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                                              Labor and Delivery
   On the morning of January 1, 1999- I was admitted into Lebanon Community Hospital. The details are fuzzy and that's probably for the best. I had Matt there the entire time and my mom popped in and out. My long-time friend (and mentor) was there most of the day and she brought her sister along to help me out. Her sister had helped a couple of other women during their labor and deliveries. Matt's parents came and went throughout the day also. I can't recall anyone else being there, but I could be wrong.
   I was immediatly hooked up to an I.V. and given pitocin to induce labor. The doctor appeared for a few short minutes to break my water with a little tool that looks similar to a crochet hook. That process didn't physically hurt too bad, but was somewhat uncomfortable. The doctor asked me if I felt a gush of fluid. I wasn't sure, since I didn't know what to expect. The doctor quickly left the room and my contractions started getting very strong, very quickly. But still no fluid. The doctor must've realized that his first attempt to break my water, an hour earlier, wasn't successful, so he tried again. This time, I knew he broke it because everything was completely soaked and there was warm, clear fluid all over; as if I'd peed.
   Immediatly after that, my contractions became unbearable. I was only given demerol intravenously for pain. I slightly remember the nurses and some of my company trying to talk me into more pain medication, such as an epidural, although I had my mind set against it. Part of my reasoning was that I'd previously decided to experience 'natural' childbirth ( I must've been insane!). Another reason that was in the back of my mind, as I refused more pain medication, was that I wondered if Shaina had suffered what-so-ever. I just couldn't bare the thought. Maybe in some bizarre way, I was punishing myself for her death and felt like I should feel the pain that she might have felt. It's kind-of hard for people to fully grasp that feeling, unless they have also lost a baby.
   The nurses told me more than once, "You can have as much pain medicine as you want, there's no reason why you should have to feel any more pain than necessary." I guess in a way, they had a point. But hearing them say that was translated in my mind to, "You can take as much medicine as you want now; it can't hurt the baby...she's already dead!" Practically anything that anyone could've said at that point, probably would have been taken the wrong way by me, since I was so defensive.
   I've alaways heard that Pitocin makes labor a whole lot more painful. The contractions are harder and much stronger. Most people might think that giving birth to a 1 pound baby would be so easy compared to a 8 pound baby...but I can tell you that's definitely a myth and believe me, I know.
   After a couple of hours of tremendously painful contractions, I was so nauseous, that everyone in the delivery room was scurrying around to find a bedpan or anything that could catch vomit. Just as soon as somebody shoved one under my chin, it went away for a few moments, but soon returned.
   During this whole time, I was somewhat aware that there had possibly been some arguements, altercations or disagreements (whatever you want to call it) between some family members and friends, at the hospital, which definitely didn't help matters any. Just knowing that those types of things were occuring, really made me more upset. How could it not? I asked myself, "Couldn't everyone just get along and let me get through this without people fighting? Couldn't everyone try their best to be courteous to each other and bite their tongues, at least for my sake?"
   Late that evening, after laboring practically the entire day (5 hours of hard labor), I yelled, "Something is coming out, I can feel something!" The doctor probably wasn't even at the hospital then and the nurses were no where to be found. No one knew what to do, but my friends' sister was standing at the foot of the bed and literally delivered Shaina within a second of my warning. Shaina was born at 10:25 p.m. She was 11 inches long and weighed 1 lb. 1 and a half ounces.
   I remember Matt yelling down the hall for help from a nurse. I think my friends' sister held Shaina until the nurse ran in and took over. I don't remeber seeing Shaina right then. Matt got a peek and my mom was sitting there and briefly seen her, too. I think it was a bit much for my mom. Someone told me that she had to step out of the room . Matt's mom was in the room at the moment of Shaina's birth, too, I believe. The nurse took Shaina down to the nursery or somewhere in that vicinity.
   I didn't have to have any stitches and there were no health concerns after the delivery. I think I wanted to rest and digest what had just happened. The doctor came in to talk with us at some point, either that night or the next morning. He brought a single red rose and told us that his daughter had heard our story and felt that we needed this rose. That was kind, I'll have to admit. Otherwise, my opinion of him was less than perfect. Although I do know quite a few people who worship the ground he walks on and thinks he's a great doctor, which I'm sure he is capable of being. I believe with all of my heart that he hadn't had enough experience with stillbirths and was a bit unemotional as well as naive.
   During my pregnancy, I felt he didn't pay enough attention to my concerns, along with other things. I don't know if it was because of my age (being 16) or what. I do think he needed to do some reading and/or research about how to treat someone who has lost a baby and also the effects of stress on pregnant mothers and their babies. He straight up told me that stress has absolutally no effect on babies in the womb. If he were smart, he most likely deny ever saying that, now. I won't even go there. I'll save that for the letter I'm planning to write him eventually, to air my feelings.
   Between the time I gave birth and late that night when we held Shaina, I have no recolection as to what took place. Sometime that evening (or maybe the next day), I slightly remember a couple of our family members, asking if we wanted to have a funeral. That was the very first time the thought of a funeral or anything that would happen prior to delivery, had crossed my mind. I guess I could've been purposely trying my hardest not to think of 'after' the birth.
   I was posative that I wanted a funeral for Shaina and I wanted it to be very special. I thought a little bit about it and spoke with Matt and our families. We started planning right away, although I wanted to hold off on the actual funeral for at least a few days after I came home from the hospital, mainly because I needed time to plan it out the way I wanted it and not forget something important.I also wanted to give our families and friends time to make arrangements, so they could attend. I wanted everyone to be there.
   Someone mentioned the pastor of their church would be perfect to officiate the funeral service. I remembered the last church I had went to, right before I met Matt. I wanted the pastor of that church to do the service, since I thought he was the best. So, I got a hold of him and he said he would be honored to do it. He also came to the hospital the afternoon after Shaina's birth to speak to us and pray with us. That helped me out considerably and brought my focus back to God, which is the only way I could've made it through my unspeakable ordeal.
   Sometime during labor or maybe after, someone brought a stereo into my room and turned the station to 107.1 K-LOVE. Since then, that is the only radio station I will listen to. It's always on it the car and if the radio is on at home, it's gotta be K-LOVE. It's a Christian station and it has been so encouraging for me, especially during the first several months of my grieving. It makes me think about God, daily and that's how it should be. I have a feeling that my friend put it on that station in the hospital, because I always listened to rap, rock-n-roll and alternative and she was always trying to get me to listen to Christian music, since the lyrics sent a more posative message and one that I desperatly needed to hear. If that was you (you know who you are!), THANK YOU!!! By the way, within a month of changing my music listening choices, I took 95% of my non-Christian CDs to the pawn shop and got rid of them. I didn't get much money out of them, considering I had over 100 practically new CDs, but it was enough to start buying some Christian ones to replace them.

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