Why they call it Labour - Originally posted December 2007

Joaquin Raoul Espigares Fortin was born on December 15th, 2007 at 7:45 pm. I can't really compare having a baby in Spain to having one in Canada because I haven't had one in Canada, but I'd have to say that the experience here in Spain was a good one. A painful one, but everything went all right for the most part.

I woke up on Saturday, December 15th around 8:30 am. I was feeling pain lower down in my belly. This was not something new. I had been waking up for the last several weeks feeling pain because I had to go to the bathroom so badly. When you have to pee every 5 minutes all day long and then go to sleep for 8 hours with only one bathroom trip throughout the night, you're bound to feel pain first thing in the morning. Some mornings I was afraid to get up in fear that I might pee the bed right there with Miguel next to me. Nice way for him to wake up. Anyway, I went to the bathroom as I normally did and then went back to bed.

This was the first day that Miguel had been given to sleep in. He didn't have to work until 4 that day so we had both planned to sleep in. JR had other plans. Around 9:30 I woke up again with the same sort of pains. I thought maybe I had to go, well, you know. The other number. So I went to the bathroom and off to bed again. About 2 minutes later I had the pains again. I thought "Could it be? Am I in labour? Nah, first your water is supposed to break or your contractions are only supposed to be 30 minutes apart to start off with; not 2 minutes apart. Nah, can't be labour. But just in case it is labour I have to at least take a shower. I can't go to the hospital like this and have people looking around down there".

So I took a shower. An hour and a half in labour and I'm taking a shower. Contractions are fun while you're trying to take a shower. Finally I started to face the reality that I might actually be in labour. I went upstairs, woke Miguel up and told him we had to call the hospital because I might be in labour. I wanted to make sure (I just wasn't getting it) because I didn't want to have to drive all the way to Malaga and then come back if it wasn't labour. Apparently having contractions every 2 minutes wasn't enough to convince me.

We finally found the number for the hospital. This confusion all happened while my mother in law opened my Christmas presents for me so that I could have them for the hospital. I may be crazy, but I don't think labour is the best time to open someone else's Christmas presents for them. In fact maybe you shouldn't open other people's presents at all. She did it again for my Three Kings day present too. I'm in the middle of a contraction and she's showing off the nightgown and bathrobe she got me. I never used them either since you pretty much wear a hospital gown when you're in the hospital. Everyone would have thought I was a nutjob walking around in a pink housecoat.

So it took the nurse on the phone telling me that 'I have to come in before they can make a proper assessment' to finally get me into the car. So about 2 hours after my labour started we were off to the hospital. When we got there, Miguel's 75 year old mother who is afraid of parking let us off about half a mile from the hospital doors. We finally made it to the emergency entrance where a clerk told us we need to go ALL the way around to the maternity entrance. As we walked out I stopped to have a contraction and a doctor came out and told us to come back in. Apparently she overheard the clerk tell us to go around the building and to which she replied, "What, are you crazy! She's in labour you idiot!" Maybe the clerk used to work for the Spanish government. I don't know.

Either way they put me in this wheelchair which was way too small for me (I could tell by the wheels rubbing against my ass) and brought me to the maternity ward. I still have to wheel marks on the sides of my pants. I could have just walked you know. I think she was feeling bad for almost making me walk around the building. Here we had to go to the front desk and check in first. Got you're health card, Yup, Passport, Yup, NIE, Yup, Pregnancy booklet, Yup. Ah, Spain. The land of overwhelming paperwork. We're finally getting the hang of it. Just bring every piece of paper you've acquired in the last 5 years with you everywhere and you'll be ok.

After checking in it was time for the first examination to see if I was in fact in labour because I still wasn't totally convinced that this was the real thing. Ok, dilated 3 centimetres. Hmm, by this time I thinking maybe we should be talking epidural. The doctor actually beat me to the punch and asked me if I wanted the epidural to which I replied "Si, claro!" Loosely translated that means "hell yeah!" So then I was off to the delivery ward.

The hospital I went to is called "El Materno". It is a maternity hospital and if anyone has a serious problem with their delivery in nearby hospitals they fly them to el materno right away. The medical staff were excellent I have to say. I was in very good hands. The only problem I had was when one of the doctors who examined me left me kind of hanging half way off the bed because I couldn't feel my legs enough (due to the epidural) to pull myself up. I honestly think she just didn't know how to handle the situation. I eventually got myself back up. The epidural was a welcome help although it took about 4 hours of waiting before I got it because they had to do blood work beforehand to make sure I was a candidate. Every time the doctor would come into the room I would say "epidural?" My Spanish is still a work in progress, but I think I got my point across. Finally around 3:30pm after 5 hours of contractions every 2 to 4 minutes that kept getting stronger and stronger, I had the epidural. I slept.

Dealing with the worst pain I have EVER felt in my life for 5 hours had knocked every ounce of energy out of me. The doctor in the pregnancy class told us that we need to rest in between contractions to get ready for the next one. Exactly when are you supposed to rest when your contractions are 2 minutes apart. THE WHOLE FRICKIN' TIME! That's like saying "relax your leg muscles after every stride" when your running a 10K race. The nurses kept telling me to breathe too. "I am breathing. Can't you hear me breathing. The people in the next room can probably hear me breathing. Between screams that is".

The epidural wasn't all roses and sunshine though. At one point it started to wear off on the left side so they upped my dosage. This made me lose feeling in my lower body all together. This lead to the whole falling off the bed incident. You don't realize just how heavy you are until half of you is unable to pull the other half of you up. I can relate a little bit more to that whole scene in Kill Bill when Uma pulls herself into that guy's truck after coming out of a 4 year coma. Except she handled it a lot better than I did. I'm not a trained assassin though.

All in all things went along fairly well. I dilated really quickly. I was fully dilated by about 4:30 even with the epidural. That's when they tell you start pushing with contractions, which is a bit of a task when you can't feel your lower body. This was the biggest complication I had. I pushed for 3 hours and JR just wouldn't come through the birth canal. This was hard. Not like anything before was easy, but I was starting to feel my right side through the epidural. I didn't ask them to increase the epidural though because I didn't like the feeling of absolutely no feeling and I also figured it was best if I could feel the contractions at least a little so I knew when to push. Besides it wasn't going to be much longer. After 3 hours of pushing I was getting frustrated, but JR was no closer to coming out. I remember at one point Miguel came back from calling my parents to give them an update and asked me how it was going and I said "He won't come out, the dirty bastard!".

Finally the main doctor who had seen me through the whole delivery came in and made the final decision. Miguel tells me that after he examined me he then told the others to get "him" in here. So in came this young thing, examined me, and told us that they were going to have to help JR out a little bit in order to get him out. He said they were going to have to get out the spatulas. I made some comment about cooking (I can't really remember). Then all of a sudden like 14 people ushered into the room and one of them asked Miguel to leave for a few minutes. Ok, a little weird, but what do I know. I've never had a baby and this is really starting to hurt so just GET HIM OUT! It turns out spatulas for delivering a baby look nothing like spatulas you use in the kitchen. Big long scary looking metal things. We'll leave it at that.

At some point they let Miguel back in and then he was born. The first time I saw JR he was upside down and blue. I remember seeing his little willy and thinking "Yup, definitely a boy". He didn't cry much, but boy I did. The medical staff must have thought I was a big weirdo. I'm not sure if I cried more out of relief of having him out or the fact that there he was. Our little boy. He had so much hair. I just couldn't believe that this little person came out of me. He was amazing. He still is. Then they put him on my chest. I just couldn't believe it.

Most amazing thing I've ever done. Can't wait to do it again, but I want a girl next time.