From Pepsi Machine To Leg Holder

Enough time has passed where I feel a little more comfortable talking about my perspective of "the birth experience".  It'll be ok....I promise.  I won't get too graphic.  (Emily would throw my laptop out of the window if I did.)

Months ago, you all may remember, I (half jokingly/half serious) predicted that I would be out by the Pepsi machine while Em was delivering Owen. 

Some of you might think that was pretty insensitive of me, but if you knew my history at all....you might think differently.

I just didn't want to be the guy who passes out during the ordeal.  I have in the past gotten light-headed (but I've never passed out) in situations.  It doesn't happen often, and there is no rhyme or reason for it.  I can watch the goriest horror movie and not be bothered by it at all, or I can give blood 100 times...and 1 of those times get that feeling.  I couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't happen.....so I wanted to do the 100% sure thing and just not be in the room.  (Sidenote - my mom told me a story that my dad actually fainted during the birth of my oldest sister......and he wasn't even in the room.)

But I didn't push the issue, and Em insisted on me being in the room....which was fine.  I just wrapped my head around the fact that I would be on the "north end" of the action.  I was prepared to help Emily with her breathing and to hold her hand, etc...  (Not much else a dude can do in that situation.)

So imagine my horror when Emily was 9 cm dilated and the nurse looked me square in the eyes and asked me to "Grab her other leg.  We're going to start pushing."  To be fair, she must've seen the look on my face because she asked if she should bring in another nurse instead.  (I never thought such a simple question would be such a question on my masculinity.  The way I heard it in my head was more like this:  "Do you want to grab her leg, or would you rather go in the bathroom and put on your pink skirt and pantyhose?")

Obviously, I couldn't let that nurse get the best of my masculinity so I stayed in there and grabbed her leg like a champ. 

I told myself that I wouldn't look south.  (That didn't last long....because it was near impossible not to see anything from the front row seat that I had.)

Before I give some of the final thoughts to this whole birth experience I want to share that not only did I NOT pass out, but I never got light-headed and I made it through with no problems at all.  (Em might disagree, I'm not sure.)

Final Thoughts:

1. Birth is nothing like it is shown on TV or the movies.  Women push much longer than I realized.  Emily started pushing at around noon and Owen was born at 2:15pm.  (Emily was pushing for less time than the average birth, I guess.) 
2. Emily went into the birth with the following "wishes":  A) To have a mirror positioned so that she could watch it for herself, B) To touch his head before he came out, and C) To assist the doctor in pulling him out.  She had the mirror there for a while...and then told me to take it away.  She did ask the nurse several times if she could tell if he had hair or not, but she didn't feel it.  About the time for Owen to be delivered (about 2 or so more pushes) the nurse told her that she wasn't sure that the doctor would let her help deliver him.  Emily's response:  "I'm pretty much over that."
3. My one regret was that I wish I could see the expression on my face when Owen's head came out.  It had to have been hilarious.  I can play that back in my head, and I was amazed.  My face had to have been one of befuddled amazement.
4. I did have one comment that I said after he was born and when Owen was being cleaned up by the nurses.  I looked back at Emily, who had a big smile on her face and was just plain worn out, and said (in a loud enough voice for the whole room to hear.), "Em, he's.......a girl!!"  As soon as I said that, the whole room erupted in a unified voice, "No, he's not!!"  Then everyone kinda laughed.  I thought it was funny, and no matter what Emily says in the comment section.....she laughed too.