When Push Comes to Shove

I have the workout of my life coming up soon. I have some hard decisions that I hopefully get to make. I have been through this situation three times before and I still have no idea what to expect. There are too many variables, too many possible problems and different outcomes. I mean, obviously, the final outcome will be two adorable baby boys being introduced into my world. What I am saying is that between now and that moment I can hold them in my arms for the very first time, a whole lot can and is going to happen.

Rewind almost fourteen years ago, I was twenty years old and in labor with my first born son. When I went into labor, at first, I did not know that I was in labor yet. I was at a party being thrown for my Ex and myself. Our last big Hoorah before being grounded for life. Everyone was having a good time; touch football, beer, food, friends. I sat at the picnic table outside and crocheted while chatting with the ladies. I started to feel just a little off, sort of sick to my stomach with a little lower back ache. No big deal, I could just go inside and lay on the couch for a bit. I was fine. Hmm.

Lucky for me, the friend who was throwing us the party has a mother who was an RN. When she came in to replenish the party food, she saw me laying there in her living room and started in with the questions. She then quickly got her mother on the phone who suggested I get to the hospital as soon as possible because I was obviously in labor. Also, we were partying in Buffalo, MN and our hospital of choice was in Fridley, MN. A little bit of a drive. I was two weeks away from my due date and caught off guard. Needless to say, we were on the road within minutes, shortly after 7 PM. Around forty five minutes later we arrived at the hospital. My Mom had arrived too, my rock. The doctor quickly determined that my stubborn son was in a breech position, sitting cross-legged over the exit, so to speak, and my contractions were coming much faster and harder. They were going to have to do an emergency C-section but I had eaten dinner at the party only a couple hours earlier so they wanted to hold off as long as possible. You are not supposed to eat for twelve hours before major surgery with anesthesia because of the increased risk of vomiting and then choking on it. Glamorous.

Just before midnight, they could not wait any longer for the sake of the baby and I was rushed to the operating room. Bright lights, people in masks everywhere, stainless steel glinting, big blue curtain thrown up in front of my face to block the view, completely numb from the shoulders down, throwing up into a little plastic tub, the Father of my child staying close but with fear in his eyes, constant commotion...and then...the baby cries out. Sweet relief, but only momentarily. He is quickly held up to my face for a look-see. Then he is just as quickly taken away for a bit while I get stitched, stapled, cleaned up, poked and prodded, sick a little more and, of course, Morphined. I had told his father to go be with him, I would be fine. The baby needed one of us there.

Once we were back in our room it was much more calm and quiet. Thank goodness. Family trickled in through the wee hours to see the first grandchild/nephew. It was very nice and we were so proud and in love with our new bundle. Everything was great, everything except for the itching. Oh my God, the itching! I could literally have scratched my face off. Hold my hands down and tell me to stop scratching. But it itches so much!...I learned that I was allergic to Morphine that night. Good to know.

In the weeks to come, my incision became infected and I had to be put on antibiotics. Kind of a scary thing though; sitting in bed, reading a book, minding my own business and then I look down and see blood spreading on the front of my shirt by my abdomen. It all worked out OK in the end but I was freaked out for a bit. I had a few anxiety dreams after that of my insides falling out and I could not get them back in for the life of me. Shudder.

That was my first time. My second was quite a different experience. I was twenty two years old and now had a twenty month old son. I woke up at 7:00 in the morning, as usual. I knew immediately, this time, that I was in labor. My sons' Father was at work already and I proceeded to wake up my toddler and get him ready for daycare. I called in to my work and explained that I was having my baby today so I, of course, would not be in that day. I was very calm and not scared at all. This felt right. The contractions were normal and spaced out nicely, not too painful yet. I packed up my son into the car and drove him to daycare. I called my Ex from there and told him to meet me at the hospital, this was it. The daycare lady thought I was a little strange for driving myself but I assured her that I was just fine.

