Memory Monday: One For the Record Books…

Hello Blogging World, it’s been too long!

I begin with the best of all, an introduction to our beautiful BOY…Image

Bare with me as I try to report the big news…

The afternoon began as planned with a check-up for 38 weeks.  I had a rare opportunity for alone time so naturally, I got in the car and cranked up the radio.  There is nothing quite like spazzing out to old Def Leppard songs.  Somehow, they can make a hugely pregnant suburban housewife feel all edgy and stuff.  (‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’?  Yeah, well Joe Elliot, this aging wanna-be rocker happens to know for a fact, you are NOT talking about the granulated variety.)

By the time I got to the office, I had gotten my wiggles out and put my dignified face back on, expecting the regular come-back-in-a-week response.  What I wasn’t expecting was to be checked into labor and delivery less than 3 hours later!

Even though those few hours in between were a blur, we were fortunate enough to have our doula there.  Heather happens to be our lovely forever friend, who’s been dear to both He-Man and me since we were 15 years old and is affectionately known by the girls as ‘Fake Aunt Heather’ (so as to distinguish her from their Aunt Heather, married to He-Man’s brother.)  She would be catching a early morning flight the next morning so we were anxious to see whether or not there would be a ‘Meet and Greet’ at the end of it all.

Since heavy duty drugs were involved, the kind that make a gal’s uterus start whimpering then gradually make every attempt to heave itself out of her body, I opted for an epidural.  I really, REALLY didn’t want one because the last time I had one, it came about 10 minutes before I gave birth and I spent 2 hours on the bed with rubber legs.

Of course the anesthesiologist came into the room and promptly gave me the song and dance about the ‘mitigating risks of an epidural’.  (“Yep, got it, doc.  Now jab that ginormous needle into my spine quick BEFORE I feel my lady parts explode.)

He-Man always cracks me up at this part.  He LOVES anesthesiologists.  Whenever they walk through the door, it’s like they are long lost friends.  It only takes a few minutes before they are cracking jokes and comparing grad-school stories.  These two were having a grand time mapping out my spine until the room suddenly got very quiet….right about the time I became a pin cushion.

At that moment, I could sense something was wrong.  A second later, as I was trying to ask the question, it felt like someone stabbed me in the forehead with an icepick.  The world began to spin.  I remember everyone talking in whispers and while I knew there were people in the room, it felt like they were far away and I was in my own little bubble.  It was very strange.

Ya know those mitigating risks they warn laboring mothers about?   This was one of them.  I had accidentally been ‘wet-tapped’.  Essentially, the epidural puncture went too far and created a spigot.   In attempting to help me understand what was happening, they actually used the words ‘faucet’ and ‘spinal fluid squirting out’ and ‘brain crashing into the skull’.


It was at that point when I could feel my body going into shock.  I’ve felt it before, but never so quickly and never quite like this.  That is when the medical staff pumped my veins full of epinephrine.  I knew what it was before they even told me due to my past need for its anit-anaphylactic power.  (Stupid gluten allergy!)

It made me feel like I could run a marathon…either that or birth a reluctant baby who really would have rather slept for another 2 weeks.

My uterus decided on birthing.

And quickly too.

Within about an hour, the epinephrine, pitocin and epidural cocktail produced the needed power to heave the current resident from my womb.  It barely waited for permission.  From the moment we checked in to the ‘Hello!  Meet Your Daddy Moment’ was about 6 hours.

And so with He-Man strategically placed, gloved up and ready to go, the two met a minute or two later.  I will never, ever forget the giddy words, ‘It’s a…BOY!’ spoken with the excitement of a little boy on Christmas morning.

The euphoria was instant.  It could’ve been the joy.  Or the relief.  Or even the drugs…probably a little bit of all of them.

He may have come early and with some serious risk. The brain scan and radioactive mother would make for an interesting first month but for the moment none of that mattered.  HE had arrived.


Meet Punkin Duncan

And all was right with the world.


About T.D.

Hi there! Thanks for stopping by my corner of the blogosphere. I hope you like it here. This blog is where I ramble about the hats I wear (wife, mother, author, educator, etc) and everything in between. A wise man once said 'Happiness is a habit; cultivate it'. Here on this blog, I intend to do just that.
This entry was posted in Happy Little Accidents, Memory Monday. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Memory Monday: One For the Record Books…

  1. Kelley says:

    I’m glad everything turned out okay in the end. He’s adorable, Trish!

  2. Erin says:

    I just love that pic of you guys – you’re adorable! And now you can have fun with a boy, too! Miss you all!!

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