Birthday Season. That’s what we Nelson’s call the weeks between mid-March and early April. In those weeks, we celebrate the days on which my three children made their earthly entrances… March 16, March 25 and April 7. Wonderful days, those.
I’ve always known I’d be a mother, not an unusual belief for a woman of my generation. Thing is, I’ve always known that I’d give it my all, that raising kids would be one of my great endeavors. This was not typical for a bright, academically-inclined woman coming of age in the late 1970’s. I was expected to do great things, change the world, ACHIEVE. Thing is, by raising my family, that’s exactly what I did.
The Good Husband (TGH) and I fell in love completely and early. I knew by age 18 that he would be a good partner and parent, and that he would father my children. I spent the next several years learning the skills necessary to be a good parent myself.
When we married, just after I finished student teaching, we had a “first baby in 5-years plan.” Didn’t work out that way. Daughter #1 arrived 13 months later, changing our lives forever, and for the better.
Two weeks overdue, I was thrilled when TGH arrived home from a three-week assignment on an oil rig that was a day’s travel away. Happy to be reunited before b-day, we spent the next day walking through the gardens at The Huntington Library, and I went into labor at ten o’clock the next night. TGH slept while I dozed and dreamed of what lay ahead. By eight the next morning, I was ready to go to the hospital where we spent the next seven hours cosseted in a labor room. We labored away while outdoors a spring storm raged and the teen in an adjacent room heartbreakingly raged, “Get this thing out of me! I don’t want it! Mama, make them take it out!”
I was equally anxious to complete the task at hand, but by gum, I was going to do it with strength and dignity. I’m big on dignity. I faithfully practiced my Lamaze breathing and knew without a doubt when it was time to push. And push I did. Daughter #1 popped into the world after 16 hours of labor and only one contraction’s worth of pushing. The most beautiful baby born that day (seriously – lots of people told us that), D#1 snuggled on my chest while the doctor stitched me up; and I was sitting Indian style in the middle of my bed, eating a full meal three hours later. Birthing at age 22 is easy. So is recovering. I wore all my old clothes by the time D#1 was ready for her 6-week check up. Let me tell you now, that never happened again!
Three years later (perfectly planned so that I, an elementary school teacher, could be home until the new baby was 6-months old), Son-The-One-&-Only was born. Arriving nine days after big sis’ birthday (again, planned… didn’t want immediate resentment of a new sib), he was, like all of my babies, about two weeks late; but he wasn’t supposed to come that day either.
Early in the morning, March 25, 1985, TGH and I trekked to the hospital for a scheduled Fetal Non-Stress Test. Since I was overdue, my ob-gyn wanted to make sure the baby was still nourished. While lying on the table, wide monitor strapped across my bulging belly, I felt a familiar twinge. “I think I’m starting labor.” I told the attending nurse. Laughing, she patted my shoulder, saying. “Honey, you will not be having this baby today and may not have it this week. You’re not even close.”
Trusting the experienced professional, TGH and I began the thirty-minute drive home. But before we reached our freeway off-ramp, my contractions required focused breathing. Once home, TGH made additional babysitting arrangements for D#1 and I paced the family room, keeping time. Two hours after leaving the hospital, we were on our way back. Labor was so advanced I couldn’t sit comfortably, so I lay down in the backseat. TGH paled. He did not want to deliver his own child on the shoulder of Southern California’s Interstate-10.
We arrived. He parked. I got out of the car. “What can I do? What should I do?” Asked TGH. ~And this is how I know I was “in transition” (And you thought PMS was a bitch. If you don’t know, look it up) ~ “Just shut up and walk, God Damn It!” He did.
Back in the same hallway, I looked at the same nurse. “I need to push!”
No rooms were available.
“I still need to push!”
