours later Stacey and I were in a tiny examination room watching little contraction mountains float across the screen. She was wearing lots of suction cups and no pants and trying to explain effacement to me between contractions.

The next four hours were not the screaming, sweaty endurance race I expected. We just hung out in the sunny, lovely hospital room eating egg mcmuffins and chatting. It was like Stacey, Matt, Elise, Doula Bobbette and I had picked a really weird place for a breakfast date. We talked; Stacey occasionally contracted, making no noise and causing no interruption to the conversation.

She walked around for a while and Bobbette rubbed her ankle to make the contractions stronger. (Right. Unclear on this one. Anyone else not buying the ankle bone contraction causal structure?) Bobbette pulled on a toe and made Stacey wag her tail, hop on one foot, left foot green, etc. She was either screwing with us or the doula school is friendly with the pharmacy club if you know what I mean. Whatever it was worked. Stacey was at 8 cm when her midwife, Sara, arrived.

Time to break her water!

I’m a bit unclear on this part. I remember thinking Sara had on really big earrings and that I likely wouldn’t have chosen them to wear to a birth. I remember the “sack was really thick” ‘cause…ew and also hehe sack. Then suddenly she was pushing and I was somewhere between Elise and Matt on Stacey’s left. If I leaned forward I could see birthing; if not, I could just see Stacey’s leg and lots of arms.

It seemed painful (professional opinion). She yelled and got really sweaty and everyone was touching her. I had a full conversation with myself about whether I should be touching her too.

Me: She’s in pain. Let her know you’re here.

Me: She’s so sweaty and there are lots of hands. I hate being touched when I’m sweaty. Let her breathe.

Me: She’s screaming. Hold her haHOLYSHITISTHATTHEBABY’SHEAD?!

Wow, that shit is cool. A BABY was being born RIGHT THERE! Amazing. And, yet, so poorly designed. Seriously, HP? That’s the best you could come up with? Was there a committee involved?

Stacey: “It’s stuck! It’s not moving!”

The room: “No! It’s coming! You’re doing great! GoooOOOO STACEY!!”

Stacey, in this low, throaty, terror movie voice: “EEETZZSTUUUUUCK…”

So baby is sticking out to the neck and not advancing, and Sara shoves her WHOLE HAND in there and turns the head with the other hand. It seriously looked like the head would pop off. Stacey made a noise that I can still hear - like a werewolf being eaten by a pterodactyl - horrifying and mesmerizing and slimy and still cool.

And then there was Nate - gray and silent. The floor disappeared and it was sit down or fall down time for me. In the movies, babies cry right away…there’s no gray moment/hour of heart stopping silence. I was wholly unprepared. But, then he moved, and he made a little sound, and the world turned back on from the baby out to the walls.

The whole day was crazy and I’m so glad that I made it in time to “help." There was the afternoon ordeal, but that’s kind of glossed over now – and it’s not really part of the birth anyway (although it does contribute to the birth control!).

My husband is happy that I’ve had my baby fix for a while and that we can stick with just the dog for now. But really, what does he know? When I told him that Cue called the baby Dat New One he thought I meant Dat Nguyen from the Cowboys. Umm, wha? The man needs to babysit.