Evan Reece DeRuyter was born Sunday, June 24, 2007, at 2:25 AM. At 41 weeks pregnant, I didn’t actually believe that I was going into labor when my water broke late on Saturday afternoon. Within an hour the contractions started and all I could do was keep telling myself that it would only be within 24 hours that I would finally get to meet my baby.
When my contractions were close enough together, Bryan drove me to the hospital. We arrived at approximately 10 PM and they checked me over. I was told it was going to be a very long night because my cervix was not cooperating with the rest of my body. My nurse called my doctor and I was ordered to walk laps around the women’s ward. Those were the hardest steps I ever had to take. Every woman knows that labor is going to be painful, but you don’t really know until you experience it.
Bryan, Bobbie (my doula), and I got back to my room around 11 PM and from there it gets pretty fuzzy for me. I was completely incoherent. I remember my entire body shaking with the pain as I cried, “I can’t do this.” I finally consented to a pain reliever administered by IV. Then I slept. I didn’t actually sleep; I went in and out of consciousness. The pain was only muffled.
I don’t know what time I awoke, but Bobbie and Bryan were watching my contractions on a monitor. By this time the drugs had worn off and I was in even more pain. I was told later by my doctor that I had developed toxemia and my blood pressure was very high. This apparently sped up my labor. My nurse asked me to lie on my left side, but I refused and tried to get up. I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. “Number one or number two?” she asked. “Number two.” She checked me again and then informed us that it was time to page the doctor.
Here, again, I go in and out. I remember Bobbie whispering to me that they were turning on the heat lamps for my baby. I told my nurse I wanted an epidural. “Nope. It’s too late for that,” she said flatly. “WHAT?!?” Bryan tells everyone that I looked like I was about to cry. Somewhere in those semi-conscious moments, Bryan and Bobbie took turns coaching me, giving me water, and placing cool rags on my face and neck. I was given an oxygen mask but it was never hooked up to the tank. I’m not sure how much it helped.
I delivered my son naturally…against my will. I can’t remember the pain the way I could the day after I had him, but I remember thinking and praying. “Dear God, please help me. If it hurts anymore than this, I am going to die.” And then I snapped at my doctor, “I don’t know what you’re doing down there, but it REALLY HURTS!” I even asked if they could just grab the baby’s head and pull it out. Apparently, it doesn’t work that way.
They pulled him out and were cleaning him off when I looked down. No one announced, “It’s a boy!” I just saw it. “It’s a boy,” I said to no one in particular. I turned to Bryan, who was grinning like a fool. “We have a son,” he said. They placed him on my chest but he wasn’t crying, so they took him away. As soon as he was out of my arms, he let out a loud wail. I looked up weakly as the doctor continued working on me. Bobbie stood next to me, comforting me. Bryan went with the nurse and the baby. “Is he healthy?” I asked. Yes, he was very healthy.
Exhaustion washed over me. I was beyond the pain. I know Bryan called our relatives and he even had them put the baby’s footprints in our baby book. I know at some point I held my son and was cleaned up and put into another room. But I didn’t care about any of it. I had my baby. And he was strong and he was healthy.
7 pounds, 1.3 ounces, 20.5 inches long. His eyes are the blue-grey of all newborns and his hair is a blondish-brown. He has a dainty pointed chin and long fingers.
Today I feel good. I feel strong and healthy again. In some ways I feel like it’s the day after prom. I’ve been looking forward to this day for months and now that it’s happened, I feel the inevitable emptiness that follows. My body is my own once again, but I no longer recognize it. I don’t know the me inside anymore. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t him. Words cannot describe the pride and happiness you feel when you bring a life into the world.
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