I was literally guided around a corner and given a gown in a back hallway. Completely without shame, I stripped bare, put on that gown and hauled myself onto the skinny little gurney that the shocked nurse provided. The on-duty doc checked me, announcing, “She’s right. She needs to push.” And so I did. Right there in the hallway, as well as in the short maze of not-at-all private hallways that the nurse and TGH trundled me through. My privates no longer were. Without thought or hesitation, I pulled my knees to me ears (I’m very limber) and I pushed. I pushed so hard, I broke dozens of little blood vessels in my face, neck and chest, and was instantly dotted with tiny red and blue bruises. By the time we got to a room, he’d arrived. Three hours of labor from beginning to end. Quickly stitched up, I was immediately wheeled back into a hallway and the next delivering mom entered the room. Busy day in labor and delivery.
In a dark, quiet hallway, I cuddled my baby boy, whose smell was uniquely his own and whose adoring face wrought true that a mother can love more than one child with all her heart. Two decades later, when he nearly died, I stood in another little room, breathing in his wonderfully unique smell and hoped that my adoring face proved to him that my love was and always would be unconditional and pure. I think it did.
With a boy and a girl, TGH and I thought we might be done, but two years later I had a dream. In my opinion, it was right up there with MLK’s. A young woman visited me in my sleep and pronounced herself my daughter. She also made clear that she was awaiting my cooperation and was ready for this earthly sphere. I know. A little “woo-woo.” But true. The next morning I told TGH and, as has always been the case, he supported me. A few months later we were expecting another girl.
On D#1’s 6th birthday, as I ushered the last party guest out the front door, my body set things into motion. But it was early; I hadn’t expected it. And I shouldn’t have. For the next three weeks I remained in mild labor until my doc did some blood work and determined that my body wasn’t producing enough Oxytocin for the process to progress. He invited me to come to the maternity ward the next morning at nine where he began an IV “Pit-drip.” Like clockwork, I was in the delivery room in three hours flat.
That’s where the drama began. With each contraction D#2’s heart rate became erratic. When I was fully dilated, my doc plunged (I’m frickin’ serious here—plunged!) both hands into the birth canal to figure out what was going on. “Don’t Push!” He shouted. “Stop pushing. The cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck.” I didn’t push, but it was darn hard not to. Deftly, the doctor turned the baby and released the cord from her neck, then told me to push. I did, and she flew on out. Really—she propelled. Thank God the doc was a good catch. And then she cried. And she cried. That baby cried so long and so hard that the nurses refused to allow her into the nursery. Fortunately she got it all out early, and proved to be the easiest baby of all.
So there you have it. Three babies born in six years, when their mama was 22, 25 and 28. And now, as of today, my babies are 22, 25 and 28. Seems like the right time to tell their birth stories. I hope this is the right time for you to tell yours. Please use the comment function here or send me an email with your story attached. Let’s share the wonder and the glory of every birthing story.
Birthday season is September at Chez V. My son’s birthday is nine months after my mother’s. My daughter’s is nine months after mine. Lots of significance attached to the dates. I could write an entire post or two on the how and the why, but I’ll try to be brief here.
The Boy, my first, was due toward the end of October. On Labor Day weekend, I left the office and my boss said, “It’s Labor Day weekend, don’t go into labor!” Ha ha ha. Except I did. Sitting at the dining room table, eating dinner and reading a book on labor and delivery, I felt a gush of fluid and said to my Man: “My water just broke.” He didn’t even look up from his plate: “That’s not possible. You’re not due yet.” He was wrong.
On the way to the hospital, my borderline OCD husband was obsessing over me getting amniotic fluid on the upholstery of his truck seat. I stayed outwardly calm and inwardly fretted over what was ahead and the health of our baby. They tried to stop labor but couldn’t. My hopes of a non-medicated birth were dashed as I was hooked up to monitors, oxygen, an IV. The Boy was positioned sunny side up, and every contraction drove his skull into my spine. No amniotic fluid to cushion him or me. He was born sporting many bruises 12 hours later, almost two months early, and whisked away to the ICU before I could even hold him.
A traumatic start and a rough beginning for both of us.
