The Hughes Family Report

I thought I should share your birth story on this due date of September 4th.

Elgin, there is a book called, "On the Night You Were Born," and on its cover is an image of two dancing polar bears. I never even picked up that book to consider as a gift for you or your brother. I surely do want you to know that you are loved very much before, during, and after your birth, but the idea of dance doesn't cross my mind when I think of delivery. Nor do fuzzy creatures against a serene, starry backdrop.

Polar bears gnashing their teeth, perhaps.

I kid. It's beautiful. Part of it. And I want you to know about the night you were born.

To fully grasp the evening, though, I should back up all the way to the night your brother was born so that you understand, at least as far as I understand it, where my head was when I went into labor with you.

Henry took a little longer to get here. I woke with painful contractions around 1:30 AM and began working on a grant that was due in just two days. I just had to get it done. Eventually, I could no longer type due to intense and frequent pain, so I woke up Daddy around 6:00 AM to ask him to time the contractions. They were lasting about a minute and were two and a half minutes apart. We went to the hospital where it was determined that I was only one centimeter dilated, so I walked almost a mile around the hospital before I was prescribed a shot that would either stop or regulate contractions and then ordered to go home and return when my water broke. My water broke soon after we got home, and we returned to the hospital where I was still only two centimeters despite very intense and frequent contractions, and even though I am not clear on it, I am pretty sure that, along with the standard fluids, I was also administered pitocin. I quickly dilated to four centimeters and was then given the glorious epidural and was sent to that blissful land of dancing polar bears. Henry was born after just four pushes. It was beautiful. I was fully present. Your Daddy and I were thrilled and in love with your brother. In the subsequent days and months, I became irritated that I wasn't even sure if I was given pitocin. To be clear, I don't know if it was administered. I was just going off the whisperings of the staff that stuck in my head for months after birth.

With you, Elgin, I was determined to have only the epidural and to labor at home as much as possible to help ensure that everything was under my control. Sure, I was already two centimeters for over a week, but once my mind was made up to labor more at home, I stuck with it. So now you know the basis for your wild and crazy birth.

On Tuesday, August 23rd, a couple of very important things happened. That morning, your great aunt, Daddy's Aunt Walton, passed away. She was loved dearly by your Daddy and was a very big part of his life for many years when she lived with Daddy and his family in Kingstree. She was also one of those people that you meet and instantly like because she made it clear that she wanted to know you and already loved you. Her family was important to her. She was important to so many families.

It took about thirty seconds, the time it took to exchange the idea, for Daddy and me to decide to name you after Aunt Walton.

We also went to a doctor's appointment on Tuesday and had one more ultrasound. You were clearly dropped and making your way towards the birth canal. Your weight was in normal range, but the estimates were still large enough for me to worry a bit. Dr. Keith went ahead and stripped my membranes since she knew that I wanted her to deliver you, and she would be on call the following morning at 8:00 AM.

Daddy I went to lunch where I ordered a very spicy eggplant pad thai. I was determined to get you moving even though I had little faith in membrane stripping and folk lore foods.

Daddy went back to his office, and I stopped at the library to return a book and pick up my reserved Harry Potter. I ditched other plans since I was feeling a little crampy and wanted to rest.

Once at home lying in bed and watching TV, I felt the bed start shaking. And continuing to shake for about ten seconds.

For a split second, I thought it was all about you and me.

Then I realized that it must be an earthquake. Daddy confirmed that he felt it at his downtown office, and before long, there was news coverage of the earthquake felt up and down the eastern seaboard. I never felt an earthquake before. Was it a sign?

When Daddy and Henry came home that evening, we ate, did our bedtime routine with Henry, and then Cory and I talked about my persistent but mild cramps. I sent a message to your aunt Elizabeth that I might be having contractions but, "we'll see!" Daddy looked up breathing techniques for labor, and we did some practice rounds, but I think I was actually already using the deep breathing to manage the growing pain. We also looked up how to know when to go to the hospital since, through all the drama of your in utero residence, we really never refreshed our labor and delivery knowledge.

Meanwhile, the contractions grew strong enough for me that, even though I could talk through most of them, I was definitely utilizing my newly acquired breathing techniques. Daddy fell asleep around midnight, and I tried to lie down to sleep. It wasn't happening. The pain was far too annoying. I just needed something to focus on. I folded laundry. I checked on Henry. I wiped down the kitchen table.