I arrived at the hospital at around 8:30 AM. Their Father and my Super Mom were close behind. All was normal. I hung out in the room, sipped on broth, rocked in a chair and watched reruns of The Cosby Show. Once my labor became more active, I agreed to some pain medication. I think it was something that started with an N, although I do not remember for sure. It burned like crazy going up my arm and into my blood stream. Within minutes I was knocked out cold and drooling on my pillow like some kind of zombie. I woke up during the stronger contractions and then fell right back into unconscious sleep. This was not really the experience I had had in mind. The majority of my day was lost to me. Later on in the evening I came to and gave birth to my second beautiful son. I had an epidural and was able to deliver him by Vbac, vaginal birth after cesarean. He was born around 7:30 at night, about a twelve hour event. Not bad, time wise, I just wish I had been conscious for more of it. Oh well. Should of, would of, could of.

The day I gave birth to my daughter in 2009, another Vbac delivery, everything went perfectly. At around 9:00 AM I knew that I was in labor. Slow and steady. I was having small contractions every twenty minutes all throughout the day. It was New Year's Eve and we had no big plans, no reason to rush. I took a long relaxing bath and braided my hair. I painted my nails nice and did my make-up, nothing fancy, just enough to make me feel pretty. I sat in the recliner for most of the day and rocked slowly. I watched Romancing the Stone and reminisced of the night my husband and I had our first kiss while watching the same movie years before. Nostalgic. My husband was supposed to be at work by 4:00 PM. My contractions were not any closer or stronger yet so I assured him I was fine and let him go. My sons were home with me and plenty old enough to call someone in case of emergency, but I felt just fine anyway. At about 4:45 PM I had some quick changes in my contraction intensity and proximity and realized it was time to get up and get to the hospital. I calmly told my sons that they needed to go brush their teeth and pack a bag of entertainment because it was time for us to go to the hospital. They were surprised and stared at me for a moment, then they realized that I was serious and they got excited and ran upstairs. They did not take very long. I, meanwhile, warmed up the car. We were having a record cold winter and this night was no exception. I called my husband and told him to meet us at the hospital, too bad he drove all the way to work for nothing. I could feel his excitement through the phone. I then called my Mom and told her to meet us at the hospital too. By 5:30 PM, we were all set, the boys were in the waiting room with other excited family members. I elected to have another epidural but absolutely none of the other drugs. I would not miss any of this birth. I wanted to be awake. I wanted to remember. And I do.

She was born at 9:30 PM. Nice and short delivery. No complications. Everything went smoothly. There was a Blue Moon hanging in the sky that night. I will never forget the moment my sons came in to meet their baby sister. The love in their eyes was indescribable. The were practically vibrating from the love and excitement radiating from their bodies. Melted my heart.

In the next six to nine weeks I will be back in the hospital doing it all over again. I do not want a cesarean birth again. The time it takes to heal and all the restrictions to follow are not as easy once you have more children to take care of. I do not want to be out of commission for that long. I also know that I may not have a choice. At my last appointment the babies were both head up, or in breech position. The doctor assured me that there is still plenty of time for two busy babies to flip over and face head down. I know he is right but I can't help thinking about how little space that they have compared to a baby in there all alone. Only time will tell.

My doctor mentioned that with twin pregnancies they usually schedule the cesarean delivery for 38 weeks, two weeks before the regular anticipated delivery date. At first this made sense to me but the more that I think about it, the more I don't like it, deep down in my gut. I have done some research and came across a documentary called The Business of Being Born made by Ricki Lake a few year ago. It was very eye opening and it really got me thinking about my wants and wishes compared to the motives and rules of modern medicine, hospitals, insurance companies, etc. I know in my heart that I do not want to be cut open again if I do not have to be. I need to have a long talk with my doctor at my next appointment.

