The Birthing of Maggie Nicole

Yesterday on my run it occurred to me that I never did detail the magic that was the birth of Ms. Maggie Nicole McCall. In an effort to correct this huge injustice, and also let her understand what exactly she did to me on March 23, 2009, I submit the following.

After eight weeks of bed rest, four weeks of wondering if she would come early, the due date of March 14, 2009 came and went. This did not surprise me since her brother was eleven days overdue, and I was still hoping for a St. Patty’s Day baby. At my doctor’s appt on March 16, I was asked if I wanted to be induced. No doctor, I would rather continue my life as the world's largest woman not currently in a circus. Of course, induce me. Unfortunately, St. Patrick’s Day was booked. This was probably for the best considering a daughter named Maggie McCall born on St. Patrick’s Day is just screaming for hospitalization during a future twenty-first birthday party. The next date available was Thursday, March 19. It was during this appointment I was told that my cervix was 100% effaced and dilated 4 cm and basically my baby would be coming at any moment. However, they did not know Maggie “I love my womb” McCall, because on Thursday morning at 6:00 a.m. as instructed, I called the hospital. If you have never been pregnant, let me tell you that 40 plus weeks of pregnancy without a baby does something to the mind and spirit. It is an anxiety mixed with zero patience and the slightest bit of crazy. I gave the nurse my information and she told me “Sorry, but we are really busy, call back at 9:00 a.m.” So I did. I was then greeted with the information that there was no way I would be induced today. It was here when my I had a psychotic break, as I put the phone down, went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and cried the howls only the overly pregnant can make. My doctor called later in the day to say that she was sorry, but there was nothing they can do, and my new induction date was Monday. She also said she thought I would not go over the weekend. Placing bets? Correct! On Monday, I called again and this time got the okay to come. Hooray - baby exit, stage vagina. Also it should be noted that if I was denied admittance, I would have gotten a coat hanger. Just saying.

To the hospital we went. Surprisingly, we were given the very room we were going to have Owen in before it was discovered that the TV did not work and there was an upgrade to birthing room Shangri-la. But I was fine with this room, because this bitch was getting her eviction notice. The plan was to break my water, because I was already so dilated and effaced, labor would start pretty soon after. Yippee.

I was offered an epidural and since I vividly remember my OB/GYN up to her elbows inside me after my placenta with Owen detached I wholeheartedly said yes. However, since with my first epidural and a puncture of my spinal fluid that in turn created the worst mind numbing headache known to man, I was cautious. I told the anesthesiologist exactly what happened, and he said okay. Also he wanted to know the doctor’s name, which I did not know, because I am pretty sure when you do puncture the spinal fluid, the other anesthesiologists think you are a fucking retard. This guy however claimed to be “super good.” And I was all “Okay, buddy, whatever.”

It is here that I should also mention our nurse. Because I was 100% effaced, 4 cm dilated and this was my second baby, it was thought I would “go fast” when my water was broken. This nurse was assigned to me, and only me. And that nurse had no sense of humor. In fact, at one point when John, his mother and I were all cracking jokes, she said to us “Oh, I get it, you are funny people” in a heavy Asian accent and a look of complete scorn. Yes, lady, we are funny people, now do me a favor and get the funny progeny out of my funny vagina.

So back to the epidural (get it, “back”?). The numbed me accordingly. And Mr. Expert got to work. After what I can only guess was forty-five minutes, twenty plus pokes and me sweating profusely in pain, he decided to abandon the space where you usually put the needle and go one above. Guess what people? Epidurals are actually not that bad and only take two minutes. Seems in addition to having a freakishly long back, I also have an “elusive” space between my L4 and L5, and that he recommended in the future they go in L3 and L4. As if I am going to have any more kids asshole.

After my epidural, they came in to break my water. Do you know they break your water with what pretty much looks like a big crochet hook? So honestly, I could have gone up there with a wire hanger and been fine. It was a breeze. Okay, contractions. Let’s go! We waited, and waited. There was nothing. No blip on the Contract-In-Nator. Nothing but a steady line of you will never have this baby. It was here that my nurse started to get a bit pissed. She would come in, look at us funny people, and then silently swear to herself as to why I was not going into labor. I mean I was 4 cm dilated, 100% effaced and they broke my water three hours ago. Then she mentioned the magic word “pitocin”. Do you want pitocin? Hell yes, I want pitocin. And then it happened. Contractions. Glorious, sweet, wonderful contractions. But the Contract-In-Nator was not recording them, but I sure as hell was feeling them. It was then decided that the baby would have internal monitors because they could not get an accurate reading on her heartbeat. This was about thirty minutes after the contractions had started, and as they reached in to put them on Maggie’s head, it was discovered I was fully dilated. Have I mentioned to you how much I adore the inventor of Pitocin? I am pretty sure both Maggie and Owen would still be in my uterus at this moment playing a game of pinochle if not for its invention. As our nurse fluttered about the room, happy to do something other than try to understand our humor and roll her eyes at my belly, I was happy. Truly happy that this pregnancy was coming to an end, and I would finally see Maggie. They then told me to do a practice push, so that they could determine my pushing ability. I pushed, and then the nurse said “Stop, I am calling your doctor.” That is right, I had that kid’s head pretty much out with one push, and my doctor had to race over so that she could say to me, “Okay, Cassie, push.” I did and Maggie was out. Two pushes bitches!

John told me that basically Maggie came out with a face of “Hello? What the hell? Oh my god!” And the tears came, and they put her on my belly. I gazed upon the back of her head full of dark hair while John and his mom gushed over her beauty. I then became progressively pissed off, as evidenced in the photo below.

Because Owen had pooped himself, and I had a detached placenta I did not see him and pretty much thought I was going to die. This time, I carried Girlzilla for 40 weeks, 9 days and 8 weeks of bed rest and all I got to see was the god damn back of her head. But then I did see her, and she was absolutely gorgeous. (Have I told you that people say we look alike? Take that as you will.).

Maggie Nicole McCall, born in two pushes on March 23, 2009 at 3:58 p.m. to “funny people.”