Disclaimer: This post is about child-birth and contains words like "cervix". If you are creeped out by that or uncomfortable in any way. Read no further.
In the middle of my 3rd trimester, I changed from an OB/GYN in the area that we live in to a practice in the town where our families live. Some may have thought that was unnecessary, but for me, and the situation at hand, it was completely necessary. You see, 6 weeks before my due date, my Daddy went home to be with the Lord. If ever I needed to be near my family, it was then. And, if ever my Mom needed me to be close, it was then. I could no longer imagine bringing my first baby into the world without the comforts and familiarity and support of home. So, for the last month of my pregnancy, I was traveling back and forth a good bit, and staying with my Mom a lot. I don't even remember much about the last trimester. I only remember it feeling like a whirlwind. I was struggling with SO many deep emotions that my thoughts couldn't have been their clearest. Grief, joy, pain, love, anger, excitement. I had never been in that place before and have never been there since. All I knew was that the only thing that was going to alleviate even a little bit of the hurt was holding my brand new daughter in my arms very soon. And, soon it was.
At my 40 week appointment, we made the decision to go in and be induced. I was showing little progress in the way of cervical changes, and was a little apprehensive to wait until I went into labor on my own because of the distance. I wasn't really digging the idea of giving birth on the shoulder of I-65 South. So, on Sunday evening, January 14, 2007, after eating a fried bologna sandwich at my in-laws' house and stopping at the local Texaco to get drinks, snacks, and the Sunday issue of The Birmingham News for Brian (like he was going to have time to read the paper), we arrived at the hospital. I was wearing a red long-sleeved shirt, black yoga pants, and my favorite red flip flops. It was cold, but I was hot. Plus, my feet were the size of Oklahoma. I was nervous to the point of tears. Once we got all settled in, we had a few visitors. My cousin, Gina, brought dinner from Cracker Barrel just before the cut-off time for me to eat. The nurse came in and took it away from me after one bite of hash brown casserole. They inserted something to help me dilate. And, told me to get a good night's rest. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. Really?! (dripping with sarcasm) I hadn't thought about it. Like I could sleep even if I wanted to.
Early the next morning, the nurse came in to start pitocin. I asked her to please let me take a shower first. So, she did. Then, they started the pitocin. We had a few more visitors. A friend came in while I was putting on my makeup and made fun of me for doing so while I was in labor. Like I'm not allowed to even try and be cute when I'm having a baby. I blow dried my hair, too. Why not? I was stuck in this bed, not even feeling the contractions that everyone was telling me were getting really strong. Apparently, I have a high tolerance for pain. I never knew that. The nurse came in every couple of hours and checked me. Annoying. I hated that part, and wasn't sure how necessary it was so early on. Progress was slow. I did know that there was a waiting room FULL of people there for me. And, that felt really good. The day dragged on and on like there was no end in sight. By 3 that afternoon the contractions....well, now I could feel them. a lot. Wow. So, THAT's what epidurals are for. OK. I was dilated to between 4 and 5 when I got the epidural. Happy New Year! More visitors. I love 'em. My best friend, Taylor, came by and brought a friend of ours from high school, Jordan. I hadn't seen him since Freshman year in college (6 years) and he was sweet enough to come to the hospital and see me that day. This is what I meant by the support of home. Everyone thought that the baby would come at some point in the early afternoon on Monday, January 15th. Martin Luther King Day. People were off work and out of school. We thought it was quite convenient. The baby had other plans. One by one the loved ones waiting had to go. It was getting late. 6 cm...7cm...Help me, Jesus. 8 1/2 cm...By now, it is around 10:30 pm. I am at 9cm and miserable. I tell Brian if I haven't progressed to ten within the hour, I am going to beg for a c-section. Then, a few minutes later, I feel the overwhelming urge to push. But, the nurse isn't planning on checking me again for another 30 minutes. What do I do? I've never done this before. Should I push if I feel like it, or should I wait??? Call button..."Umm, could you please have someone come in to check me? I kinda want to push."
At 11:00pm, the doctor comes in. She says I only have a tiny bit of cervix left and the baby is right there. Can I try to give her a big push. So, I do. With all my might. Lights, camera, action. It was time to push. I'm exhausted. I'm sleeping between contractions. My husband is right beside me. I was only rude to him once, I think. And, he took it like a champ. I was hot. really hot. I wanted to get out of the hospital gown. What was it really doing for modesty anyway? Hello! I tried to take it off a time or two. No one would allow it. The nurse wanted to give me oxygen. So, they strapped a non-rebreather mask to my face. I immediately burst into tears. My daddy was on a mask identical to this one for the last month of his life. I locked eyes with my Mother and saw a tear streaming down her face. I couldn't do it. My mom had never witnessed a live birth before. I wanted to keep this moment as grief-free as possible for both of us. I yanked off that mask and into the floor it went. quickly. My mother-in-law was in the room, too. At first, I wasn't sure how I would feel about that, what with all my business being on display, but I was glad. She's great, and it made me happy that she could be there with Brian when his first child was born, and her first grandchild. She swears, to this day, that she never saw any of my "business". Bless her heart. I don't know if I believe her. Anyway, after 31 hours of labor, including 1 hour and 15 minutes of pushing, I heard the sweetest words ever uttered by an ob/gyn. "Happy Birthday, Sweetie!" January 16, 2007 at 12:15am
Peace washed over me. My first baby had entered this world just one floor above the place where her Grandaddy had left it. I could hear clapping and cheering just outside the door. It seems that the 10 or so family members that were able to stay were standing outside the cracked door of LDR 5 and were able to listen to her first cries. Priceless! The proud daddy, through his tears, cut the umbilical cord. We have a daughter. Pure joy. Bliss. Elation. They held her up, quickly, and let me sneak a peak. Then, they whisked my baby away to a scale/warmer/whatever other stuff that thing does and started giving her the once over. I HATED that. I know it has to be done, but I wanted to at least touch her first. Kiss her. Someone said, "Wow! 9 lbs. 1 oz. 21 inches long!" Holy cow! Are you serious? That's huge! But, it's really not. I said, " I want my baby. I'm so ready for her. I'm ready for my baby!"
Then, I got my wish. Someone (I don't know who) brought this bundle over to me. Swaddled so tightly in a blanket, wearing a hat. All I could see is her face. The most beautiful face in all the world. I said, " Hey, Sarah. I'm your Mommy. I love you SO much." I never even realized just how much. Is it even possible to love someone so much? My heart felt like it would explode! It still feels that way.
That's how I became a member of the Mom Club. A badge that I am honored to wear. One I am extremely proud of. I also am intensely aware that the birthing process does not a mother make. It's the unconditional love. the nurture. the selflessness. Even if I hadn't carried Sarah under my heart for 9 months, I knew that I had carried her in my heart my whole life. She was meant to be my Sweetie-girl, and I was always meant to be her Mommy.
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