Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (8 page)

Opening my eyes, I had to squint to see the clock across the bedroom. It was already three in the morning. I was confused from the dream I was having, and I wondered why I had woken up when I had been sleeping so well. I felt a little bit sick. It was coming in waves, and it was more of a sharp pain than nausea. I realized that these pains must be contractions. They started to come every fifteen minutes, and the intensity was a little harsher each time. I quietly wrote the times down on a piece of paper. I didn’t want to wake anyone up until I knew for sure what was going on. I thought it was strange that these contractions didn’t hurt; they were just uncomfortable. I was extremely calm, and I lay in bed thinking about how bad it could possibly be to give birth. A strange calm came over me.

Finally, when 6:00 a.m. rolled around, I needed to get out of bed and do something to relieve my discomfort. What was worrying me the most was that the contractions were now only five minutes apart. I didn’t want to put up a fuss and panic though. I didn’t want to startle or worry my mom or Josh, mainly because I wanted to take a shower before I went to the hospital. I thought it was very important for me to be clean and primped. This was a special occasion and I was not about to show up in pajamas. I knew that family would be invading the hospital room and snapping tons of pictures, and I did not want my baby to one day see these pictures and how horrible I looked!

“Josh, can you go ask my mom if it’s okay for me to take a bath and also tell her I am having contractions every five minutes,” I quietly, yet firmly, requested. I didn’t want to be mean, but in order to get Josh to fully wake up I had to display a serious side. He was a deep sleeper. “Yeah, sweetie, I’ll be right back,” he said as he bounced up from the floor, flew out of my bedroom and down the stairs.

Only thirty seconds went by before he came back up. “She said as long as your water didn’t break you can take a bath.” Thank God. I just needed to change my position and do something to distract myself. The pain still wasn’t too bad, but I felt the increasing intensity with each contraction. I submerged myself in the bath and it was heaven for about five minutes. The contractions were coming much closer together. The relaxing bath may have triggered this. I quickly stood up and dried off. I sat in front of the mirror and quickly put my makeup on. I really wanted to dry and style my hair, but I knew that I could not spend that kind of time at the moment. I twisted my wet hair up into a bun on the top of my head and changed into a comfortable sweat outfit. Josh followed behind me as I walked down the stairs. My mom met us at the bottom. “Elizabeth, do you want to ride with me to the hospital so I can hurry up and get you checked in while Josh packs up the overnight bag for the stay?” she asked. “Yes. I was going to ask if we could do that anyway. But we should go because they are kind of close now.” I tried to say casually, but my strained voice gave me away. On the drive to the hospital the contractions were more intense, and it was miserable sitting in the upright position that the passenger seat forced me to be in. I really had to focus on my breathing at that point. These contractions were just too strong. If I hadn’t focused on my breathing, I could have panicked.

At last we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I hurried (almost sprinted) into the entrance. I had to go to the admissions office first, but once I sat in the waiting room, I just couldn’t handle waiting around. The older lady holding my stack of records kindly instructed me to go ahead and get over to labor and delivery while my mother finished up for me. She must have recognized the look of agony on my face that appeared every few minutes. I was thankful that I was free to go.

“You’re six centimeters dilated and fifty percent effaced,” the nurse excitedly announced. I was expecting to be maybe two or three centimeters at the most. I have heard numerous stories from women about how long and tedious their first labors were. Lying on my side in the hospital bed, I looked at the clock and it was eight-thirty. I didn’t understand where all the time had gone. It felt like I had been in my bath five minutes earlier. Maybe the inability to keep track of time is nature’s way of helping women deal with pain. Pain alone is already difficult; having to endure pain with a sense of time to accompany it could be a recipe for disaster. I was quite the pro at meditation by this time. I had plenty of practice from all the times I avoided throwing up. I transformed myself into a deep trance toward the end of my labor. I closed my eyes, and as each contraction peaked, I envisioned myself standing barefoot on the beach as the waves rose, peaked, and crashed down. The waves eased my anxiety immensely. My subconscious did not know what to expect with the foreign, yet natural, forces of labor, but I very well knew what to expect with the waves of the ocean. There was a break every time, like my contractions, and a rhythmic movement but never continuous.

