I woke up at 8am.

28 November 2008

The most sincere urge to poop, a faint pain that reminded me of impending diahrrea. I fell back to sleep and at nine AM, the same pain disturbed a dream about sitting at Gibson Park in Weslaco. As I tried to fall asleep again, I felt inexplicably excited. Around ten, the pain came again and seemed to seep into my pelvis, and I said “Marc” until he responded. I feel something weird in my pelvis, I explained. Marc could not be bothered, and I just wanted to tell someone anyway, so I took ‘Stache on a walk and called Di.

“You’re about to take the biggest most beautiful shit of your life!”

The contractions got more painful but not closer together. Marc and I walked to Xalisco, where we met our friend Alex. CNN pulsated on the flatscreen. I ordered the Mexi-Bowl.

“Ay mi’ja, when are you having your baby?”

Today! Today was October 30th, a Thursday, and all the chattering and TV in Xalisco annoyed me as my uterus began to feel more squished and my back more pinched. I called my midwife and sensed that she didn’t really believe me. I kind of didn’t believe me either; my due date was a month away and I had no idea what labor really felt like!

Later, I would stand in the shower and let steaming water hit my back. And soak in a tub, requesting that Marc bring me a cup to pee in so I wouldn’t have to get out. Around five PM I began to feel rather scared. The pain was beginning to make me very uncomfortable, and I wanted my mommy. Honestly. So we drove to my mom’s. The pain began to take on sharper tones on the drive over there… I discovered the joy of crying out. I cried out in pain like Ohhhhhhh!

At my mom’s, I began to bleed and I felt the strange sensation of stretching, almost tearing. Ohhhhhh! I spent a lot of time on all fours on my mom’s couch, my sisters myspacing and texting away nearby. My mom showed Marc how to effectively apply pressure to my lower back, something I began to beg for when the contractions came every few minutes. It was surreal; there was the clench of the eyes and jaw that suddenly reopened to let out a slow howl and then silence and for me, pure black as I didn’t open my eyes. I just relished the quietude between contractions. And eventually, I began to dread the next contraction. I remember thinking there was noooo fucking way my pelvis and back could hurt any more without me fainting. The contraction after that musing was terrifying: I suddenly had the urge to bear down, and I couldn’t help it! And I was still at my mom’s house, thirty minutes away from the birthing center!

“We have to go right now!”

The midwife didn’t really believe Marc when he said I was unable to bear any more pain and felt like pushing. Apparently first-time mothers don’t give birth very quickly. She ordered Marc, who was driving my sisters in a different car than my mom and I were in, to go get me some fruit.

I stopped yelling and starting puffing. I couldn’t help pushing. The urge was unstoppable- my baby was trying to escape on the freeway!

We arrived at 9:50PM, my dress soaking with amniotic fluid and me swearing that I could feel the baby in my coochie. For some reason, the midwife still did not think I was about to give birth and had the student midwife check my progress in the clinic. Ten centimeters and a bag of waters clogging my coochie! It was too late to go to the birthing rooms, I was gonna have to give birth right there on the clinic chair! And Marc was still at the store.

I began to feel what we called ‘indian’ burn as children- in my coochie. The baby was crowning! The contractions were barely a minute apart and lasted more than a minute. I felt like I was losing control, and I kept shrieking “Where’s Marc?!”

I must have had another couple of contractions because there are a few minutes that are blurry in memory. I remember Marc arriving and the midwives encouraging me to press my feet into their hips. They braced their selves against my fierce pushing.

I felt the last unbelievable stretch of my skin. Then a smooth gliding sensation.

Everyone in the room forgot to check the gender of the baby as we stared. Transfixed.

She let out lusty cries and flailed her little arms. She quieted on my stomach as they cleaned her and I rubbed her all over. Marc and I spent the night in one of the birthing rooms, slept on the comfy beds and sipped on the apple juice they supplied.

I don’t know what to say. It’s been a month since. She loves the milk I make special for her in my chi chis. People call her princess. She had a full head of straight black hair at birth. She rarely cries. We cuddle to sleep. Marc has been doing everything around the house since I’ve got a miniature person attached to my chest most of the time. She makes a fish face. Her poops are explosive and loud. She follows people and things around. She projectile shits on me every once in a while. She is ‘sitting’ in my lap right now, asleep, and I am typing with my left arm in a very painful position.

Lucia Demarco

I felt so goddamn scared last night. I told Marc I didn’t wanna succumb to the romance myth. That we can’t treat each other as if we dislike each other just because we see nothing but each other all day. We have to keep a good grip. We have to be realistic for Lucia. We can’t pretend to love absolutely everything about each other because damnit, I don’t. He doesn’t. This is a talk for another time- Lucia is stirring and my chi chis are starting to dribble.