Home Birth (Part 4)

I asked her if she had taken her little dog for a walk yet and she told me she hadn’t, that she’d been asleep since last night. I told her to stay in bed and scooped up the little dog. Thankfully he only weighs about 5 pounds and really likes me. I got him leashed and out the door. He peed quickly and we went back inside.

She had fallen back to sleep. I woke her up again and again she was disoriented. Through more talking she asked me what was happening and that she felt extremely weird. I asked her if she remembered taking any medication and she said she had the night before and that her doctor must have given her the wrong dose of her muscle relaxer. I had a physical therapy appointment that I needed to leave for, so I asked her if she wanted to go to the bathroom while I was there, in case she fell. She said, yes, she needed to pee terribly and she got herself out of bed.

She made it about two steps before she collapsed again. I didn’t reach to help her. I will admit I was selfish in this, but seeing how little control she had over her body made me certain that if I tried to support her, I would likely get injured. My due date was in a week. I knew my baby could come at any time. I did not want to risk being injured for delivery. I did not reach to help her up.

She decided it was safer for her to try to crawl to the bathroom. She was incapable of getting on all fours. She butt scooted into the hallway, then lost her ability to sit up. She was nearly completely out of control of her body. I kept asking her if I should call for an ambulance and she kept telling me no, that she would be fine soon. I’ve dealt with enough drunks and drug addicts in my life to have felt confident she was definitely intoxicated on her muscle relaxers, but I had never seen anyone so incapacitated. It was like someone turned the gravity up on her. She laid on the floor in the hallway and asked me to bring her the small bin she uses for her recycling bin from the kitchen. I did. She managed to wiggle it under her butt, wiggle her sweats and underwear down and peed. Poor dear. It was an imperfect bed pan, but it caught most of it.

Having relieved herself, she managed to wiggle her pants back up. Then she scooted back to bed and crawled up into it. She told me she was feeling a lot clearer and that she just needed to sleep off the rest of it.

I let her know I needed to get to my physical therapy appointment, but that I would come back and check on her right after. I asked her if she wanted some water before I left. She did, so I handed her the short glass she had on her night stand. She managed to take it in her hand but failed to connect with her mouth. She tried a second time, spilled again, and I asked if she had any drinking straws in her kitchen; she did not, so I guided the cup for her to sip. I showed her where I put her phone within her reach and she was back to sleep before I left.

I can’t remember if I called my husband on my way to my physical therapy appointment. I do remember sitting in the waiting room looking overdose information for the muscle relaxers I found on her kitchen counter. I decided she most likely was having an overdose experience. I texted my husband, asking if he thought I should have called an ambulance, should she be at the hospital. Ultimately, we concluded that she was cognizant enough for us to respect her wishes.

I had been in physical therapy for about 4 months. I went in with a pulled muscle in my lower back and stayed because my pelvis kept slipping out of alignment. I really loved my primary physical therapist. She had given me an ear for listening, strength and confidence in my ability to rock my upcoming delivery. I hated to rush our last appointment, but she checked my alignment, told me I was in really great shape, and I knew I wanted to get back so I passed on the last opportunity for a massage.

I drove back and let my into the house. She was asleep. I woke her up and she was still deeply affected, but much clearer than she had been. She apologized for messing up my Valentine’s day and thanked me for taking care of her, for being so kind. I assured her that we love her, I love her, and we just want to make sure she’s going to be ok. We visited a little more and she let me know it was ok for me to leave, that she was going to get some more sleep.

I went home. This was all before noon that day. My husband finished his work day and went to check on her that afternoon. He stayed for a couple of hours to visit and make sure her heart was in the right place. He came home. I was wiped. The whole ordeal was emotionally frying for me. I spent time in bed. I don’t think we did anything special. That wasn’t a big deal to me. I’m not really into Valentine’s day. I know he didn’t realize that it was that day, in his distress over making sure our friend was ok.

I know we made love. It was lovely. I went to bed early.

It was 12:30 a.m. on February 15th when I got up to pee and had my first contraction.