I lost my second pregnancy. The Boy, then a toddler, went to the hospital for a simple outpatient procedure and everything went wrong. We ended up in the pediatric ward of a university hospital for almost two weeks. Possibly the worst two weeks of my life. When he was released, he required home health care for four more weeks. At the end of that four weeks, I lost my pregnancy. I’ve always wondered if the enormous stress of my son’s illness led me to lose my second child.
Fortunately heaven’s gate opened again for me and soon I was pregnant with the Girl. And I was afraid. Afraid of losing the pregnancy or of delivering prematurely again. I was tired. I had Braxton-Hicks contractions beginning in my second trimester. Every bit of exertion caused contractions, and while I wasn’t put on strict bed rest, I was told to take it easy–hard to do with a toddler in the house and a husband who traveled a lot in his job.
I counted every day of the pregnancy, each one a step toward what I hoped would be a happy ending. I went into labor the day after the Girl was due. In the pre-cellphone era, I had trouble reaching the Man. An hour passed. And he, for reasons I can’t explain, had driven his old classic car to work that day. One that was not always easy to get started. He worked an hour away and the hospital was another 30 minute drive farther out.
By the time he arrived home, my contractions were minutes apart and feeling strong. I greeted him in the garage and said, “We’ve got to get going.” He as always, was most interested in HIS VEHICLE. He spent precious time talking to the babysitter about his classic car and giving her detailed instructions on how she needed to let the engine cool down with the car in the driveway, and then she needed to start it following XYZ procedure and move it into the garage and put the cover on it *just so*. Sigh. This is what it’s like to be married to an engineer.
We made it to the hospital and the midwife predicted I’d deliver in less than two hours. I was quiet and zen like during labor, breathing through the pain, staying focused. My nurse was absolutely silent and low key. When the Girl moved into the birth canal, I got a bit noisy. The nurse told me to be quiet and the midwife quickly said, “Grunt all you want!”
I delivered my Girl without any medication and needed a lot of stitches afterwards. Oh the pain of those stitches. I tried not to scream because I was holding her, admiring the big round head and broad shoulders that had done the damage. She was so alert, bright eyes fixed on me. She stayed awake for more than 15 hours after birth. After having had a preemie, I was amazed by her size and strength.
Today the Boy is 14, the Girl is 12. Happy, healthy, blessed.
So glad you were gifted with a problem-free delivery. Both children are precious blessings, each in their own grand way, entrance included.
When I was 15 my first birth story begins. I was awake and getting ready for school, a morning ritual that I doubt I will ever duplicate in its obsessiveness again. My mother, forty-four at the time was in the kitchen when her water broke. She swears was she dropped a glass of water on the floor because of the pain of her contraction, but that is the beauty of memory; she has hers, and I have mine. Whether or not her water broke, she was on her way to the hospital with my step-father to deliver my half-sibling. And I, well, I was on my way to school. Because of her “advanced age” I was convicted to a day in High School, in case something were to go awry- at least I would be safe in the confines of my high school (?!)At least it was Valentines Day, and I had scours of flowers, balloons, and chocolate to take my mind of off the excitement that was taking place without me at the hospital. I have never since been so showered in Valentine ’s Day hullabaloo than I was in the year of 1990.
I suffered through several classes to hear any news, boy or girl- and weight. This was of extreme importance because there was money involved. As a family we had begun a baby pool- boy or girl, date of birth and weight. I think the jackpot was 25 bucks, a fortune to me at the time, and I wanted to win it. I did not. Finally, in 7th period History with The Worst Teacher In The World, (and I think I am qualified to say this as I was a teacher in one of my nine lives,) the door to our classroom opened. We were all temporarily blinded us from whatever movie T.W.T.I.T.W. had us watching that day as an aide brought a stapled shut note to him, with my name written across the front. T.W.T.I.T.W. completely ignored the staples and my name, opened the memo, read the contents, then announced to the class that my mother had delivered a baby boy- nine pounds, and 21 inches long. I was so happy I almost forgot to be angry with T.W.T.I.T.W. for being too nosy for his own good.
