Game Time

We managed about six hours of sleep before the phone call; Steph was contracting about a minute apart for a minute each. Shannon and I were forty minutes away, so hurrying was something that could be done carefully. Michael called back a few minutes later to tell us that Steph had required they stop at Shari’s restaurant for breakfast.

Okay. No hurrying needed.

Good thing, too. Today is game day in Corvallis, and all the alumni have come home to root. Traffic was backed up for about three miles over the bridge. It took 90 minutes to make the drive.

And here we are; Steph is contracting a minute or 90 seconds apart, is only communicating at need – her need –

Steph just announced that there would be no more smart-assed comments from the crowd. Michael clenched his jaw, squinched his eyes shut, and shook. I wrote:

“It’s okay to not be in here, if you are having a problem keeping serious. But DON’T jiggle Steph’s elbow while she’s working.”

He wrote back:

“I was so tempted to ask if dumbass comments were ok.”

Then he left. Good boy.

Steph has permitted in the room: me, Shannon, her aunt Theresa, Michael, Zelda, Desiree (Joey’s mom), and Joey. She also has a half-dozen friends that are allowed to poke their heads in and check, but can’t stay for more than a few mintues. It’s a goddamned circus.
Right now everyone but Shannon, Joey, Theresa and I have left to get smoothies. Steph is here, too. She’s waiting for the anasthesiologist to come and give her drugs, after which she plans to love everyone. Steph is dilated to 4, and is wearing the traditional backless hospital lingerie. Her focus (and natural immodesty) is such that she is entirely capable of standing, leaning forward over the bed, swinging her ass back and forth as she rides the next wave, and not be self-aware. She voiced her concerns for the sensibilities of the audience, thus: “If they have problems seeing my ass, they don’t belong in here, anyway.”

Fair enough.

They’ve been playing with a video camera they bought for the occasion. She taped Joey, Joey taped her, they talked about how the morning went and what has been leading up to this point. “And we woke up, but the contractions weren’t going fast enough so Daddy played with my nipples, then we went to breakfast at Shari’s. Everyone knew that I was having contractions. I think I freaked a few people out, but that’s okay. [I interjected, “Why should today be any different?”] When we left we got a round of applause from people in Shari’s, ’cause they knew it was time.”

Another sound bite: “Oh. Ooooooh. Ah-ooooh. Where the hell’s that stadol?” More contractions.

Drugs are here, now. She’s much calmer. The main difference seems to be that she has become less loud, less attentive to anything outside of her. Probably good. How would I know? I’ve never had a labor pain.

Drugs held her for 90 minutes, then she had an epidural. We were all kicked out for the catheterization and the annexing of her spinal cord.

She is now at 4 1/2, fully effaced, station -1…which basically means that she isn’t open enough to spit the kid out, but the kid isn’t fully seated with his head in the pelvic girdle, anyway. They’re going to wait for full seating at the cervix before they consider breaking her water.

Bummer. But with the drugs and the epideral, Steph doesn’t seem to mind as much.

Whoops. In the time it took to type this, her gyn came in and re-checked her – dilated to 7. Things seem to be moving right along. Joey wanted to go out for a walk. Steph told him that, if he was going, go quickly. He was NOT leaving later. He came back in plenty of time.

Epidurals are terrific. Steph is chatty, dilating, and channel surfing through the cable stations. She’s very chipper to have caught the last few scenes of Queen of the Damned, which I can only attribute to the drugs and exertion.

Contractions have tapered off, or aren’t as noticeable anymore. Michael and Shannon have gone on a yarn & sandwich run, leaving me to suffer throught he next movie, Jeepers Creeepers. This kid is going to be born with some very odd issues, just from the entertainment. Forty minutes into the movie, I think I might have some issues. Icky movie.

4:45 — Steph’s at 8, and they’re popping her water. Thar she blows, with a running commentary from Steph explaining how unpleasant it is having the water run down her butt. A sudden splashing noise as she decompresses, and now she’s covered back up.

Small talk, then, suddenly, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m having a baby.”

Joely strolls over to her, smiling, relaxed. “It’s all right. You can change your mind.”

6:25 Steph is pushing lightly, to finish dilating. The fun is nearly over. I’m glad. She seems to be, too.

7:00 …bored…bored…bored…all of us. Sponge-Bob Squarepants is our chief entertainment.

7:09 Sez the gyn: “Start pushin’!”

7:50 Baby is very close to crowning; Steph’s vagina “winks” on her third push out of sets of three.

7:57 Baby crowns.

8:08 Malachi James Swing is on his mother’s chest, at 8 lbs 3 oz and 21 inches. “Oh, God, I have a baby. What are we going to do with a baby?”

I cried more than he did.

4 thoughts on “Game Time”

  1. i just told my dad he’s going to be a granddad; i fed him 2 glasses of wine before breaking the news, then i told him his hair was so dark and luscious, and nowhere near grey!

    i hope my vagina winks when i give birth.

    congratulations 🙂 any pictures?

      1. i have made it my goal to be mysterious. people make up their own stories anyway if not told straight-up what’s going on, and the rumour mill is quite entertaining. people are just so interested in others’ lives.

        so far, so good 🙂 it’s surreal, that’s for sure, but it’s amazing, and even my OB said i seem to be doing very well with it all. which is good, considering the next… 18 years. ha.

        looking forward to your pictures 🙂

        1. Darlin’, you don’t get off the hook with 18 years. They grow up and move away, but if you did a good job, they keep coming back. The good news is that they get to be more fun as they get older.

          Mouthier, but more fun.

          I truly am glad, veryvery, that you’re well. Scary stuff, this.

          Pictures.

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