I Fell Down and a Baby Popped Out.

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In that order, but it took a whole day to achieve my life’s greatest accomplishment.

In 1981, March 23 fell on a Monday.

The day before…
 I took my dogs, Beowulf and Sabrina, out for an early morning walk.

My mom was going to come over around noon and take me shopping — see, that’s where I get it from!

It was a full week past my due date and those pesky Braxton Hicks contractions were terrifying me on a daily basis. My mom was the head RN of Women’s Surgical at a local hospital. She thought a bit of retail therapy (see what I mean?) would take my mind off of that discomfort.

At that time, my son’s dad and I lived in an older part of San Diego; Hillcrest. The sidewalks were deteriorated with huge cracks and fissures.

With my big belly full of Angel Boy blocking my view, I tripped and fell — not hard — but with sixty extra pounds on my normally one hundred pound frame, I was more than a little ungainly.

I remember being super embarrassed for anyone to watch my feeble attempts to get up. Luckily, no one was out that early. I leaned on Beowulf (one-hundred-pounds of Akita/Husky/Wolf) who stood about thirty inches at his shoulders, and he was a sturdy support to help me up.

I continued walking home — just a few blocks — and didn’t think much about my fall, but I did tell my mom when she picked me up to go to the mall.

She knew everything there was to know about birthin’ babies.

She reminded me that she had told me a zillion times not to go walking alone this late in pregnancy, but I replied like I always did, “Blah, blah, blah…I’m not listening to a word you say.”

We stopped at a lingerie shop and she bought me a beautiful rosebud sprigged shortie nightgown.

As we were leaving the store, I whispered to her, “Mom, I think I wet my pants.”

(Dumb me, who had read every single book ever written about pregnancy and childbirth, didn’t comprehend what had happened.)

My mom instantly went into what we always called her “nursey” mode.

Quizzing me non-stop about any other symptoms in a very calm voice, we cut short our shopping day (darn) and drove home.

I don’t want to be too gross here; let’s just say other things were leaking out of me, too…

Suddenly, those Braxton Hicks contractions became the real thing.

I called my doctor. It was time.

All during my pregnancy, I had planned to deliver at home, au natural, with my mom as midwife.

Toward the end, it became obvious that my Angel Boy was too big for that to be possible.

I hate hospitals.

I didn’t want that atmosphere to be the first memories implanted in my baby’s precious brain. With reluctance, I agreed that his health was more important than my hippie chick desires, and hubs, mom, and I all went to the hospital.

The doc examined me, concluded that the fall had merely torn the amniotic sac and the potential for introducing bacteria was a concern, so I agreed to let him completely puncture it to speed up the process.

And oh yes, speed it up it did. The mild contractions intensified.

Other than the unrelenting pain, which didn’t respond to that stupid Lamaze class training, I remember my son’s dad watching “Patton” on the wall TV in the birthing room.

I will always hate him for that.

After being in labor all night, my mom and the doc had a consultation.

Apparently, my baby had a head the size of Plymouth Rock and it was stuck.

It just wouldn’t come out.

I was so upset I couldn’t stop crying.

I had failed my first test as a mom.

So…at 9:42 a.m. on Monday, March 23, 1981, I had an emergency Caesarean Section.

I was wide awake and watched it all.

In the end, I guess it didn’t really matter how my Angel Boy got here.

He was beautiful and healthy; 8 1/2 pounds and 21 inches. He scored a 9 on the Apgar Scale; a high achiever from the beginning!

Happy 33rd birthday, Professor Angel Boy!

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48 thoughts on “I Fell Down and a Baby Popped Out.”

  3. Happy birthday to both of you! And having an emergency c-section is in NO WAY a failure as a mother. It’s a simple matter of physics–I was disappointed that I had to have two of them, but realistically, pushing a 12 lb. 6 ouncer, or even a 10 lb. 12 ouncer, out the normal way just wasn’t working. (Yes, I have big babies. And I lived to tell the tale!)

