Birth

In all of my seventy years of life I cannot remember ever having witnessed an actual birth. This may sound unusual to those who know me, because I am a nurse. In training, my obstetrical rotation was limited. I am a male, tall, and burly. Other than a husband, I wasn’t the type of person that many women wanted to share that special and miraculous moment. Most of my caring was pre-delivery or post-partum. I also ran as an EMT with a local ambulance crew for several years. I was raised in the country, not on a farm. We had pets and other animals, but none were pregnant and delivered while I was around.

I wasn’t able to view the birth of my own children. With my wife Cindy, our first child, Amanda, I wasn’t allowed.  She worked days and I worked nightshift. We couldn’t attend childbirth classes. That was a must back then. The day before Amanda’s birth, we visited the doctor. Cindy came out of the office crying and depressed. “He told me it could be another two weeks.” We drove home in silence.

That evening she started with mild contractions, but with the doctor’s prediction and my work schedule, I left her in the capable hands of her father, “Bud” Morrison. No sooner had I arrived at Frick Hospital where I worked and gotten deep into the care of the clients of our 40 bed unit, when I got a call from the obstetrics unit saying Cindy was there and in labor. Every spare moment, I would leave the floor to visit. I finished my shift at 7 a.m. and continued my vigil until early evening when Amanda was born. I couldn’t be there for the birth because of those absent childbirth classes.

With our second child Andrew I was with Cindy most of the doctor’s visits and during her labor, but was chased from the room. With no childbirth classes again, I was not being able to witness his birth.

Things really got crazy with the birth of our third child, Anna. Cindy developed pre-eclampsia. A condition will usually happen with a first child, if it happens at all. For some reason, toxins and fluids accumulate causing the mother’s blood pressure to rise to dangerous levels. The treatment was bed rest. Bed rest was nearly impossible having two children under the age of five and my work schedule. But with the help of both of our mothers, we managed. It still wasn’t working. Cindy was hospitalized for more stringent bed rest and the decision was made to do a Caesarean section. I was again barred from the operating room, and not able to witness Anna’s birth.