We always expected that she would arrive mid-February, so when February 21
rolled around, I had already grown anxious and impatient. My parents had been
in town for one week already, and every dinner conversation included, “Do you
feel like she’s coming soon? Do you feel any different?” Due to a brief bout of
elevated blood pressure earlier in the month, there was a short time where we
thought I’d be induced. Thankfully, it passed, and we let her come naturally.
I woke up at 4:30 AM on Saturday, February 21st, to rain hitting the window
and mild contractions. I had been awoken by baby kicks before, but this was
different. It was a dull pain, kind of like a stomach ache. I thought, “Oh, my
gosh. This is it. She might be born today!” I was excited and relieved. More
relieved than anything. I went to the bathroom, saw that I lost my mucus plug,
and went back to sleep. Excitement washed over everyone’s face when I
told them later that morning that she was on her way.
The contractions carried on regularly but mildly throughout the morning. Knowing
this was a special day, I felt compelled to put on make-up and curl my hair. My
parents were surprised when I said I wanted to go out to lunch, but when a gal
is in a great mood, even contractions won’t keep her from going to Bahama
Breeze Island Grille. When we got there, the hostess asked when I was due, and I
gushed, “She’ll be here tonight or tomorrow!” I was like a birthday girl riding
around on her new Power Wheels convertible. Nothing could break my spirit! We
ate delicious food and wondered what she would look like. When we got back to
the house, we took one last photo as “just the two of us.” It was my last of my
babybump photos. The rest of the afternoon was spent quietly doing things around the
house, checking the hospital bags, and painting my toenails. (Zoya nail polish
in Lulu, if you must know.)
Contractions grew stronger at home around dinner time, and I used the
Full Term app to start tracking them. I was still talking and smiling through them, so I
knew we still had awhile before she would be born. We had been hoping we wouldn’t
be making a middle-of-the-night trip to the hospital, because sleep was a
precious commodity as it was, but that was exactly the path we were headed
down.
Bummer. I chatted with my
sister on FaceTime around 9:00 PM… and groaned through heavier contractions.
She was understanding every time I had to switch to audio-only so that I could access
the Full Term app for contractions which were about 5-7 minutes apart. She gave
me a birthing pep talk and reminded me that I COULD DO THIS! My brother-in-law
texted me a
hilarious meme, and my sister explained to my nephew that the baby
in my belly would come out soon.
We thought we were headed to the
hospital at 11:30 PM when contractions had me surrendering on the floor. For good measure, and to avoid being sent home for going
too early, my husband suggested that we call Labor & Delivery. I told the
nurse that contractions were 5 minutes apart and lasting 1 minute each, but she
advised that I wait a bit longer. I labored at home (meaning groaned and
moaned... loudly) while everyone else was in and out of sleep until 4:30 AM when the pain
got so strong that I started crying. I was unsure that I could stand the pain,
so my mom said we needed to be on our way. At my request, we blasted Gounod’s Faust
Waltz and Mendelssohn’s Symphony 4 in A Major as we drove down Germantown Parkway
to the hospital.
By the time we got to the hospital, I was squatting to the floor and
gripping the nearest sturdy object (table, chair, handrail, etc.) to make it
through every contraction. I was 5cm when I was admitted. It wasn’t until the
next day that I would realize how sore my arms would be from clutching the
bedrail during every contraction. I had a steel grip on those bedrails. The
next few hours were a blur. The nurses fluttered around preparing the room and
checking my blood pressure. My husband sat by my side, and my parents occupied
the couch against the wall. For some reason, I thought I could only have two
people in the room with me, but the nurse assured me that all three of them
could stay, if I wanted them to. I never asked my dad what he wanted to do;
instead, he was simply never instructed to go to the waiting room. I thought it
would be a special gift for him to be present for the birth of his
granddaughter.
I was 7cm dilated around 6:30 AM and told that my doctor was on his way. I felt the heaviness of our daughter as she moved into position to be born. The
pain was so strong that I wasn’t sure if I could deliver naturally, as
previously planned. I thought it but never said it aloud. I wasn’t ready to
change the plans just yet. I had progressed to 9cm by the time the doctor
arrived, and I thought, “Well, I guess it’s too late to change my mind now.” I
reminded myself of what my sister said: “There will be a point where you don’t
think you can do it, because you’ll be in so much pain, but you can do it! Just
stick with it!” My water was broken, and it was go time. I could feel myself bearing down with each contraction.
I pushed for a long time. An hour and a half? Two hours, maybe? I was a terrible pusher in the beginning. They
reminded me repeatedly to hold my breath and push. Every time I opened my mouth
to groan, they said, “Sweetie, you need to keep the air in and use that energy
to push. Don’t let the energy out through your mouth.” My eyes were closed for
most of the pushing. It felt easier to focus that way. Even though I wasn’t
looking around the room, I was keenly aware of the conversations in the room.
The
doctor’s cell phone rang, and a nurse called his wife back on his behalf.
The
doctor told my husband to move in next to him to observe.
The
doctor explained that the baby was working hard to get out.
(My
husband saw her head twisting back and forth!)
The
nurses told my husband to swing the washcloth for my forehead around like a
helicopter to cool it off.
I was getting tired. My legs were achy, so they extended my legs
between pushes. I kept asking “Why is it taking so long?” I felt like every
push would move her down, and then the tip of her head would disappear again. They
reassured me that she was almost there and that I was doing a great job. They
were so encouraging. My husband didn’t say much, but every pat on my leg and stroke of my hair was his silent cheer. I was so anxious to meet our daughter, and
I was getting excited. I was told to reach down to touch her head, and that was
my final motivation to push. Before I knew it, the nurse said, “Can you look
down? Look, Lindsay. Look, Lindsay.” Her head was out! “Watch her.” And the
doctor pulled her out.
She was placed on my chest at 9:20 AM on Sunday, February 22nd -- right on time. I started crying and said, “Happy
birthday, baby. We did it, baby!” At the sound of her first cry, the room let
out a laugh of joy. That was the sound of
our
child. I can't accurately, fully describe the kind of love that took over my body and my mind. Presley was here, and healthy, and perfect. I watched my husband become a father. Three generations of my family were gathered together. My husband cut the umbilical cord, as we requested. As they took Presley's stats and prints, my doctor congratulated me on delivering naturally. (He had warned me weeks earlier that many first-time moms change their minds at the hospital.) I never got angry or slung the quintessential "you did this to me" line at my husband, and I only swore once. (I said shit.) Honestly, I didn't feel anything but excited and tired. (Well, and pain, obviously.) At one point, one of the nurses jokingly asked me if I wanted to punch my husband, and I gave her an incredulous "no!"
Presley was returned to me, and she started nursing like a champ. She was an incredible gift that we were lucky to receive. She was ours. I was exhausted and could have used a nap, but I couldn't help but stare at her and smell her.
I still tear up watching the video clip of her being born. I can even feel the energy in the room that morning. Birth is beautiful and magical -- almost supernatural. It's been one month since Presley was born, and I still can't believe it all happened. Saying that I feel grateful or blessed doesn't even begin to describe it.
To be continued...