Flashing back to the beach, some of my favorite memories were running barefoot and free as my grandparents tried to keep up. My Grandpa sat me on the counter in the motorhome as the first rays of sun glistened from the crashing ocean and helped me drink a small cup of orange juice. I must have only been three years old. Falling asleep to the peaceful waves and reacting to the forces of our planet is an experience I’ll never forget. That sound carried me along my journey of bringing a new life into the world. It was nature working within itself. Even at fifteen years old, I wasn’t afraid. I felt like it was okay and it was supposed to be happening.

Josh and my mother were the only family in the room. I had a group of friends, along with my twin, sitting in the waiting room. Lilah was still at work, but she had called my mother to say she was heading our way. The clock on the wall said ten-fifteen as the doctor walked in to assess my progress. Rolling onto my back for the exam was horrible. As I was contracting, it was nearly impossible to meditate my way to relief. After all, the doctor was intrusively breaking my water. “Holy shit! That is so gross,” I whined in shock. There had to have been over a gallon of liquid that came crashing onto my legs and bed! Doctor Howard was trying not to laugh. He was about my mother’s age and was very well known in the small town. He carried himself calmly and confidently, which was exactly what I needed to see. I needed a certain, unspoken reassurance and it was as if he could read my mind. “Rub my feet!” I screamed to Josh. I needed something, anything, to distract me from the pain. “I think I feel the head,” I said, with panic in my voice.

“You’re ready to have this baby,” the nurse said.

Completely unaware of what to expect, I welcomed the idea of finally bringing my baby into the world. Pain was no longer the dominating thought. Getting to meet my baby for the first time was far more important. For the entire pregnancy I planned to be tough and deliver my baby “naturally” without an epidural. My mother had twins naturally, so of course I could handle the pain of just one baby. At fifteen, I had no way of even slightly predicting the pain of a natural birth. Of course, I knew somewhere deep down that it must not be pleasant. I also did not know the extent of this unpleasantness.

Josh was holding my right leg, my mom was supporting my head, and a young nursing assistant was holding my left leg. I was more concerned with down south (uh-hum) being groomed enough to avoid my peer to the left becoming grossed out. Sure, I was thinking about the pain, but this girl looked familiar enough to the point that I wondered if she had recently graduated from my high school. I was thinking about how embarrassing it would be if she came to the realization that she knew me outside of the hospital room. I hope I remembered to shave, I was thinking, as I was having a thirty second break from the nearly continuous contractions. My fear of embarrassment quickly vanished as the next contraction forced a pressure on me that I had never known to be possible. As much as I wanted to stay calm and push this baby out while still maintaining my dignity, the pain forced a moan from my mouth that was even foreign to me. This moan was not voluntary, it was nature taking its course by whatever means necessary, to keep my body and mind from going into total shock from the pain. The moaning was a minor release of the overbearing pressure. I remember thinking that if I were to grip my mother’s fingers tight enough and hard enough, maybe I could transfer the painful energy over to her instead. Focusing on my forceful squeeze was also a slight release to my pain.

Besides my discomfort and the awkward, completely foreign, sounds that emerged from me, the room was peacefully silent - as silent as it could safely be with medical personnel communicating.

The doctor’s voice broke my inner silence. “Now this is what we call the ring of fire, Elizabeth. It’s going to be very uncomfortable, but it is the shortest part, okay?” “Sure,” I responded through clenched teeth. Like I had a choice anyway! The only fix to this pain, which felt more like a soccer ball making its way out, was to deliver this baby. After Dr. Howard explained that he was going to be performing an episiotomy and first had to numb my perineum with a local anesthesia, I rolled my eyes and slammed my head back onto the hospital bed. What the hell is a perineum anyway? It sounds like one of those gross words - like “Volvo,” a car I will never drive because of its resemblance to “vulva.” I almost laughed to myself. The medical terminology was getting annoying. Out of an unexpected nowhere, a great relief came over me. The pressure was still there, but it was lifted up from the deep, torturous hell I had previously been feeling. “Umm…did you just cut me with those scissors?” I shamelessly asked. I was truly curious. It seemed like a mutilation of such extremes would be horribly painful, but was actually quite the opposite. I’ll put it plain and simple: it felt good. Okay…I said it.

