This past Monday, we celebrated TJ's 9th birthday. It is amazing how fast times flies. It seemed like yesterday, I was seeing my obstetrician and a high risk doctor and beyond ready to deliver my baby. You see, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and can I just tell you that is the worse thing to have when you are pregnant. Of course, there are worse things that can happen when you are pregnant but my point is that when you are pregnant, you want to eat whatever you want. When you have gestational diabetes, you have to watch everything that you eat and on top of that I had to take insulin, as well.
The Whack Job Doctor
When I was about 2 weeks to my delivery date, my dumb ass high risk doctor gets the bright idea to want to do an amniocentesis to make sure that my son's heart was developed. HUH? 2 weeks before I am due? Really? So, they give me these forms to fill out and all I see is "may cause death." "This doctor must be crazy! Who in the hell does an amniocentesis so late in a pregnancy," was all that I kept thinking. I walk over to the desk and tell the receptionist that there is no way in HELL that I am signing these papers or having an amniocentesis at 36 weeks!! "And oh, by the way," I said as I was walking out, "You can cancel my appointment for next week because it will be a cold day in hell before I let that whack job of a doctor touch me again!"
I walked away thinking that even if my son's heart wasn't developed, here we are 2 weeks before he is supposed to come. If I went into labor, there is not much that we can do to keep him in at 36 weeks, I turned it over to God and kept on moving.
The next week I went to see my obstetrician and I informed him about what the high risk doctor wanted to do. He thought that I was joking. I quickly let him know that this was not a joke and that I was not going to see Dr. Whack Job again and further more, I was tired of being pregnant and I was ready to have this baby. Now here's the problem. Memorial Day was coming and I was very adamant about not having my baby on or around Memorial Day. He wanted me to come in on Memorial Day. There was no way that I was going to do that! How would anyone be able to come to his parties because most people will be celebrating with their families. That would be an awful time to have a birthday, so, it was decided that if he did not come before, I would be induced a week after Memorial Day and that's how it all went down.
If you have been reading my blog, then you will know that I have been a Single Mom from day one. When I went into the hospital to be induced, my brother went with me. My doctor told me that the process would be a long one, so I figured, I didn't need a lot of people around me all day and my brother kept me company until my mom came later.
Now, if you have never be induced, let me tell you that you are hungry as hell! You can not eat after midnight the day before and all day while I was waiting for something to happen, I could only eat ice and jello. That was the worse!
My brother and I are sitting around talking all day and every now and then our conversation would be interrupted by a woman screaming in labor. "Damn! Would these heifers shut the hell up!!" Truth be told, it wasn't the noise of these women screaming in agony that was bothering me, it was the fear that those screams invoked in me that was bothering me. I was silently praying every time that I heard those screams that I would not be that woman when it was my turn to give birth.
So the day when on and nothing happened. By 8 o'clock, my mother and brother had changed shifts and my mom was sitting in the corner with her Bible and my copy of "What to Expect When Your Expecting" reading through the chapter about labor. My doctor finally comes in and checks me and tells me that I had barely dilated and he broke my water. He said that they would start Pitocin to start my contractions and if I was not ready by the time he came back in the morning, they would have to do a C-Section. "A C-Section? You want me to have contractions ALL night and then do a C-Section? You have got to be out of your damn mind!!" My doctor said that he was leaving for the evening and the nurse went about the task of starting my IV with the Pitocin.
About 30 minutes went by and my mom is reading what the next step is supposed to be in this labor process and all of a sudden I feel like someone took a Louisville Slugger Baseball Bat, wound it up and hit me in the stomach. In an instant, I became that woman that I was complaining about all day but instead of a scream, I let out a, "OH SHITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!" My mom immediately told me to watch my mouth and my response was, "FUCK THAT SHIT! THIS SHIT HURTS!!" I guess at that point, all gloves were off because all I can remember is a slew of curse words spewing out of my mouth.