This will be my last birthing experience. I am older, stronger and wiser. I will not endanger the babies but I will also not be pushed into something I do not want to do. There is a part of me that feels like I may be able to handle giving birth naturally without any drugs or interventions. I have not decided this for sure but it is rolling around in my brain at the moment. If the babies are breech and I have to have a c-section, so be it. I get it and their safety comes first. I do not want to schedule it at 38 weeks though. I want the babies to stay inside me as long as possible. The longer they stay in, the healthier and more ready for the world they will be. The longer they stay in, the better their chances are of flipping head down and allowing a vaginal birth. Sure, it might suck for me physically, but that is not the point. A couple more stretch marks, big deal. A couple more weeks of swollen ankles and restless nights, so what. Worth it if it is for them.

My husband is not so sure about the "no intervention" child birth experience and I understand why. It has to be so hard to stand by while someone you love is in pain and there is nothing you can do to make them feel better. Maybe that person actually yells out and says stupid or mean things to you unintentionally while you stand by and try to be supportive and helpful. Were I looking in from his side, I can kind of see it. I still think I might be strong enough, given the chance. This is my last opportunity to try. I feel that if I am so lucky that both babies flip over head down and there are no other unforeseen complications, that will be my sign. That will be my sign that I should go ahead and give natural child birth a shot. The chance to make this special and unique. A chance to prove to myself that I am strong and I can make it, stay awake for it and see it through in a completely different way. A way that used to be the only way. The only way for thousands of years before my time on this earth. I will be in a safe place. Should any complications arise, I will be in expert hands. I may even chicken out and beg for the epidural in the end. I just don't want the choice taken away from me. I want to be in the driver's seat. I want the chance to decide. This will be a memorable experience no matter the outcome. I am not scared. I am almost there. I have my amazing husband and my Mom at my side. I think I can do this.

*** The sequel to this post about the birth experience of my twins is here: I Pushed & They Shoved

Head Over Heels

In March it will have been ten years since the man of my dreams walked into my life and flipped my world upside down. The day I met him is the only time I remember ever being truly speechless. I was not expecting him. I was not ready for him. I was definitely not looking for him. Yet he found me all the same. I am so glad he did.

I was so unhappy. I had given up on my own happiness. I will not go in to the nitty-gritty details of my problems back then because I love my sons and I respect their relationship with their father. I will say that I was holding on for the sake of my two children no matter what it cost me mentally, physically and socially. I had recently started a new job and went back to school. I would go to work during the day and go straight home to the kids when I was done. I did not attempt to build new relationships with my coworkers at first. Over a few months I began to make new friends and become more involved. It was nice to have peers again. I started to believe I was worth something. I was getting my long lost confidence back. It still was not enough of a push.

Then one day in March of 2002, while I was working and minding my own business, my coworker pointed behind me and said, "Look, there's the new guy." I turned around and I couldn't speak. I actually turned a little red in the face. There was an amazing guy walking right by me to go fill out his new hire paperwork. I stood there like an idiot. My coworker thought this was very funny and pointed and laughed at me. I think I even spilled a little clam chowder on her to shut her up. I was in a long term committed relationship. I knew there was nothing I would do about this but I am human and he was gorgeous. A little bit of excitement in an otherwise dull day.

For the next couple of months I got to know him a little better. He was such a great guy and was absorbed into our close knit group of friends very quickly. He fit right in. I was developing a little bit of a crush even. Yikes! I respect committed relationships and I would never cheat on someone. I have always felt very strongly about this for reasons I will not discuss. I remember there was one night we were at work together and I had a psychology project I was working on for college. I interviewed him as one of my subjects and we got to talking afterwards. We admitted to one another that we had crushes on each other. We also discussed how we were both in serious relationships and that our partners were important to us. It was truly a harmless conversation but one I will never forget. It unintentionally changed me in ways I did not know until years later.

Someone actually found me attractive. I was not a used-up, good for nothing, girl with baggage. Someone found me interesting. Just knowing that gave me the strength to admit to myself that I did not like my life; a thought I had been burying deep down inside myself for at least five years. I woke up. I deserved better.  I did not have to settle in my situation for the rest of my life. I tasted change and I wanted more. So I changed it.

