A Baby Story
I was nervous.
I was excited.
I was sad.
I was ready. Well, maybe.
Three weeks ago my head and my heart were overflowing with every emotion imaginable. “Would this delivery be the same as my first?” “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to meet this little baby!” “This is our last day as a family of 3 😭. Will I have enough love for both of my boys?”
Turns out, nothing happens the way you imagine it, but becoming a mother for the second time is really something quite incredible.
First up: delivery.
With my first son, my water broke at home and I didn’t have one contraction until I got to the hospital. Things escalated, I got an epidural and a few hours later, O made his debut.
This time around, things went a bit differently. See, I’m 38 years old. And in the world of obstetrics, I’m considered geriatric. Yea, I know…as if I needed that label alongside all of my gray hairs sparkling on the top of my head from not coloring my hair for nine months. But I digress. Anyway, the recommendation by ACOG (American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology) is to deliver your baby by 39 weeks if you’re 35 or older. So there I was checking in to the hospital at 8pm with my husband, walker and Werther’s hard candies (kidding). The nurse asked if I had a birth plan – um no. And if I was requesting pain meds – YES to the epidural! She explained to me how the induction would go: After all the initial bloodwork and IV pokes, she would insert a little pill behind my cervix (sounds delightful, right?) that would begin to soften it to prepare for the pitocin to bring on contractions in the morning. I’d get two more doses throughout the night, but should only experience mild cramping. Nothing I couldn’t sleep through…
With cytotec in place, I was settled. Jason went home to be with O with plans to return at 6AM when I started on pitocin. By the way, “mild cramping” was the nice way of saying “manageable contractions”. I was able to breathe through them, but there was zero sleeping going on that night. It was around 2:30AM, just 30 minutes before I was due for the next dose of meds, when it felt like a Mack truck drove directly into my crotch and broke my water. Holy shit, you guys. It. Was. Intense. I paged the nurse, called Jason to get his butt back to the hospital and was about to embark on the fiercest 45 minutes of my life.
I went from mild contractions to the full-force, pile-driver kind that had me rolling around in pain. The nurse came in and checked me…I was three centimeters. Anesthesia was on the way so I’d be able to get the epidural, take a nap and be ready to deliver in a few hours. Well, by the time the Heaven-sent drug lady arrived, I wanted to push. Yep, just ten minutes later, I was seven centimeters and this baby wasn’t waiting for anyone. Except my husband, who arrived with minutes to spare.
No breaks between contractions.
No time for an epidural.
No doctor in the room.
Ten centimeters.
I didn’t care if the janitor was going to deliver this baby. I was pushing him out and someone better be there to catch him! Luckily, the hospitalist strolled (and I mean, literally, casually strolled) into the room, and three pushes, some hooting and hollering at an unreasonable volume later, out came our sweet boy at 3:24AM. First off, I couldn’t believe how FAST it all happened. Secondly, I couldn’t believe I actually did it without drugs. All eight pounds, five ounces and 20 inches of baby, au natural. I had no plans to be anyone’s hero that morning, but damn, I think I deserve a cape with my name on it!
I didn’t cry when L was born or when they set him on my chest, but the moment O walked in the room to see his baby brother that afternoon, I lost it. I’m actually getting teared up thinking about it now. To see the look in his eyes as he cautiously approached while I was nursing made my heart explode. He was instantly in love and so fascinated to finally see this baby we’ve been talking about for nearly a year. Remember when I said I was worried I wouldn’t have enough love for two kiddos? In that moment, all my worries melted away.
I never knew the kind of love you can have for someone until I became a mother, and when my son became a big brother, that love grew exponentially. These boys have stolen my heart in the most unimaginable way; I’d do anything for them…even go more than ankle-deep in the ocean or get my hair wet in the pool. You can ask Jason; pre-kids, both were a hard no in my book. I all seriousness, I prayed for a long time about having a second child. I don’t mean to get all holy here, but I reached out and asked God if we should try because I wasn’t sure. I asked if the time was right. Would it ever be? I told Him I felt grateful and blessed to have O and put my trust in His will either way. Prayer is a powerful thing and I wholeheartedly believe it played a strong role in our journey to becoming parents.
Becoming a mother brings out emotions from all corners of your mind and heart; it can be scary and beautiful all at the same time. The baby you’ve created (or have yet to create) is so lucky to have you to guide, love and protect him for the rest of your life. And you – mama – will be forever changed.
“Love as powerful as your mother’s leaves its own mark…to have been loved so deeply will give us some protection forever.” -J.K. Rowling
