Hold the Epidural
This is a story about drugs, or rather the lack of them.
I know exactly what I was doing 24 years ago today. It could have required drugs, but it didn't.
I was pregnant with our first child. Barry had a job in Boston and we were commuting.
Imagine that, a commuter pregnancy, way before it was fashionable.
I had just moved to Boston, taking maternity leave from WXYZ-TV in Detroit.
I had only met our ob-gyn once. Barry had dutifully interviewed dozens of doctors in my absence. Our appointment was to be the first in our weekly series. Barry and I had taken the subway, the "T," from our apartment on Beacon Hill. Even though I was new to this pregnancy thing, I was fairly confident, as I sat in the waiting room of my new doctor's office, that my water had broken.
It's a very interesting way to meet your doctor, the one who was going to deliver your first child.
In retrospect, Alex's unceremonious arrival was more excitement than a doctor's office usually has. It certainly was more fun. The doctor came rushing in with an expression like, "I know I recognize you but I'm really not sure how."
The baby was going to be three weeks early. We hadn't shopped for furniture and hadn't taken any Lamaze classes. We dispatched a single friend for furniture, who really had no more idea than we did. We told the natural childbirth coach we had hired to get us up to speed, she may as well forget it. By the time I got to Brigham and Womens Hospital, I was sure I could do this without drugs.
I might have been sure, but the nurses were
amazed. This is a big maternity hospital in Boston. They've seen everything.
Several nurses came to meet me.
"Hey, there's a woman in 308 who doesn't want drugs!"
I'm sorry I don't remember my nurse's name. She was caring, sensitive and extremely knowledgeable about the psychology of pain. She told me learning natural childbirth was easy. I believed her.
I remember about four things really well from that day, May 12. My doctor breezed in from the golf course, white pants and all, looking absolutely uncreased. Just like in the movies, he was extremely handsome.
I remember how great the nurse was. And I do I remember the pain. It was something. It IS like pulling your lip over your head and keeping it there, or those other metaphors about childbirth. It was something. Any expectant mom out there who is thinking about it, think again. It REALLY hurt. REALLY. But it's not what I remember most.
What I remember as if it were yesterday was Barry tearing up when our healthy boy finally arrived. (He's the one who was crying, yet I'm the one with all that pain.) It really hurt, did I mention that? But I really knew I could do it. I just knew.
Some 24 years later, Alex is still very much worth all that pain. He's in California, living his adventure, having a great time at his job. I talked to him today and reminded him about all I remembered from that hot spring day in Boston and how I didn't take any drugs.
"I think I've heard that before," he said, kind of eager to get off the phone. It's okay. Only one of us really needed to go down memory lane this morning.
But in the spirit of full disclosure, I wasn't even through the doors of the hospital in 1990, when his little brother was about to be born, when I told the nurses I needed an epidural. Now.
