Get Real: First-time motherhood revisited

Twenty-nine years ago today, I became a Mom for the first time. We were living in Ingersoll and had to go to Woodstock General Hospital, about 10 minutes away.

After 22 hours of labour, our daughter arrived. Rebecca Mayme Dadson was born at 12:27 a.m., Feb. 9, 1993. She weighed eight pounds, six ounces, and was 20 inches tall.

A few days ago, I was going through a box of old journals from the early 1990s, and discovered one that relayed the entire episode, including the column I wrote after Rebecca was born.

To all the moms and dads out there and future moms and dads, not a lot has changed with childbirth and delivery. It’s painful, surprising, thrilling, scary and every other emotion you can imagine. It will change your life, mostly for the better.

Happy 29th Birthday, Rebecca!

The Ingersoll Times, Wednesday, March 3, 1993:

She’s 22 inches tall and weighs 10 pounds, six ounces. And she’s holding us hostage.

But, in all fairness, it’s a self-induced hostage-taking.

Our three-week-old daughter, Rebecca, was born Feb. 9,1993, in Woodstock General Hospital.

While some parents would say they have a child, in reality, the child has them.

Why else would we rush to the baby’s side at her slightest whimper?

Why else would we pick her up and cuddle her even when she is not hungry or in need of a diaper change?

Why else would we ensure all the amenities of life are at her disposal night and day?

I’ll tell you why. It begins with a slight back pain in the middle of the night.

At least, that's how my labour began. I thought it was a simple back pain that, upon diagnosis, would require two acetaminophen tablets and a call to the doctor the next day.

Not so. David took me to the hospital at 3 a.m., Feb. 8. And I had no sooner described my symptoms then I was wheeled up to the obstetrics ward, my clothes were taken and in their place, I was given a hospital gown to wear, and a plastic bracelet was put on my wrist.

I was in labour.

No, I thought, I just have a bad back pain. I can’t be in labour. I’m not due for two more days. Ah, the blissful ignorance of the novice!

Anyway, the back pain increased as the hours dragged on. I was told to get up and move around even though I was quite comfortable in a reclining chair in front of a colour television set. But, up I got, with the help of my husband, and walked the O.B. ward numerous times throughout the following ordeal.

My sister, Barb, showed up and stayed with me for most of the day so David could go home and shower and change. The two of them suffered incredibly over the next few hours but, of course, I couldn’t tell from behind a thick haze of pain.

Oh, the first little while was rather interesting, with monitors stuck to my abdomen, registering the baby’s heart beat and the contractions. But later on, as the contractions got closer and closer together, it ceased to be fun and became hard work.

In retrospect, I can feel sympathy for David and Barb who were trying to ease my pain. But let’s face it, when someone tells you to “breathe” (special techniques of breathing to work through the pain of a contraction), it only prompts the frustrated response, “I am breathing” or “I’m trying to.”

And poor David. There I was breathing in nitrous oxide (laughing gas) to relieve the pain, which consequently reduced the effectiveness of most of my motor skills. And he was attempting to relieve the pain in my back that was compounded by each contraction.

As I tried to reach around and point out the exact location of the pain, my hand (inadvertently, of course) struck him in the face. He said he finally had to remove his glasses for fear of me breaking them or giving him a bloody nose!

The last two hours of labour were the worst as nothing seemed to ease the pain. But, finally, into the delivery room I went and the real fun began.

I recall telling several friends and acquaintances that there was no way I was going to watch the birth in the mirror strategically placed above the doctor’s head.

Well, I’ll tell you, after 22 hours of labour, i wanted to see the end of the show. So, I asked the doctor to adjust that mirror, I was going to watch.

And it was the most incredible sight!

Just as your arms are breaking off from pulling while you push, and your lower abdomen feels as if it is being torn in two, you see your baby being born.

It truly is a miracle.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, my baby is crying to be fed. And I don’t want to keep her waiting.