I complain at lot about my oldest son. Sometimes I say, “Boy, did someone drop you on your head when you were born? Why don’t you listen? Why do you talk so much?” Then I remember. It was me. I dropped him. He wasn’t even a day old. But I swear it wasn’t my fault.
I will start by telling you that I was in labor for 60 hours when I finally dilated to 10 cm. The doctor lifted up my legs to tell me to push and said, “She’s not going to be able to do this, her pelvis is too small. Get her to the ER.” I was so relieved. (My vag was not going to get all busted up. It was like insurance if my husband and I ever got divorced.) On the other hand, I thought for a minute, “You guys didn’t think about this sooner, couldn’t I have had this kid two days ago?” No one answered. I was whisked down to the ER.
Apparently, something was happening to my baby’s heartbeat and he had to be taken out really fast. They did not have time to increase my epidural meds and they started cutting my stomach. “I can feel it! I can feel it!” I screamed. “I can’t breathe. I can’t feel it!” It was like one of those horrible Discovery Health shows I watch. Then I heard the voice of God, (probably my husband) say, “Can’t you just knock her out?” And they did.
When I woke up I was in my room with my tiny baby in the bassinet beside me… screaming. My legs were numb. My mouth was itching like I was having some kind of allergic reaction. My husband was nowhere to be found. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I pushed the call button on the side of the bed.
The nurse explained that my legs would get feeling by the morning, my mouth would feel better in a few hours and I’d also be very tired from all the drugs. Oh, and the baby was crying because he was hungry. She showed me where the bottles were. (Look, if my vagina was going to stay “nice”, I may as well keep the boobs good too, right?) Then the nurse went to leave the room.
“Aren’t you going to take him so I can rest?” I asked.
“It’s better if the baby stays with you so you can bond.”
“But I can’t move and I’m all high from the drugs.” I told her, trying to change her mind.
“Just buzz if you need us.”
With that it was just me and my son. I fed him and then rested him on my gigantic boobs. He smelled so good from his bath. He snuggled his cute little head in the crook of my neck and fell asleep. It was so peaceful and comfortable. I closed my eyes to take in and remember the moment.
I have no idea how much time had passed, but clearly I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, my baby was gone. I sat up really quickly and saw that he wasn’t in his bassinet. “That nurse must have come in and taken him,” I thought. “I’m not going to tell her I’m awake. I’m still kind of tired.” I flipped on the television.
I watched American Idol. An entire episode. When it ended, I figured that I better ask for my child back. I probably should be bonding with him. Besides, I was feeling a lot better. I went to push the “nurse” button on the side of the bed when I saw a baby blanket with little brown eyes crammed next to it. It was my son! He was stuck! Yes, he was stuck between the arm rail of the bed and the mattress. How could this have happened?! He must have rolled off of my ginormous breasts and was saved from falling off the bed by the rail. Why hadn’t he cried? Was he dead? I was going to jail. I was going to jail and my baby was dead.
I quickly picked him up. He yelped. (Thank god he wasn’t dead. And as long as no one saw this I’m pretty sure I couldn’t go to jail.) I kissed him once, then threw him into the bassinet. I was pretty sure I should not be touching him anymore.
I paged the nurse. I must have hit the button twenty times. “Can I help you?” said the nurse. “Yes.” I said. “I think you need to take my baby for a little I am just so tired and I keep falling in and out of sleep. I don’t want anything to happen to him if I just pass out.” (I hoped I wasn’t too obvious; although, she shouldn’t have left me with him originally. Couldn’t I sue her for that?) I guess she sensed some kind of nervous tone in my voice because she just looked at me and wheeled the baby out of my room to a place he’d be much safer.
I couldn’t believe what happened. I swore to myself that for the next 18 years I would never slip up again. My first day as a parent wasn’t going so well but I was determined to make up for it for the rest of his life.
Is it my fault that my child acts kind of kooky? I still blame his father’s genetics, after all, he didn’t hit the ground.