labour

I try not to think about labour until right before the baby is born otherwise I scare myself silly.
But a few weeks ago after a dr's appointment I was sent to the labour and delivery ward for some more assessments due to high blood pressure. I pushed open the big, heavy wooden doors and was instantly overwhelmed by the most horrific screaming. Now I have been on that floor many times, I have seen babies born; but I have never, ever heard screaming like that. It was that intense. Immediately my knees buckled, my mouth went dry, and I (I'll admit it) began to sweat. I found a seat and was tempted to plug my ears.
The screaming was persistent and only stopped when the mother-to-be took a breath. Suddenly a nurse came running out from the delivery room into the hallway yelling where's the husband? At that moment a panicked looking man came bounding down the hallway and followed the nurse into the delivery room. Within two minutes I could hear the baby's cries. What drama for a small town hospital.
When I was a nursing student I was able to watch some babies being born and it was the most wonderful thing to witness. And then something terrible happened. A mother had asked for an epidural and she was frozen from her waist upwards. The whole experience was awful for both the mother and the nursing staff. From then on I have had a fear of epidurals. Thankfully when Nate, our oldest, was born in an hour and a half - there was no time to think about an epidural.
 Liam-that is another story. I had high blood pressure so the midwives told me to come to the hospital in order to induce labour. Adam dropped me off at the hospital and then went to see a house that was for sale. (We would later buy this farm house.)  As I was laying in the hospital waiting to be induced I started to freak out and thought that there was no way that I could go through labour. I called Adam and told him to pick me up. I snuck out of the hospital without telling the midwives. The next day they called me at home and told me that I had to come back to the hospital and that it wasn't an option. As the day went on and the labour became more and more intense I started to loose control. It was one contraction on top of another and I was feeling despair. I decided that it was time for an epidural. When the anesthesiologist was called he told us that he couldn't come in for awhile because he was going to Mass. On a Saturday. Pope John Paul was dying and Catholics all over the world were heading off to their churches. I told Adam and the midwives that I didn't care that the Pope was dying. I needed an epidural. It wasn't going to happen.
An hour later we welcomed our beautiful little boy and I told myself that the horribleness of labour was all worth it. And now as we prepare to meet our new little one in a few more weeks I need to keep on reminding myself that labour is only temporary. There is a great blessing at the end of it!