April and May of 2002 was the hardest time I have had in my whole life. The majority of the tears I have shed in my lifetime was during those two months. Not only had I decided it was time to leave my partner of seven years and change the lives of my sons forever, I lost my Grandmother and a step-sister during the same time. One to old age and one to suicide. I was a wreck. I was not leaving my Ex to be with this new guy but he did give me a wake up call to re access my world. I hope I never have to experience pain like that ever again.

My life has been uphill ever since. I had no intention of being in a new relationship so quickly after my last had ended. But, within a couple months we were inseparable. It was so easy with him. I decided that I was not going to let what happened in my past jeopardize my future with him. The timing was not our fault. I could not let this wonderful man slip away, I just had to be careful how we proceeded because I had two beautiful young boys to consider and I did not want to put them through any more trauma. I knew he was "the one". I even told a friend that I was going to marry him someday. I didn't introduce him to my boys until October 2002. I had him over for a spaghetti dinner and then he left. We took it slowly with the kids. We agreed that they did not need another father but that a decent male role model is always a good thing. When the boys were home with me, we were apart and when the boys went to their father's, we were together. We made it work.

Fast forward nearly ten years, I still adore him. He is my match in every way; we fit like puzzle pieces. All the pain of my past was worth it just to get me to this place. We were married in June of 2008. We wrote our own vows and one of my main points was that he lets me be the Mom I always wanted to be. That is huge to me. He accepts me for who I am in every way. I am happy everyday to wake up next to him, to share my children with him and to continue to build the life we have. I love you, Allen. Thank you for everything and being you. Beep beep.

Just Ginny

So, my husband giggled at me when he saw which picture I picked to post on my blog. I get it. It is an old picture. Why would I choose such an old picture? Because it is my favorite picture of me ever taken. I was seventeen or eighteen when it was taken back in 1995. This picture represents a time in my life when I had big dreams. I felt unstoppable. I had a clear picture of where I was going and who I was going to be. I had not been sidetracked by life yet. I had not been distracted by responsibility yet. I was ready for almost anything. I am starting to dream again and this picture will stare me in the face and remind me of those forgotten dreams. I like the motivation.

I was going to be a rock star, model, actress, writer, producer, director, starving artist and a waitress in between. I became a mother, wife, Human Resources Administrator, volunteer, karaoke singer and a waitress in between. So close. (smirk)

I am content with where my life has taken me. The last nine years of my life have been truly the best. I have very few regrets. Although, I am ready for some changes. I am ready to exercise a couple long lost, pushed to the side talents.

As far as the picture is concerned, I have changed just a little. I am, obviously, sixteen years older, about fifteen pounds heavier and my hair is quite a bit longer. Not bad after having three beautiful children. Not much to complain about.

Writing this blog is already helping me the way I hoped it would. It gives me a much needed outlet. There is a feeling of pride and accomplishment. I get to share what it is like to be me. To be just Ginny.

I am no writer.

By no means am I a writer. I have many talents and sadly writing has never been one of them. I wish I could write. I have tried and in my mind never succeeded. Nothing worthy of even showing another living soul, in my opinion. I'm full of opinions, ideas, thoughts, secrets even. Never brave enough to just put it out there and let it fly. It has been one of my many Tangerine Dreams, so to speak. By beginning this blog I hope to tap into a little of what I have held back and bottled up. Always too busy with everything and everyone else around me to even bother taking some time for myself and process and feel and wish aloud. Admittedly, worried about what others might think. There are other things besides writing I wish I had the courage to do. Maybe this is my baby step. I have grown so much in the last ten years but I know I can not possibly be done.

This is an opportunity to show my children it's never too late to change, to grow up, to try new things. I am afraid of failing, procrastinating, giving up.

I deserve the time. I have to take some. I hope I do.