“Ellie,” Kayne snaps at me. “Not even funny when it’s a joke.”
“I’m not joking!” I scream as another wave of pain hits.
“Hopefully, it will be over soon.” She measures my cervix again. “Oh!” Her face perks up. “It looks like we need to page the doctor. You’re fully dilated.” She smiles, removing her latex gloves. “As soon as he gets here, you can start pushing. Hang on for a few more minutes.”
That seems like an unbearable amount of time.
The pain is constant now, just a steady stream of agony.
“Ellie.” My doctor walks into the room smiling brightly. I’m glad someone is in a good mood.
The OB practice I go to has several doctors, all of whom I met and could potentially deliver the baby depending who was on the floor. Luckily, my main doctor is at the hospital today.
“So, looks like we’re ready.” He pulls up a chair and sits right in front of my wide-open legs. I have been told childbirth is beautiful and wondrous, but up until now, I’ve felt more like a lab rat, poked and prodded with my lady bits on display than an excited mother-to-be.
“Okay, Ellie. We’re going to push,” Dr. Hanini tells me. “On three.”
“Okay.”
“One. Two. Three.” I push with all my might, hoping the baby comes out on the first try.
“Good. Relax.” Dr. Hanini is in his late forties, has golden brown skin, and is native to Hawaii. I connected with him the minute he walked into the room. He just has this wonderful calm energy and the nicest bedside manner. Even Kayne likes him, which is saying a lot since he’s seen my vagina just as much as my husband has over the last nine months.
“Again, Ellie.” I push once more, squeezing Kayne’s hand for dear life.
“Come on, baby, you can do this.” Kayne is peering down over my legs to see what’s going on.
“Can you see anything yet?” I ask, drained already.
“Nothing, not yet,” he tells me.
“Gotta keep pushing,” the doctor encourages me.
And I do, for over two excruciating hours.
“WHY WON’T HE COME OUT!”I’m crying by this point, exhausted and ready to pass out.
“A little more, Ellie. You need to hold on a little more,” Dr. Hanini urges me to keep going.
“I can’t. I’m so tired,” I protest, nearly delirious.
“Ellie, come on. Strong enough, remember?” Kayne wipes some sweat away from my brow and feeds me some ice chips. “You’ve been through worse than this.”
“Okay,” I pant, determined to push this kid out.
With a deep breath, I summon the little bit of energy I have left and push again. It feels like something gives way and suddenly there is a little less pressure.
“Good, Ellie. His head is out!” Dr. Hanini exclaims, and then his expression turns grim. “Stop. Stop pushing.”
“What? I can’t stop!” Now that the baby has momentum it feels like I no longer have control. My body is on autopilot.
“Fetal heart rate is dropping.”
“What?” I look back and forth between Kayne and the doctor. Both their faces are expressionless, but Kayne’s eyes are wild.
“What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“Ellie, try to relax. The cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck,” one of the nurses informs me in a palliative tone.
