For the record, I didn’t know anything about dilating, effacing, water breaking or when to push and when to not push. I didn’t know anything about pre-term labor. What I did know, was that Harriett had started to discuss those things with me but I completely blew her off regarding each of the topics. Another thing I knew, was I had a nursery waiting on me at home that was unfinished. The curtains still laid in the floor and all the furniture had been moved to the middle of the room because a painter was due to come paint in early May. Our home was not ready for the baby but my body had other plans.
My water broke at 3:13 that afternoon, exactly a half hour after Winnie had arrived. Veronica had to tell what the hell that meant as if the fluid and stale blood I had soiled the sheets with wasn’t enough of an explanation. I was far more relaxed that afternoon than I had been in the morning. It was so wonderful to have Winnie and Veronica there to hold my hands, to talk and laugh with me, and at least partially distract me from the fact that underneath it all I was still nervous. My parents had a six hour trip from Scotland and so they hadn’t yet arrived. My contractions became consistent by 4:30. They had become so intense that I could no longer talk through them. Instead, I held on to Veronica and Winnie…and swore.
I was in the middle of one of my intense, numbing contractions when my mother and father appeared in my private room. My parents, being the kind of people they were, let me ride it out before making their appearance known. “We’re here! We’re here sweetheart.” My mum said, trading places with Winnie. She took my hand in hers.
“Mum! Aww, you look so pretty.” I told her, wiping sweat from my forehead.
“Thank you sweetheart.” She said, kissing the top of my head.
“How are you doin’ sweetheart?” My dad knelt down beside my bed and put his hand on my stomach. I shook my head. I could hold it together with my mum but not with dad.
“I don’t know.” I said, tearing up.
“No, no, no, Lydia. Don’t you do that. Don’t you cry. You’re gonna’ be okay.” My dad petted my head. I smiled and shook my head in agreement.
“I’m glad you’re here.” I told them both sincerely.
“Excuse me there! Time for some pain medication, Lydia.” A kindly nurse said, coming into my room. My parents quickly moved away from me so the nurse could infuse my now re-attached IV drip with pain killers. Because Harriett and I had never discussed birthing options for me and because I was pre-term, the nursing staff suggested an epidural to be risky. That meant, I was going to have this baby without any strong medications or nerve block. Fuck. I was allowed anything mild in my IV but nothing that would actually make labor bearable. “How close together are your contractions?” the nurse asked me. Hell, I didn’t know! I just knew they made me want to kill myself. I looked to Winnie and Veronica.
“Um…probably about five or ten minutes apart wouldn’t you say?” Winnie asked looking to Veronica who agreed with her. “I’m going to call for the doctor to come see how many centimeters you’re dilated. I’m sure you’re close to going to delivery.” She said before leaving the room.
“Where’s Roger?” my mum asked digging in her purse for a cigarette. “I don’t know. Probably in the air somewhere. He’ll be here. Mum! You can’t smoke in here!” I reminded her before she lit her cigarette.
“Oh, oh yes. I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” No sooner did mum get her words out, I began to have another contraction. It was miserable and I clenched down on the sheets as hard as I could. Immediately, Veronica coached me through it. One thing was certain, nurturing came so naturally to her. She just jumped in and did it. I think even my mum was impressed by how truly caring and genuinely involved in my labor she was. Veronica was one of those people that truly had become my best friend…and nothing had ever faltered it. My mother asked her about her own pregnancy and about the boys after she had gotten me through my next horrible contraction. Even though I needed my mum here with me, it was for reasons other than what most mums would provide. I knew my mum wouldn’t be the kind of mum encouraging me to push or telling me ‘you can do it’. My mum was far more brutally honest than that. She provided relief such as telling me the truth about how terrible I looked in the hospital gown or reminding me that she and I could be having a cocktail. I loved her for those things.
