The next day I wrote: “The baby is moving right now. It feels funny. It’s kind of like your legs feel after a hike in the hot weather and the blood is really pumping through your vessels only bigger. If you know what I mean. I had to get up to go to the bathroom about 4 million times because of Baby.”
On June 29, 1986, I finally wrote about the birth. “Saturday, May 31, I had the baby. She’s a girl and we named her Alisha Marie. I guess I had an easy labor. Everyone says I did. It was short, I know that much. I went to the hospital at two and went into the delivery room at three. At 3:24, I had a new baby and she let everyone know she was here.
“Alisha was 6 pounds (actually 5 pounds 15 ¾ ounces) and 20 inches. Last Wednesday she was up to 6 lb. 11 ½ oz. and still 20 inches. She lost to 5 lb. 6 oz.”
Friday, July 18, 1986, I wrote: “Having a baby is definitely worth all the fatness, lost sleep, and everything.”
Some things were not as I remembered. Mainly that we got to the hospital at 2:00 rather than the 3:00 I remembered.
I remember that contractions started sometime in the early morning. I’d been experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions and so I didn’t think much of those I was having this particular day. We’d spent the night at Fernando’s parents; I don’t remember if the plan was for me to stay there that day or to go home to Grandma and Papa’s but I ended up going home. Now that I think about it, that was most likely the plan because my mom and sisters were planning on spending the day there.
Papa was reading the paper or a book or watching television and I was sitting in the chair that I often did to work on homework. It was good for that because Papa had made it and the arm rests were parallel to the floor so I could put a board across the top and have a sort-of-desk. It worked well and I did lots of school work there. I wasn’t doing any homework this day, however. I’m not sure if contractions were getting uncomfortable or not but they were coming fairly often but I still didn’t have a clue what that meant. At some point, my water broke. I knew enough to know that that was a sure sign that something some happening. I looked at Papa and he looked at me and I said, “Uh, oh.”
Grandma was taking a bath and I went through the kitchen into the hall at the bottom of the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. “I think we have a problem,” I said. I must have told her what had happened although I have no recollections of it. She said I should call the hospital and would wait for my mom to come. Then we’d go to the hospital. I called the hospital and waited for my mother. Becky and Marie stayed with Papa while Grandma, my mom and I went to the hospital. The road never seemed so bumpy as it did that day.
We arrived at the hospital at 2:00 (I am not sure why I always remembered it being 3:00). I hadn’t done any paperwork so that all had to be done before I could be admitted. It being my first baby and a good four to six weeks before the due date the doctors had come up with, they weren’t in any hurry. I wished they would but one of the women said, “Oh, it’s a good thing you aren’t in a hurry.” I remember thinking, ‘Who says we’re not?’
Once I was admitted, things are somewhat blurry. Dr. Saunders, the doctor I usually saw, was out climbing Mt. Shasta (can’t find fault with him for that—it was a beautiful day). Dr. Morris was available but he was the only doctor in the practice I hadn’t met. Now, I am not sorry, Dr. Morris was very good and I’m glad I had him rather than the other doctor in the practice that I had met but didn’t like.
They told me to go to the bathroom. I was scheduled for a cesarean section due to the fact that I had vaginal warts and the doctors weren’t sure if I’d be able to stretch enough to get a baby out. I think they hooked me up to a monitor and they must have done a vaginal exam because they were amazed at how far dilated I was. So far that it made the C-section not an option (which I now thank my lucky stars for). It being customary hospital practice to hook up an IV, I must have had one but I do not remember it if I did. I honestly do not remember if I had any pain medication. If I did have the IV, it would have been easy enough for them to give it. I remember Grandma calling Fernando and saying that if he wasn’t there for the birth, he’d have her to answer to. He made it. I remember that at one point he told the doctor that if it came to a choice between me and the baby, it would be me.
At some point, they told me to push. They told me to use the Valsalva maneuver (which I did not know by name then). I was supposed to hold my breath and push with all I had. I did. I don’t remember how many times I pushed but out came a baby and she squalled. I don’t remember Apgar scores; neither do I really remember anything much else. I do know that I had an episiotomy which must have been stitched up. Fernando stayed with me while my mom and Grandma went with the nurses to the nursery to clean Alisha up. I do not remember at what point they brought Alisha back but I’d fallen in love before the birth so it didn’t matter. I wasn’t the most confident mother, but I also knew that I could do what mothers for eons before me had done.
Now, looking back, I notice some things that I didn’t at the time. The pushing was overmuch. I don’t know why they have women push like that when it is not often necessary. I pushed so hard that I had broken vessels in the whites of my eyes, on my face, and on my chest. Why? Alisha wasn’t a large baby; great amounts of force were not needed. I also don’t understand why an episiotomy was done other than it was pretty routine at that time. Again, she wasn’t a large baby. Maybe, due to the amount of force I was exerting, I would have torn. If I’d have been having the kind of birth with her I did with Joseph, it’s possible there would have been no tears. Whatever the case, it happened as it happened and I had a new baby and she was my world.
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This is Alisha taken in January of 1987
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