On Saturday, Sept. 21, 2002 at 8:50 a.m., my wife, Lisa, gave birth to our second child, Colin Aric Brian Carnell. But to really explain the experience, first you have to know about Christmas 1996.
That was when my daughter decided to be born, and I can without any qualms say it was one of the most hellish experiences I’ve ever been through, and in some ways the second time around was even worse.
Back in 1996, my wife first noticed she seemed to be having more regular contractions very early in the morning. But since they were still very far apart, we drove the 60 minutes or so to a relative’s house for Christmas festivities anyway. We drove back in a nice snowstorm and went directly to the hospital.
Lisa is one of those people who wants as natural a childbirth as possible so she had almost no pain killing drugs (and an epidural was strictly out of the question). I had an abscessed wisdom tooth that was pulled a few days later and was myself in excruciating pain at the time (though I would not have switched places with her for anything). And on top of it all, it took almost 24 hours for my daughter to make her way out.
After that my opinion is that women who do not want epidurals or pain killers must secretly be masochists. Would I want an epidural if I were pregnant woman? Hell no, I’d want at least three of them and all the pain medication doctors are legally allowed to give.
But we should have expected that from the pregnancy which was one long vomit-fest. Lisa literally vomitted 6-12 times a day for almost 6 months. Ah, the miracle of pregnancy and childbirth. The real downside was that Emma came out being just on the edge of being low birth weight. Today she’s almost 6, but people who don’t know her guess she’s 4.
Compared to that, the second pregnancy was a breeze. There was no marathon vomitting and the ultrasounds revealed the child would be at least 7 pounds.
So we go to bed Friday night with Lisa thinking she’s having contractions and she wakes me up at 2:30 a.m. to confirm that indeed the baby is on its way. We both try to sleep for another hour, then wake up our daughter, call the relatives, and head out to the hospital. By this time it is 4:30 a.m. and my neighborhood is still filled with drunken students staggering around. My daughter asks me if all of the people on the street are coming to see Colin be born? I tell her that they might end up at the hospital for different reasons, but definitely not to see her soon-to-be baby brother.
We arrive at the hospital and my in-laws arrive around 6 a.m. or so. And then it starts to look like Christmas 1996 all over again. Lisa’s contractions are becoming longer, more frequent, and obviously much more painful, but she’s not dilating much.
Then Emma starts getting antsy because she didn’t get any sleep and she’s stuck in a boring hospital. So my in-laws take her to a waiting area on a lower floor (there are no waiting areas on the birthing floor) to play for awhile and watch television.
And then everything pretty much happens at high speed. One minute she’s not dilating, the next minute Lisa is screaming her head off, the midwife says she’s fully dilated, and the next thing I know there are 7 or 8 doctors, nurses and other hospital staff in the room. Something about how they’re not getting good readings from the electrodes attached to the baby’s skull.
Then, I can clearly see the head and within a few minutes the baby is out. And then the midwife is doing the most controlled yelling of instructions I’ve ever seen. I look down and see why — there’s a goddamn umbilical cord wrapped once around the baby’s shoulder and then around his neck looking for all the world like some H.R. Giger painting of some alien parasite trying to suck the life out of the baby. The midwife just has this complete look of clarity and serenity, and while she’s yelling to the other doctors and staff that the cord is around the neck, she simultaneously removes the cord in a ballet-esque move that defies all logic. I saw her do it, but I still don’t know exactly how.
I don’t know if my wife saw or heard any of that, but I’m freaking out inside while trying to maintain some outward sense of composure. Once they’ve got the baby on a warming table to boost his temperature, I’m asking how much I need to worry about this. She’s reassuring me that the fetal monitor only indicated any sort of distress for a very brief time, so I shouldn’t worry. Right, tell that to the millions of years of evolutionary instinct that’s still screaming “danger, danger” as if I’d been temporarily awarded an after-the-fact Spidey sense.
Otherwise, the baby and mother are doing fine and the big sister is extremely impressed by it all. More pictures to follow soon.