It started a year ago today; that unstoppable train of patience, contractions and eventually, labor. My baby boy was coming.
I woke at 5:30 and I felt the first twinge. I didn't think much of it, since I'd been having false labor pains already for nearly a month. I dropped Jacob off at school, then headed to work. I had an appointment with my Ob/gyn and then after that a kick-count test at the hospital. I warned my boss that I was having contractions and that if I didn't return back to work, that she knew the reason why! My co-workers laughed it off. They knew all about the Braxton Hicks and just thought I was "crying wolf" again.
At my kick-count appointment, the doctor assured me that things were "moving along" and recommended that I go home and relax until the time came. I picked up Jacob from school, now fully into contractions. Nick got home from work and "that time came" shortly after. We headed off to the hospital (for real this time!) and I was admitted at 5:30 pm.
The doctor broke my water and I staved off having the epidural until about 9 pm. However after the epidural, things intensified, making the contractions much worse. I'd heard stories from Nick's friends that they couldn't feel anything below the waist and that the nurse would have to tell them when they were contracting so that they could push. I had the worst pressure, like holding back an unstoppable force. I had to push, I just HAD to! But I couldn't, the nurse said I was far from ready. I lay on my side, tears squeezing from my eyes as each contraction waved over me, getting more and more intense and more frequent. I breathed slowly, taking a long time to blow out the air, chanting like a mantra, "don't push don't push don't push". It was an eternity of trying to relax my uterus, imagining my cervix opening up like a lotus blossom. Midnight came and went. My baby would not be born today. I wanted to push, damn it!! Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I cried out to Nick, who felt helpless to do anything. He ran out and grabbed a nurse. "Yes, go ahead and push." It had been over 2 hours of pressure and I could finally push!
The nurse looked and said, "It shouldn't be very long...his head is right there" My heart jumped. I had new-found energy. Perhaps she only told me that to keep up my morale because if she'd told me the truth, that I would be pushing for over 2 hours straight, I might have decided to give up right there. They tried different positions, lifting my legs this way and that.
Finally his head came to the surface. The nurse held up a mirror so that I could see. Dark swirly hair, just like I'd seen in my dream.
At 2:22 he appeared, quicker than a wink. I still can't believe how quickly he popped out after being stuck for so long. He was much smaller than they'd expected. I was worried about a 10 lb baby and here he was, so tiny at just 6 lbs 13 oz.
After the agonizing wait, when they took him to the table to clean him up and inspect the lip and palate, they slipped a cap on his cone head, wrapped him tight and brought him to me.
He squinted up into my face. I kissed that crooked, flat nose and touched the miniature notch in
his lip. I stuck my tongue out at him and he mirrored me, sticking his out too. Nick laughed. I tried to nurse right away and it was difficult from the start. Ian had a difficult time latching with the break in suction at the notch and the broken muscle where his lip had healed in utero.
The memories are so close still, though it's been a year. I have a hard time thinking of this toddler as the same baby, the one with the blood-matted hair. That curled-up, limp body is now the same sturdy one that staggers around the room. This face isn't the same one is it? Those puffy almond shaped eyes look so different than the enormous round eyes that look at me now. But yes, this is the same boy who nuzzles against me at night, warm and soft. The same boy I dreamed about before I held him in my arms. Forever my baby. Happy Birthday Ian!