Lilah made her way into the hospital room just as I was about to deliver. She looked scared as she ran to the other side of the room, being forced to cross paths with my gaping vagina. I couldn’t handle any more of this drama with my legs up in the air and everything completely exposed. I hated feeling vulnerable. This was definitely the most vulnerable I had ever felt in my entire fifteen years of existence. With another contraction coming full force, I took a deep breath and pushed with all the strength of my existence. This was the last push before I felt my baby finally exit my body.

I felt as if I would float off of the hospital bed at any moment. It was the most enormous feeling of relief I had ever experienced. This baby, that we had all been waiting so long to meet, was finally here. As the nurse wiped the blood and white greasy stuff off of her little body, I was finally able to look at my baby’s tiny face.

“Oh my God, I’m going to cry!” Lilah exclaimed, choking back the start of a sob. My mom was at the baby vital station with my new baby snapping as many pictures as she could with her newly purchased disposable camera.

The nurse set her on my now un-pregnant belly, and for a few moments I was in shock. I could only rub her head and make sure that she did not fall off the bed while I was attempting to absorb what was really going on. I noticed that she smelled funny, and I wondered if anyone else in the room noticed this.

A little cry finally emerged from her hard-at-work lungs, as they were trying with all their might to offer her the first few breaths of her life. In a daze, my memory still remains blank except for noticing that she had my lips, a head of beautiful, soft hair, and the sweetest cry I had ever heard.

Before I knew what was happening, my hospital room was flooded with visitors including Josh’s family, my high school friends, and my twin sister, Merri. I was even shocked when Josh’s mom and her fiancé both gave me a hug and kiss on the forehead. It made me happy to know that so many people actually cared enough and wanted to be a part of this precious experience. A short time later, my mother and Lilah returned with a lunch of fresh strawberries and lasagna from a bakery that I so dearly loved.

After the visitors left, Josh went to announce the news to his buddies and coworkers who lived down the street. I finally had time to be alone with my baby in silence. As she was peacefully sleeping in her bassinet next to my bed, I reached over to gently rub her head. Tears began rolling down my face. I allowed myself to sob with joy.

Just looking at my new baby girl brought tears to my eyes that were completely uncontrollable. I was so grateful to have this little angel who looked exactly like me. She made little creaky-door noises and was so perfect. I had no idea that I could possibly love something so deeply. I had no idea that something so small could fill my heart with so much happiness. She was beautiful and perfect, and I had no doubt in my mind that she had come from heaven. God had sent her to me, and my faith was given strength and certainty because of this. She was mine.

I picked up my little girl and brought her close to my chest. Chloe Lynn would be her name. Weighing seven pounds and 19 inches long, she was perfect in every way. It was so hard to imagine who she would become as she grew older. For now, I didn’t care. I wanted everything to stay just as it was right then, in that very moment forever. I had never felt such a rush of euphoria in my life. I held onto my baby girl until I was ready to fall asleep. I gently put Chloe back into her bassinette. I realized that it was nearing eleven o’clock at night and I wondered why Josh hadn’t returned yet to get to know his new little girl. As the clock continued to tick I was becoming angry and sad. I fell asleep with a bittersweet feeling in my heart. The bitterness was because the father of my new baby was nowhere to be found.

About an hour after dozing off, I was rudely awakened by the sound of Josh stumbling through my hospital room door. A strange woman followed behind him. I felt rage come over me. My face must have been turning a deeper red with every passing second. Confused, disoriented, and flat-out pissed off, I could not understand for the life of me why Josh had decided to get wasted tonight and why he thought it would be okay to allow some strange woman to follow him back to the hospital room. Trying with all my might to contain my mounting rage, words still spilled out of me, “What is going on? Where have you been? I have been waiting here by myself for hours.” The way Josh looked at me as I was speaking clearly told me that, once again, he was totally trashed.