I woke up Daddy around 1:00 AM and told him that the contractions definitely changed and felt like true labor, but, I wanted to labor at home some more even though Cory timed them to about 45 seconds and only three minutes apart. (According to our Google research, you are supposed to go to the hospital when they are five minutes apart.) I asked Daddy to fix me a warm bath. I sank into the warm water and Daddy intermittently packed the car while checking in with me and timing contractions.

Eventually, I gained enough sense to remember that, not only did we need to call Grandjane and Grandjoe to come stay with your big brother, but we also had to give them time to get here. Daddy called them around 2:00 AM, and I could tell that I was doing too good of a job being calm and managing my pain since Cory's voice did not reflect my own sudden sense of urgency. Still, I remained in control and, quite possibly, in denial of being in actual labor. Grandjane and Grandjoe arrived at our home after an excruciating 45 minutes, and I finally let it be known that I was in terrible pain and needed to get to the hospital immediately. I really, really wanted my epidural and very much hoped that I was dilated to four centimeters so that I could get the needle right away. I was fantasizing about the pain relief and maybe even a chance to rest.

Daddy dutifully ran a red light.

We got to the hospital around 3:00 AM. By the time we arrived, deep breathing wasn't cutting it, and I couldn't make it through the lobby without having a couple of pretty awful contractions. The security guard brought a wheelchair that I folded into, and Daddy raced me and the suitcase to the elevators and the fourth floor where I flashed ten fingers when the nurse asked me for my pain level. Turns out, I was seven centimeters dilated. I yelled, "I had no intentions of being that dilated! I need an epidural!"

I was wheeled to a delivery room where I came face to face with the same heavenly nurse who cared for me when I contracted food poisoning about a month prior. Although I recognized her, I couldn't verbalize it, and she knew better than to chat about our previous meeting. I am in awe of all labor and delivery nurses. How do they do it? She, along with your Daddy and a few other nurses, helped me regain control several times when I was slipping into panic. I watched the staff scramble to get me ready for my desired epidural and then listened as they successfully negotiated with the anesthesiologist to administer the epidural when only a half bag of fluid was emptied into my iv. The anesthesiologist agreed, and when she and her nurse came in the room, I saw a ray of hope enter the room through the open curtain.

Daddy and nurse Lorraine kept me somewhat sane until I leaned over the bed to prepare for my relief in a needle. It was all you needed to move down the canal. Lorraine commanded me to open my eyes, look at her, and breath. I opened my eyes, looked at her, and I yelled, yelled, yelled. You crowned. My water broke. I was scared. She quickly figured out that my yell was from pain and panic and that you were crowning. Hands pushed me back on the bed, and someone was telling me not to push. I yelled that I didn't know how to not push!

I still vehemently demanded the epidural, yelling at the staff that surrounded my bed, "I'm not prepared for natural delivery... NOT PREPARED!" The anesthesiologist was calmly asserting that she could still do the job, and I asked Doctor Hood, who is not from my regular office but was the in house OB for the night and was apparently the most available doctor, what to do. He said, "I don't know. You can try to get the epidural, but you may deliver before it takes effect. And, I don't know if you can be still enough."

Everyone but me knew that the epidural wasn't happening. When this random doctor said that I might not be still enough for the needle, I felt my brain turning towards acknowledgement of having to deliver you completely naturally. Seconds later, I was pushing through a contraction with Daddy and nurse Lorraine shouting encouragement and helping pull back my unwilling legs while I gripped the hand of the poor nurse anesthetist whose original plan was to help out with pain relief. I pushed once. I pushed twice. Daddy and Lorraine told me that I needed to push harder the next time and that you would be here. I could feel the progress, and I made myself a believer. I puuuuuuuuuuushed.

Oh, the relief!

And, suddenly, you were on my chest, crying and looking so, so perfect, slimy, and beautiful. First, I grabbed your body, took you in, then yelled to each face in the room, "He's so cute! He's so cute!" Every face in the room nodded, smiled back at me, and agreed. Then, I remember saying to you over and over, "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

You were really here. You were crying in my arms at 3:36 AM. And, Elgin, you were safe and healthy. Dancing polar bears cannot capture how I felt in those first moments.

On the night you were born, our family got glued even tighter. Welcome to this world, this family, and to your life. I never could and never will be able to keep you within my expectations, Elgin. Your birth was quite fitting for you.