June 20, 2016. I check into Winthrop Hospital after my OB breaks the news: “You have to be induced.”
I am zero centimeters dilated and my cervix is as hard as a rock. As my sister, Adayna, says, “All those years of keeping it tight literally kept it tight.” Damn you, vagina!
Off I go to the hospital with Boo, a packed bag and a full belly (literally): my doc encouraged me to eat as the process of being induced can take up to 24 hours, and that’s before actual labor. And I am terrified. Labor is tough enough; now I have to force baby boy out. And, if he emulates me when I was born, he wouldn’t leave his cozy home easily.
Folks, Evan is just like his momma.
I am in labor for 18 hours. 18 freaking hours! And I am screaming for Diosito himself to GET. THIS. BABY. OUT! Non stop pain. Indescribable pain. And I feel it all because, well, when zero centimeters dilated you are first induced with a drug called Cervidil. FYI: you don’t get an Epidural with Cervidil. With Cunty Cervivil (as I now call it) you are given a pain killer that knocks you out for 3 hours. So I sleep like a baby to wake up screaming bloody murder.
Finally, 2 centimeters dilated. I am wheeled out to the delivery room and cry out in pain. My contractions are a minute apart. I feel like I am being ripped apart. A stocky nurse with a short blonde bob looks at me straight in the eyes. “You have to breath, honey.”
“I can’t! I can’t!” I squeal.
“Yes, you can. Look at me and breathe.” She begins to inhale and exhale and I follow suit. Boo holds my hand.
In the room now. It’s time for the next phase: the drug Pitosin and an epidural for the pain. Less pain now. I can do this, I think. “You can do this,” Boo encourages. Only I can’t. At 16 hours I am only 6 centimeters dilated and baby boy can’t come through my vaginal canal.
“His head is being squeezed,” my OB warns, “we’re going to have to do a c-section.”
Again, I am terrified. I have never had surgery. I have never been hospitalized. Now, I have to experience both things at once.
In a gurney. In a cold surgery room. I am given anesthesia. My arms are strapped down. I am shaking. My fingers, chest and arms shiver. My teeth chatter. “Is this normal?” I ask. Yes, it is. Something about a reaction to the drugs and the coldness of the room.
A curtain is dropped and all I see is gray and all I hear are doctors speaking and Boo comforting me. “It’s going to be ok.”
And it is. On June 21, 2016, I hear a baby cry. My baby. I hear my baby boy sucking on his fingers. I hear the nurse call out, “He’s beautiful!”
And just like that…Evan David Escudero is laying on my chest. Just like that…I am a mother. I am responsible for another human being.
I cry tears of joy and love, so much love. It is terrifying and exciting and emotional and life-altering. It is trying and challenging, and the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and the greatest gift I have ever received. Thank you, God. Thank you, Universe. Thank you, Boo’s penis. Thank you, vagina.
Thank you, Evan, for choosing me.