    It’s what happens in the months and years after birth that decide your Good Mum score, and I think you definitely pass! 🙂

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  4. First, Happy Birthday to your son.

    Second, I, too, had a C-section (Fangette was completely breach!) and felt like I had failed some kind of mothering test very early on. How dumb was that? Giving birth to them — that’s the easy part. Everything that comes after — that’s the hard stuff. That’s where we prove our mettle!

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  7. Love the story and the pics. That one of him with the teddy bear could be on a post card or poster or something. Just too cute. They are all adorable.

    And my labour with the girl-child was about the same as yours with Angel boy – a week of contractions, my water broke (or they broke it), and then it was bing, bang, boom, baby. Who cares about how he came out. Look what you made. A professor! Happy birthday to him and to you! ❤

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  8. Number one…congrats/ Happy Birthday to AB…and #2 YOU DID NOT FAIL AS A MOM! Man,the guilt-trips people have tried to send me on because I needed medical help, as you did.Would you fail as a person for breaking a leg a leg? Fail as a woman for getting breast cancer? I know you aren’t a Christian Scientist so what’s the deal?
    One day, the story of my first son’s birth, which is funny…NOW. (Actually, most of it was the next day!)

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    • I failed me I guess. I had decided way before I ever got pregnant that my baby’s brain would only record the best and most wonderful experiences, never any sadness. That’s why I wanted to have him at home surrounded by soft lights, music, my animals…and not in a sterile bright harsh environment. No tears ever. Well, mostly we got that. His dad and I and my mom never believed in letting him cry. I just hate hospitals, the way they smell, noises, etc and I’ve only been in one to have him, not like I ever spent time in one.

      On Sat, Mar 23, 2013 at 3:01 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo

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      • My family never believed in letting babies cry, either, and mine didn’t …#2 would not let me sit down for many months!
        But let’s be realistic, shall we? How many babies have EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD been brought into the light of day in soft lights, music and no tension? It is mostly to the screams of their mothers and with people fluttering around. And women still die in childbirth, so do babies. You never know what might happen to either one.I have heard of worst case scenarios in both places, but I’d take my chances in a hospital for childbirth.Thank God, I was where both my son and I did not have to die.

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      • Well, as always, it was my world, and that’s how I wanted it to be. My mom had delivered or helped to deliver a ton of babies and she agreed the whole thing was an unnecessary shock to them coming from a warm comforting environment. It didn’t really matter to me that most babies had to endure that…MY baby was special. He was and is and will always be Angel Boy, right? At least to me. 🙂

        On Sat, Mar 23, 2013 at 3:27 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo

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      • Everyone’s baby is special.I have learned by the school of hard knocks that , despite all I have always felt and been told or felt,I may be odd,I may be special, but there are only things that happen to ‘other people’ until they happen to you. You are other people; I hope you find that out gently. We were both lucky with our sons. We still are!

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      • I just don’t dwell on that “waiting for something to happen” mindset. I see a happy place and I try to always be positive no matter what, and it helps to create it. That is something I really believe and what I think I successfully passed on to my son. so far, so good!

        On Sat, Mar 23, 2013 at 3:36 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo

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  12. We never do forget, do we? I also only gave birth to one (naturally) after 36 hours of labor & having my water broken & being induced to hurry things along because the doctor was leaving for vacation that day. My other beautiful children were born to other mothers & I just get the fun of loving them.

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  16. I wanted to deliver my first at a birthing center, no drugs, go home as soon as possible, no doctors, only midwives. He was breach, with his foot stuck (literally stuck) under my pelvic bone. I had a C-section. My second was no more cooperative than his brother. As much as I didn’t want hospital births, I’m one of those women who would never have delivered a healthy baby without one, and might have killed myself trying.

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    • Me too, only had one tho, but they said my babies would have to weigh about 4 lbs for me to deliver naturally. 😦 Wow, now that you said breech, I remember the nurses said my baby was turned the wrong way and i had to do a bunch of contortions to turn him around and he still couldn’t come out right with that huge head!

      On Thu, Mar 28, 2013 at 4:47 AM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo

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