She almost lost it with the PIT. Six sessions with Jane, months spent practicing her exercises every night before bed, and she almost lost it with the PIT. The strongest, brightest, most stubborn and self-possesed woman I’ve ever met, and she almost lost it with the PIT. When we were on our honeymoon in Scotland and she had to make it up the long climb south of Pitlochry, she did it. When Michael dragged her on the 12-mile-with-a-30-lb-pack death hike on the Art Loeb trail, she did it. But now, for the first time Michael can remember, she is saying “I don’t think I can do this”. And then she’s saying “I can’t do this…” and Michael’s heart stops for a moment because he has never seen his wife admit defeat on anything that she was determined to do. “… with the PIT.” There’s a feeling of relief as Mary calls Lisa, and Lisa says to stop the PIT. Soon we’re doing better.
We didn’t cover this in the last post, but if your membranes rupture and you aren’t having regular strong contractions, you really need to be induced. Hence our post-pancake trip to the hospital. And the standard was of inducing labor is Pitossin (Michael can’t say or spell this word well, so we’ll just use the medical abbreviation of PIT). And Betsey is pretty determined to have a natural birth (within reason), hence the sessions with Jane and all the practice, and natural birth and PIT don’t really go together so well. But the PIT was stopped, and 20 minutes or so after the PIT, Betsey had settled (standing, supporting herself against Michael) down some, and the fetal monitor was removed and that meant that Betsey could get into the tub.
Now, “Water World” reminds most everyone of a very bad Kevin Costner film of the same name, but as regards a delivery room with a very large bathtub, its a very good thing. So Betsey spent an hour, two hours, I’m not really sure here, laboring in the tub, with Lisa periodically checking her progress, Michael holding her arms and trying to make her laugh and smile between contractions, and Jane brining her drinks and applying counterpressure to her back during strong contractions. Once she’s complete and feeling strong pressure, she moves back to the bed to begin pushing. She’s pushing here for an hour or so. Once again, Michael is holding her, trying to make her laugh and smile between contractions (favorite line: “C’mon honey, make L Ron Hubbard proud and have a silent birth”). Jane is bringing her water, cold washclothes, and fanning her face. Then Lisa tells us she can see our boy’s head, and very soon I can see his head, in fact, he “turns the corner” so fast that Lisa barely has time to get a glove on and catch the little guy. And then she places him on Betsey’s stomach, and Betsey wakes from her birthing trance, says “oh my god!” and begins to weep. And Michael is crying, too. And even Lisa and Jane look a little teary (or at least we like to think so).
And there’s this mad rush around them to administer all the tests that need to be administered to test all the things that need to be tested, but Michael and Betsey are nearly oblivious, because they are focused on this marvelous boy lying on his mother’s stomach, already sucking at her breast.
Post a Comment