I did, I wanted a haircut so very badly. It was a Saturday morning, I was heavily pregnant, and I had made up my mind that it had to be that day. I was 2 days away from my due date, and the midwife kept telling me "any day now." So I fed the kids, checked my email, and took a bath. When I got upstairs and sat on the bed, plans suddenly changed. There would be no haircut. Instead, there would be a baby, because there was amniotic fluid all over the floor. I was thrilled! At that point, I was pretty much disgusted with life and wanting that little parasite out of my body. I had been having unproductive contractions for the previous 11 days, so I was beyond ready. I immediately started to feel crampy, and once my water broke with my older son, labor went quick, so I figured I'd better high tail it to the hospital. I got there shortly after noon on Saturday. I was at 3 cms. NOT in labor. But, my water was indeed broken, so they wouldn't let me go home. The maternity department of this hospital was brand new, and looked more like a hotel than a hospital. All of the rooms were private rooms in which they welcomed families to stay the whole time with the new mom. It was so family oriented, that the head nurse and the floor secretary both had their children there with them that day. So when I started walking the halls, the head nurse's 4 year old daughter kept me company. For two hours, I don't think she took a breath between sentences. But all walking did was make my back hurt. I sat down for a while and watched some TV. VH1 was making a big deal about the BeeGees being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, because the induction ceremony was taking place that weekend. I used to really like the BeeGees, and had a mad crush on Barry Gibb. It was the beard I think. Yes, I was aware he was like 20 years older than me, I didn't care. Anyhow, I watched hours and hours worth of the BeeGees, waiting, hoping, praying for labor to start on it's own. As the hours passed, I grew more and more disgusted with my body for not doing what it was supposed to be doing. Finally the decision was made to induce labor in the morning so that I could eat, rest, and be ready. Rest, yeah, right. The song Fanny Be Tender kept going through my mind all night long...
I really wanted a drug free birth. I'd been around the block a time or 3 before, and figured out that for me, my body works best when left alone. I chose a midwife who supported drug free birth, who was supposed to be with me from beginning to end. I made my wishes clear, and told her on several occasions how quickly my previous two labors went. I never ever considered that my water would break and I'd need to have pitocin. I knew it could be nasty, but I also really did not want an epidural. They started the pit at 6:15 and upped the dosage every 15 minutes. By 8:30, I was demanding an epidural and the resignation of every nurse on the floor if they didn't stop that pitocin NOW. They didn't. They also said I had to wait for the epidural. I hated them. By 9, I was crawling out of of my skin, I felt totally out of my mind and out of control. I could not understand why they could not turn off the pit, labor was well under way. At 9:15, I told the nurses I felt like I needed to have a bowel movement. They checked my progress and said I was 4, maybe 5 cms, and still had a long way to go. Homicide entered my mind. With the very next contraction, I felt an uncontrollable urge to push. I said "I need to push!" The nurse said, "no, you don't." My body didn't listen. It pushed. The nurses said, "oh we better help her, she's pushing anyway." They pulled down the covers, and no lie, there was a baby lying on the bed. I said "I told you I had to push!" One push. That's it. (And this my friends, is why SnuggleButt was born at home...)
And that's how my Sassy came into the world. Sunday, May 4th, 1997, and she's been doing things her own way ever since.
She's my hero, you know? She's been through things even I can't and don't want to imagine, and I have to take partial responsibility for those things happening. I do understand how my choices contributed to what happened to her, and I stupidly thought "It'll never happen to us" so I never told her about good touch/bad touch. I can never make that up to her, never. But you know what, for now anyway, she's not interested in being a victim. She's not interested in blaming anybody. She's interested in conquering the world. And she can do it too.