Unstuffing the Turkey
by Victoria Vane
My most memorable Thanksgiving ever was November 24, 1994. I was about 11 months pregnant (i.e. big as a whale) and just sitting down to dinner at my Mom’s house. I don’t think I’d even taken the first bite of food when my labor pains began. At first I just sat quietly holding my belly, thinking it was just the usual cramping that comes and goes in the later weeks of pregnancy, but I still took a peek at my watch. The pains began repeating about ten minutes apart.
After the fourth “episode” I was growing uneasy and pushed my plate away. The next contraction was strong enough to make me gasp. At that point I finally had my hubby’s attention. “Sweetie, you’d better take your pie to go,” I said. “I think it’s time to take me to the hospital now. ” We were about an hour away from where I was supposed to deliver.
Unfortunately, things went really slow after that. I spent the entire night walking the halls between bouts of excruciating pains, but by mid-morning still hadn’t dilated past 3cm. They were about to send me back home when the doctor took pity and decided to induce. After administering the pitocin, he told me it would be at least three or four hours before I’d be dilated enough to deliver. Everyone left my room after that, including hubby to get some food.
Fifteen minutes later, I felt something weird and rang the nurse. She came in, checked me and exclaimed “Don’t push!!”
Apparently the weird sensation was the baby’s head coming out! Things moved VERY fast after that! She paged the doctor and I phoned my hubby who said he jumped the median to make a u-turn and almost got into a wreck on his way back. Thankfully, he and the doctor both arrived in time. I delivered Brandon about fifteen minutes later!
My “baby” turned twenty years old today.