By now I guess it's about 10 o'clock or so and I'm trying my best to deal with the pain. After what seemed like forever but was actually about 45 minutes or so, I asked the nurse could I get any drugs. Her response was that I had to be dilated at least 2 inches and I couldn't be that far along yet. I asked her could she at least check but she was so insistent that I couldn't be dilated 2 yet that I screamed, "Can you just fucking look?" My mom gives me one of those looks, but today is not the day to be nice and polite. Not when my stomach felt like someone was trying to rip out my guts. I guess the nurse got the picture and checked me. "Oh my goodness, you are at 2," she said from down there. I wanted to take my foot and put it on her forehead and push her away! "I know dumb ass," is what I was thinking but was relieved to know that she was gonna get me some drugs.
Now by this time, I am absolutely starving and I am so over these contractions. The nurse added whatever drug for pain to my IV but no sooner had she done that, I shouted, "I HAVE TO PUSH!!" Now my mom is quickly turning the pages in the book and shouts, "You aren't supposed to be at that stage yet. You skipped something!" I am looking at her like, "If you don't put that damn book down!" The know-it-all-nurse is saying, "You can't have to push, you were just at 2!" I am screaming that I need to push NOW!! The nurse checks me and she looks up with this surprised look on her face and says that I am ready but I need to wait for the doctor. I yell, "FUCK THAT DOCTOR! SOMEBODY IN HERE KNOWS HOW TO DELIVER A BABYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!"
My mom is packing up her stuff like she is going somewhere and the nurse asks her where she is going. "To the delivery room," my mom responds and the nurse says to her, "We ARE in the delivery room."
Within seconds, it was like the changing of a scene in a play. Nurses rushed in, the bed did some type of conversion, spotlights pointed down there were put in place and my doctor, who we thought was gone for the evening came rushing in. I don't remember hearing him say, "Push!" All I know is that I pushed two times and my son was born!
Now some mothers want their slimy new baby to be put on their chest and all that nasty shit...NOT ME! They held him up so that I could see him and then they went about the business of cleaning him up before they put him in my arms. Thank you Jesus! I am glad that I didn't have that awkward conversation of them washing him off first.
Now TJ was finally here. Everyone is happy and I am so sure that my nurse was probably the happiest that I had the baby. I wonder if she knew that she would be verbally assaulted when she became a pediatric nurse? I made sure that I apologized to her for my potty mouth and she responded that she had heard worse! Whew, I can only imagine what that must have been like because I thought that I was pretty bad.
By now it is after midnight and I had not had any real food for 24 hours. Once I got settled into my room, my nurse came in with the best cheeseburger and fries that I had ever had in my life. I am not sure where she got it from at that time of night, but she was my best friend at that point.
That night, I don't think that I got much sleep thanks to Mr. TJ! I thought that they kept the babies in the nursery. When I asked about that, the nurse told me that the babies are kept in the rooms with their mothers. DAMN! So much for getting a little rest! That night I remember staring at my son and wondering what his life would be like? What OUR life would be like? What was his personality going to be like? What kind of person would he be? What his voice would sound like when he started talking, etc. etc?
Fast forward nine years and I amazed every day by this little boy. He is so talented and intelligent. He believes in God and has so many questions about him and the Bible that I think that one day he may become a preacher. He makes friends EVERYWHERE we go where there are kids. His opening line is, "Hi, my name is TJ. Do you want to be friends?" How can you not love a kid like that?
He keeps me laughing and the way that his mind works astonishes me. One day we were passing a cemetery and he asks, "When you are buried, do you have clothes on?" I responded , "Yes, they put ladies in a nice dress or men in a nice suit." He said, "Then how can you rest in peace if you aren't wearing pajamas?" I was laughing so hard that I was crying. "You know that is a very good question. I don't know how you can rest in peace without comfy pajamas on."
It is times like this that I know that I am blessed to be the mother of such an amazing kid and although I had gestational diabetes, a whack job doctor and I have had to take this journey of parenthood all alone, I wouldn't change a thing because at the end, I got the best prize of all...TJ!