Bringing Lauren here

How did I ever forget the pain of delivering a baby? How could the memory of contractions that threatens to overwhelm one's body and will, or the terrible burning sensation that promises to rip your body apart if you push any iota more become so vague and distant until it is time to do it all over again?

10/14/2009, we checked into the hospital at 8am to induce baby Lauren.
It took 3 tries for the nurses to get an IV catheter into my supposedly delicate and tiny yet useless when it comes to catheters vein, and the Pictocin drip was finally started around 10:30am.

The contractions never build up much from the Pitocin. I keep waiting for the contraction to intensify, telling my body that I could take more, just BRING IT ON ALREADY, but it never did. At 7:30pm, I was still at 4cm, 80% effaced, and +1 station, only 1cm more dilated before the drip. The doctor broke my water.

At 8:30pm, all ability to control facial muscle through the pain was lost. On the pain scale of 0 to 10, it's a 10, no question about it. If there's any pain beyond what I was feeling, I pray no one needs to feel it. The doctor and the nurse were called in to consult on medical options to ease the suffering. The anesthesiologist was in a surgery, I was told, so epidural was out. How about something to take off the edge? I was at the peak of the transitional period, but still have 2cm to go. "Would it get any worse?" I asked the doctor in a puny voice. Probably not from the contraction, she said, but pushing would be a different kind of pain. Would I want anything to help me through the delivery? Um... Yes, please. The doctor discussed with nurse on what I should be given. The nurse turned to go, and I halted everyone by uttering the magic word "pressure!" That was 8:35pm. I was ready to give birth.

8:59pm, Lauren was born. The little girl came fast and furious. For all the waiting and anticipating, it's still hard to believe that she is now finally here. It is hard to believe how such a big change in all our lives could arrive so swiftly and happen so matter-of-fact-ly. The earth of my world quaked and restructured itself, mountains moved and oceans surged, but no one outside the hospital room noticed. And now after the searing pain, I have a little sticky, bloody, and wondrous little human being so tiny and fragile in my arms finally here for us to love. The adventure of life continues.

Note: The doctor and nurses commented on how great I did, which I don't understand. Was there a different way to do it? The baby was coming, I couldn't stop it. There was no "let's all take five"; no "here Michael, it's your turn, take over"; no "I quit". I had to push, and so I did. What other options were there? Yes, I did it all naturally. But don't forget, I really didn't have a choice. Any mother would need to go through what I had gone through in order to become a mother, no? More power to the mothers!