RULY

"He doesn't mean any harm", she said , opening her eyes for the first time in many hours to respond to my muffled sobs.

It had been 4 months since my mother had come home to die. It was clear that she only had a few days left. Everyone was exhausted. Emotionally, physically, psychically. I was acting as the primary care giver, the martyr. It was a role I had waited my entire life to play and I seized it with zealous enthusiasm.

My father had been playing golf while my mother lay in a semi-comatose state. Even with one foot in the grave she held a perpetually lit cigarette between her frail fingers. Someone had to be there at all times to prevent her from igniting the bed .

Upon returning from his golf game Dad was supposed to relieve me. The stress of the situation was beginning to take it's toll. Sudden tears, eye twitches, neck pain were becoming frequent. As I heard the garage door open and Dad's car pull in I held my breath . "Help", I thought "is on it's way". I saw him go through the kitchen to avoid walking past our pseudo hospital where my mother and I waited. Dismayed by his total lack of sympathy, I managed to give him the benefit of the doubt until he announced ,"I'm going to take a nap, I'm exhausted."

All I could do was weep. The girl who was given away by a woman who had other plans,now lay in a primal heap,at the feet of the woman who took her in. "It's okay", she feebly offered. It would be the last time I would receive a comforting word from her."He doesn't mean any harm."

 

Painless

 

 

I never really feared the pain of childbirth. My expectations of my pregnancy's final crescendo were distorted by a healthy dollop of denial.At lamaze class I never squirmed during graphic videos of childbirth. It was so natural, so beautiful. I imagined myself just like the women in the videos. Strong and serene. When we arrived at the hospital I would sit in the ubiquitous rocking chair while my husband helped me relax and breathe. We would move to the bed where he would massage my back and dab my forehead with cool washcloths. It was pure fantasy.I likened it to a spa vacation. There was an oversized whirlpool tub,a t.v., reclining bed,and best of all the devoted, pampering husband. That alone was worth $1,000 a night. I couldn't wait. The birth of my baby was just gravy .

During one of my routine exams somewhere in my ninetieth month,the doctor said "hmmm." "What's wrong?"
I said pensively. "Oh it's just that the little guy hasn't turned around yet " she explained. "Huh?" I said. "What exactly does that mean?" "That means he's breach" she answered in that cheery ,clinical tone. "His head is under your diaphragm and his bottom is on your bladder." "No kidding" ,I thought. "He'll probably turn around, but if he doesn't..." " This was not sounding good. "Well, then you'll need a c-section." Don't they give you an epidural when you have one of those?" I exclaimed. (When it comes to childbirth most people fear labor,I feared the epidural.) "Yes, unless you prefer to be unconscious for the birth of your child " she answered less than sympathetically."Relax," she offered "breach or not ,your baby will be born in a matter of weeks." I knew instinctively that I was doomed. An epidural and a c-section were imminent.

Regardless of my pessimism I tried everything to get the baby to turn around. I tried begging him telepathically. I tried color therapy lotions on my belly. I called everyone I knew and asked them to pray. Finally, I tried the most archaic medical procedure currently used in obstetrics. The External Version.

The external version is a procedure where the doctors simply grab hold of the baby through the mother's skin and attempt to push him into the correct position. It's not unlike psychic surgery. I half expected the nurses to don grass skirts and dance around a fire while the doctors worked.

By the third failed attempt I had squeezed the bed rail so hard that I pushed the I.V. out of my wrist. My poor husband was pale with fright. I had never seen such a look on his face. Of course he had never seen such a look on mine.I became Linda Blair in the Exorcist. I even growled my unborn child's name.

When it was over the doctor said "you really gave it your best shot, you did great." She told me that they'd do the c-section in one week. Although it failed miserably, I'll say one thing for the external version-it removed my fear of the epidural!