3 a.m. Thursday, August 2nd, 1973. Maternity unit in Princeton Medical Center.
About 2 a.m. a sharp pain threw me from one side of our bed to the other. Luckily my husband had already vacated his side of the bed. Then my water broke, and I had a bloody show and regular contractions. All three were what my Lamaze teacher told me to look for. I was in labor.
Harold, my husband, checked me into the hospital while I was brought to the maternity unit. Here I met the nurse who would be following me throughout my labor. Similar to the original cold, authoritarian, and rigid character Nurse Ratched in Ken Kesey's book published in 1962, titled One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, she had an uncanny personality likeness to the character in his book.
This nurse gave off vibes of being in charge but not necessarily interested in me as a patient. She was overweight, had a fat face, and lacked a smile. She took me to my bed, asked me to undress, and gave me a designer-labeled hospital gown, this one was ugly olive army-colored green with black edging and large enough to fit at least two of me. No way did this gown conform to my petite figure. Quickly I learned that as a patient I had to forego beauty and privacy and follow the hospital’s rules meted out by this nurse.
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This nurse instructed me to go to the bathroom and gave me something, probably MiraLAX, to clean out my system and shaved my pubic hair in anticipation of my delivery. Then I returned to my bed. Before I could respond, the same unpleasant nurse put a needle in my arm. I found out it was Demerol. It helped me sleep for a few hours. But here’s the problem. Following the Lamaze protocol, I was supposed to refuse medications. Later when I asked the nurse why she did this she said in the least comforting and most irritating way possible, “because you asked so many questions.”
“Of course, I asked questions, I’ve never done this before. . . You had no right to do this."
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When I came into the hospital my cervix had dilated 2 centimeters. With so much pain I imagined I would be delivering soon. No such luck! Several hours went by and my cervix continued to be lazy. Later my doctor came over, examined me, and said that I could start pushing. I wasn't a great pusher. So, my doctor ordered Pitocin which augmented my contractions and within a few minutes I was wheeled into the delivery room.
My husband followed me into the delivery room. One of the nurses helped him put on a blue sterile gown and a large blue sterile cap on his head.
*
As the baby was coming out, the normal position, headfirst, I heard one of the nurses say, “it looks like a boy’s head.”
A pause. The nurse said, “I’m wrong. It's a girl."
I was elated. I always wanted a daughter.
She was born at 3:44 p.m., weighed 7 lbs. 1 oz, and was 20 inches long.
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Now our daughter, at age 51, had a daughter eleven years ago. Before she went into labor, I suggested not doing Lamaze. Too much unnecessary pain. As it turned out Zoe came in less than two hours. She was tiny. She weighed 5 lbs 1 oz. and was two weeks early. There wasn't time to arrange for an epidural.
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Good fortune. Our daughter became a new mother, and we became first-time grandparents.
