The Birth Of My Daughter's Daughter

My first blog dealt with the death of my dad. This blog will go to the extreme opposite of death. This was also written in 2002 for a class and is a short narrative essay. It is the story of the birth of one of my grandchildren. In rewriting this for my blog I have made some minor modifications which I hope will improve the writing structure a bit. I have also changed the name of my family members so as to respect their privacy since I do not have permission to use them on the internet. I hope you will enjoy this short narrative.

The Birth of My Daughter’s Daughter

It is about 6:50 in the evening. I am in my daughter’s hospital room getting ready to say goodbye to her until tomorrow. The doctor came in about twenty minutes ago and speaking to my daughter he said, “The medicine to induce labor isn’t working. You’ll have to stay in the hospital for the night. In the morning I’ll attempt once again to get your labor going.”

Susan is sitting up on the end of her bed eating the stew that has been brought for her. Her husband Robert is sitting in the chair next to her bed. They are having a conversation. They are trying to decide if he should stay the night at the hospital or if he should go pick up their son and head on home.

Suddenly my daughter stiffens and drops her spoon into her bowl of stew. Then she grabs her stomach with both of her hands. At the same time this is happening I am seeing disbelief and panic in her eyes. I think, “She must be having a contraction but she looks so panicked. She has gone through this before. Why does she look so frightened at one contraction?” In a voice that carries the very force of the contraction she is having she shouts, “Oh my God! Robert, I want a pain killer and I want it now!” He is looking at her in disbelief and I’m thinking, “A pain killer? My goodness honey, this is your first contraction.” However, I know she means it because of the very tone of her voice. “What’s going on honey?” I ask. She looks at me with panic still clearly visible in her face and responds, “Mom, I’m scared. This contraction is too hard and it isn’t stopping” Robert asks her, “Do you think we should call the doctor?” to which she replies, “I don’t care. I just want a pain killer and I want it now!” I tell the kids, “I’ll go have the nurse call the doctor and let him know what is going on. I’ll also ask her to call the anesthesiologist.”

As I walk out of the room Susan is still clutching her stomach and looking horrified. I have so many thoughts just racing through my mind. One thought comes after another; then another. As fast as they come, they leave. “My poor baby. Why is this scaring you so bad? This must be one awful contraction. How I wish I could go through it for you. It is so hard to see you hurting so badly. How well I remember that pain from when you were born.” It only about 10 yards to the nurses’ station but I have hundreds of thoughts and feelings run though me in the short time it takes to get there. After explaining what is going on to the nurse and answering the questions she asks, I go back to the room. Unbelievably, Susan is still clinging to her stomach and looking very frightened. “I have to go to the bathroom” she cries.  “I need help.” Looking a little scared himself Robert helps her to walk the ten or twelve feet to the restroom.

When Susan is in the restroom, Robert and I suddenly hear her screaming, “The baby is coming! The baby is coming now!” As he rushes over to her I run out of the room. “I’ll get help!” I holler as I am hurrying out. Hearing Susan’s cries my body reacts by going hot and cold all at once. I want to cry because my baby is so scared and in such pain, yet I can do nothing to change it. When I get to the nurses station I see the nurse is already on the phone paging the doctor. After she finishes sending the page we run back into the room. Susan is still standing at the toilet with tears streaming down her face. She is no longer holding her stomach. Now she is holding her hands between her legs and she cries, “I can feel the baby’s head.” The nurse, taking complete charge of the situation begins shouting out orders, “Robert, you help me get Susan from the bathroom onto the bed! Susan’s mom, you get that bed stripped fast!” After I strip the bed faster than I’ve ever stripped a bed in my entire life, I sit down on the edge of the chair in the corner so I will be out of the way.

I watch as the nurse and Robert get my poor frightened baby to bed. I want to cry myself as I see her fear and pain. I want so desperately to say something, anything that will comfort her. However, I know I must not say a word. Nothing I can say will be of comfort to her right now. Also, if Susan realizes I am still in here she might make me leave. She has been so adamant about no one seeing her giving birth. I’ve always longed to see one of my grandchildren be born, so I sit here quietly with my hand over my mouth so I won’t make a sound; and I watch. I am overwhelmed with love and pride for my daughter at this moment. I’m also aching inside, knowing the pain she is going through. Yet I know she must go through it to get the prize at the end, to have this baby she will love so deeply. I know she will be a good mommy to the baby. She is already such a fine and loving mother to her son. I need to cry. I am so proud of her.

Oh, the baby is coming now. The head is out. I watch in amazement as the nurse is checking to make sure the umbilical cord is where it should be so it won’t hurt the baby. She tells Susan to push. As she pushes, I hold my breath, forgetting to even breathe. She gives one tremendously long, hard push. She screams with the power she must put into it, and it happens. The baby comes. She is so beautiful. She has the most stunning, thick, long, red hair I think I have ever seen on a newborn. She is my baby’s baby. I can hold back the tears no longer. They silently slide down my face. What an awesome thing to watch my daughter give birth to her daughter. A complete cycle of life has just taken place and I am in awe. I am overwhelmed at the very thought of it. My daughter now has a daughter.

The triumphant entry of Miss Lily Anne, as she will be called, has only taken an unbelievable eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes I will never forget for as long as I live. Eighteen minutes that will change my outlook on life forever.