Theory Vs. Practice

Dear All,

Well- it's been a while. I haven't had anything to say for a while.

My friend had her baby. She did pretty well for a prima gravisa, a first-time mom. She was in serious labor for about ten hours. I sat with her for a while my husband took her husband out for some dinner. She wasn't allowed to eat, so none of us wanted to do it in front of her.

I don't think that I have ever seen anyone other than my husband or me in that much pain. It was a very jarring experience. I wasn't their when her son was born, but I suspect she was in far more pain during delivery.

She also said everyone was yelling directions to her. I can't imagine that that was much help. Also- apparently, she wouldn't take the advice of the doctors and nurses about how to make the birth go faster and be less painful. Normally, she is a measured, cautious person, and follows the advice other people give her when they are in a possition to know what they are talking about. For some reason, however, she seemed oddly unprepaired for the whole experience. She went to classes, and read books about birthing. I think that pain can make people crazy and do self-defeating things.

I was aware of being in the way. I tried to stay out of the way, and only transmit necessary messages to the doctors and nurses, but there were quite a few. The only one that I can remember getting immediate attention was when I said she had to use the toilet, and the door was locked. I felt a little bit useless, but I knew that it would be bad for her to be alone, and so I did what I could to sooth her when the pain was at its height. We have never been touchy feely friends, so this was pretty much limited to talking in a low soothing voice. I am not absolutely sure that she could hear the words, but it seemed to be something steady on which she could concentrate other than the pain, which by that time was nearly non-stop.

I timed her contractions as best as I could without pencil and paper, and told her how close they were. When the fetal heartbeat monitor slipped down her belly so we couldn't hear the heartbeat or see the number of beats per minute on the little screen, I told the nurse who basically ignored it. About forty-five minutes later someone came in to adjust it. I have never felt so useless, so in the way, in my whole life. But I stayed because I knew that I was not useless, that just my presence gave her comfort, support and strength.

She was mad that the husbands had been out for so long and he choice words for men. She told me that I didn't want to have kids because I didn't want to go through what she was going through. Then she cried a little. I talked to her in a quiet, low voice. She became a bit calmer, even laughing a little bit at how silly she must look. Honestly, I though she was beautiful, rosy, glowing. I didn't advance this opinion because I knew that the rosy glow was the direct result of pain. The pain didn't scare me in the least. I had dealt with serious pain before.

About two hours after we had gotten there, my husband came back with my friend's husband, only they wouldn't let my husband up because he wasn't family. So, I left my friend, reluctantly. She had been walking around, and was having a contraction, and which point she sagged against her husband who caught her a patted her back as she started to cry. At this point I left. Clearly, I was no longer needed, and I felt as though I was intruding. Plus, my husband was waiting downstairs, banished to the waiting room.

While I was glad to be there for her, I left ASAP. I was very surprised by my reaction when I held their son the next day. The head was soft. I realized that I had made the right decision by not having kids of my own. It terrified me to be holding this terribly fragile creature. It wasn't the pain that terrified me, it was the ongoing need, and the senstivity of the individual in need. I was very relieved to hand him back to his mom, my friend, who looked as happy as a brand new day.