birth story

Good thing it took nine months because it took me that long to accept it. My life was changing. I was going to have a baby. The most influential person in my life had changed from my mother to a man I had only known for about a year. I was exactly what I preached against for at least the previous 6 or 7 years of my life. I was a girl who got pregnant. It wasn't until about month 8 that I accepted my reality and acknowledged that I didn't have to be labeled as a stereotype. Not as a tramp, not as a dumb young girl, not as a mother, not as a housewife. Only 20 years old, I still had my whole life to decide what I wanted to be. Becoming a wife and a mother didn't have to mean that's all I'd ever be. Some people make those the main labels of their lives. I plan for them to mean no more than tall, short, skinny, or fat. Housewife and motherhood are definitely big enough to stand alone but for me they are simply a strong base to be build upon.

It took 41 weeks and one day for me to come to that conclusion. Wednesday, September 16, 2009, turned my life around for the better. A day I regained my confidence after 9 months of doubt and self-pity. As of January 5th of the same year I thought death would be the easiest, and somehow I almost convinced myself, the best option. Like the ribbon in the middle of the tug-a-war rope, I let myself be pulled in opposite directions by myself and everyone around me. Finally, my body knew I was ready to bring Sophia Irene Marie into the world. Wednesday morning began around 11am for Daniel and me. I casually walked to the kitchen with my mind racing trying to decide whether or not the ache in my lower back was really there or just wishful thinking being as I was over a week past my due date. I expressed my discomfort nonchalantly to my husband and nonchalantly recommended I get some Vitamin D by the pool. After a couple hours of sunbathing and debating whether or not this ache was coming and going at any consistent rate, I headed up the curvy stairs to our simple little condo. It was time to travel to Mississippi to have dinner with my parents and my mother-in-law at the Singing River Yacht Club. While laying by the pool accompanied by a good friend Alicia Reeves, I had concluded that the ache was intensifying for about a 45 seconds every 20 minutes. So for the 45 minutes car ride to the club Daniel was adamantly timing my "contractions", although I was still hesitant to claim that I was actually in labor. From that point until we arrived back in Mobile around 9pm, this back ache had been consistent every 5 minutes. Walk. Walk. Walk. All we heard in Bradley class. So what did we do albeit tired and hot? We walked. Around campus with Marley and Dylan, our pups or oldest children. Stopping every 3 minutes to deal with contractions as they started to get stronger by this point. We made it to the top of the steps just as the rain began to fall.

The next several hours consisted of warm baths, lavender oil, very interrupted sleep, and finally left me sitting on my exercise ball in the middle of our living room around 4 a.m. Thursday morning. I was in a different place as if all by myself. I didn’t think of anything else in the world. I was focused on a different level, an out of body experience as if I was floating above the Earth. For the next hour, I went from covered in blankets to naked with a cold rag on my forehead. It was a quiet affair until I was suddenly puking in the garbage can. That's about the time I recommended we call our midwife. It was about 5 a.m. In the silence of the morning I could hear everything she was asking my husband on the phone. It wasn't until I heard him respond with "they are about 1 minute apart" that I had a negative thought. And that was simply, "This car ride is going to suck". It was time. I slipped on a dress and we headed out the door. I closed my eyes and focused on NPR. My husband admitted later that he was sure my labor had slowed down because I didn't make a peep the entire ride.

After arriving at the cottage in Long Beach, Mississippi, the midwife checked my progression and to my relief announced that I was already 8 centimeters dilated. Only 2 more to go before I would possibly be ready to push. After about 5 contractions standing in the middle of the room swaying with my eyes half closed as my husband and midwife scrambled to unload the car and set things up, I decided to try a different position to deal with the strongest contraction I had felt thus far. As soon as I knelt on the bed, I realized it was not comfortable for me and as I leaned back to stand my water broke. Strangest sensation I have ever felt. Just like a water balloon fell from between my legs. Luckily, I was standing right over the lap pads, which soaked it all up.

I was standing in the bathroom as my husband helped me take off my wet dress, when I first felt the urge to push. It was uncontrollable. I couldn't resist. So as I sat on the toilet to rest I shouted for the midwife. Once the contraction passed we moved to the bedroom just a few feet away. I sat on the bed with my husband, my support, my love right next to me and as he talked me through it I began to push with each contraction. The pressure was drastically increasing with each contraction as the baby made her way down. Wanting to show me that I really was making progress, our midwife grabbed my hand, and I felt just the crown of the baby's head peeking out of my body. Between each contraction, I fell back on Daniel while he shoveled Sonic ice chips into my mouth, and I chomped like a cow. Finally, I was almost there so I decided I was just going to push until the baby came out. And then at 7:30 a.m. in a quiet, simple, little bedroom there was a wet, floppy, Big baby on my stomach. As we all anticipated that first cry, I anxiously flipped the little human being around to announce that it was a girl. A big girl (10lbs. 3oz.) who after a brief second of hesitation relieved us all with her first cry. To watch her skin go from blue to pink was like seeing God’s hand reach down and touch her. We all cried and gasped for the breath the moment had stolen from our bodies. I would have told you labor was over at that point if I hadn’t caught a glimpse of my knees shaking. It was about 20 minutes before the placenta delivered and my job was finally over. Or really just beginning.
It was about 5 p.m. when I found myself back at Spanish Villa resting in my own bed with the baby that had just been inside of my body less than 11 hours before lying next to me. Her father restlessly peering over us snapping pictures.
For me there was no specific moment when I really felt like a mother. The transition happened smoothly. I don’t feel much different. Life is a lot more fun though.