The woman behind Josh suddenly stepped into the room and started speaking even faster than I had moments earlier, “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself right away, my name is Devalin. I’m a friend of Josh’s mom - isn’t she great by the way? Anyway, I gave Josh a ride because I didn’t think he should drive. Oh yeah, I also wanted to ask - do you want me to sneak you a margarita? I mean it must have been some hard work you just went through, huh? There’s nothing like a cold refreshing drink to take that pain away!” This hideous woman began hysterically cackling. No wonder she was a friend of Hilda, I thought. Birds of a feather…

Her obnoxious laugh woke up Chloe. I practically lunged at the bassinet to retrieve my daughter before one of these drunks attempted to touch her. I was so incredibly tired and dealing with them more exhausting. “No, thank you. I am actually pretty tired and need to get back to sleep. Thanks for dropping Josh off though.” I said with a short and strong tone. The strange lady got the hint and left. I had never been so irritated. Josh always seemed to ruin special moments with his drinking habit.

I attempted to explain to Josh why I was upset and why my feelings were hurt, but he was too drunk to comprehend. It was useless talking to him. It was like talking to a pet rock! He curled up on the chair in the corner of the room and passed out. I fell asleep staring at my baby girl, trying to sooth my deep fear that Josh and I may not work out. This baby was nothing but innocent and pure and Josh’s behavior was the complete opposite.

The next morning I woke up to the nurse bringing in a tray of oatmeal and juice that reminded me of the breakfasts I was served at school. I was ravishingly hungry: much more than I had realized. It was nice to have the freedom to eat as much as I wanted without having to worry about it coming back up.

Chloe had been a perfect angel throughout the night. She woke only twice to a dirty diaper, which was extremely awkward for me to handle. Her little legs were so tiny that it was borderline scary trying to change her diaper. I was afraid of hurting her. The first time around, to my luck, the nurse came in to check my vitals. She must have noticed that I was struggling because she graciously stepped in to show me that changing a newborn’s diaper was more of a mind-over-matter issue. The second time around was still scary, but I managed to get it done. Josh, of course, was no help as he was lost in his drunken slumber.

It was about 8:30 in the morning and, with my luck, the mean nurse from my school walked in. Nurse Val. I put on my fake smile and greeted her as I usually did. “Congratulations,” she said, practically speaking through her nose. “Are you going to breastfeed?” She was so damn nosey all the time, and I really did not want to deal with her at the moment.              

“Thanks, and yes, I plan to nurse her.” I replied, emphasizing the word “nurse.” I was so sick of terms involving anatomy that were spoken so medically correct. It was annoying, and I just wanted my world to be back to normal - as normal as it could possibly be with a new baby.

Nurse Val asked me to show her how I would nurse Chloe while she sat on the edge of my bed. I thought it was odd and totally uncomfortable, but I agreed. She was trying to make sure I had the technique correct, but I couldn’t possibly focus on technique when a woman in her forties that was not even close to me was staring at my boob! After dealing with Nurse Val for half an hour, she finally left me in peace. Thank God that’s over, I thought to myself. At that point I was ready to go home. I wanted my own bed, my own jammies, and my own space. I wanted to bring my baby home for the first time, get her settled, and just maybe, get back into some sort of normal routine.

The only problem I had to face at that point was Josh. If he thought getting wasted on the night of his daughter’s birth was okay, he would surely be getting wasted whenever he wanted from that point forward without a second thought.

“Josh!” I demanded his attention, not caring he was hung-over and looking pathetic in the corner of the hospital room. He looked my way confirming that I had his attention. “Choose - it’s Chloe and me or alcohol. I am not kidding. You haven’t even spent any time with us, and I just gave birth to your baby! If you refuse to stay sober, we are done. It’s over. So choose and I want an answer now.”

I was worried about making Josh choose the booze or his immediate family, but it had to be done. I was scared of what his answer was going to be. I really did not want to do this alone. I knew that I could not do this alone. I wanted Josh to be in our lives forever, but the excessive drinking just had to stop. There was no question in my mind.

To my surprise, Josh got out of the chair with a concerned look on his face. For the first time, he actually looked as if he felt bad for what he had done. Walking to the side of the bed, he grabbed my hand and apologized. “Sweetie, I am really sorry. I am an idiot and I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said with a voice full of regret. “I don’t ever want to lose you. I love you so much, and I love our beautiful daughter too.” “Well, Josh, you’re on thin ice. I am really getting frustrated with your crap, and I don’t know what to do anymore,” I said - trying not to display the ounce of empathy I had left for him.

Out of nowhere, I heard a startling explosion.