It’s important that I share RJ’s (my brother) birth story because from the moment I met him, I knew that with out a doubt that my purpose on this planet was to be a mother. I often took it upon myself to try and mother him (oh let’s face it, I still try), but I am eternally grateful that I waited another 15 years before having a child of my own.
Fast forward 10 years, after meeting and falling in love with the only man on the planet that I could stand spending an eternity with, I was eager to begin our family. We dated for several years prior to marrying, so he agreed that after one year of marriage we would begin trying for a baby. We were pregnant 10 months later. I did everything by the book- and then took 12 more precautions. I loved this child from what felt like my own birth date. I did not find out the gender, but knew in my heart it was a boy. I could not wait to meet him. We took parenting classes, birth classes, and I even hired a doula for the birth. I was planning on a natural birth. I handle pain well, and after all, women for generations had been delivering babies in rice fields, I was sure I would deliver my baby without the aid of modern medicine.
I was three days past my due date. And after extreme caution for 40 weeks I was fed up. We drove up north to see some friends. Everyone outside of myself, enjoyed a few too many cocktails, and then everyone got me dancing to see if this musical baby wanted to make it’s way into the world. After hours of dancing “figure eights” I drove us home and went to bed-with some slight abdominal tightening that insured I would stay awake over-analyzing everything and not get the rest I needed. By the next morning I was sure I was in Labor- so we began timing the contractions. They were a minute in duration and five minutes apart, so on we went to the hospital. Upon arrival at the hospital I was over the idea of a natural birth. Those contractions hurt like hell. We called my doula, and together with my husband they encouraged me to wait until I was dilated to 5 cm before allowing me to get the epidural. Oh how things changed then- I relaxed and laughed my way open to 10 cms, when all of a sudden I began to feel pressure- so my nurse, my doula and my husband encouraged me to push. And Push I did. And did. And did. I pushed for four hours, until finally someone figured out that I had somehow managed to disconnect my Epidural (be careful what you wish for) and that is why I felt the pressure. Finally after 20 hours of labor, at around 10:30 PM we were so exhaustedly relieved to welcome our baby girl (!) little Katherine Faye into the world. I got my natural childbirth, and decided on the spot that I would never do that with out the aide of very powerful drugs again. She had a full head of dark hair, and of course she was the most beautiful creature ever born on this earth. She is now almost four and battles a life long auto immune disease with grace and ease. As it turns out is proving to teach me just about as much as I teach her.
Around the time of little Kat’s first birthday we had begun to discuss how we would like another child- little knowing that one was already developing in the womb. After feeling like a zombie for weeks, and being overly disgusted with the scent of my dog, I decided it was time for a pregnancy test. In defense of “the accident” excuse- we were not trying to get pregnant, nor were we not trying. We merely had thought that perhaps another would be nice. Surprise!
I went in to labor on a Monday evening. I was completely stressed out about going to the hospital because we had no family nearby or in town at the time, and I had no idea who would watch Katherine. I was having some pretty regular contractions so at around 1:00 am we headed to the hospital, only to have the contractions seize completely- so they sent us home. Tuesday I was having really intense contractions- but they were pretty far apart, until around 4:00 pm when they started to gain momentum and power/ Around 8:00pm as soon as we got Katherine to bed, I told JD that we would once again be going to the hospital. We were both a little apprehensive, not wanting to get sent home again, but we had already called in caregivers to watch Katherine so we went on in.
They admitted us immediately – to the same hospital where Katherine was born, but when we got to our room something was just terribly wrong. Everything was backwards, nothing felt right. I could not even disrobe and put on the hospital gown. My wonderful husband called in the nurse and asked if by chance there was any other room that we could be moved to- and there happened to be one other room free. The free room happened to be, the exact same room where I gave birth to Katherine. That was all I needed to do this. This time, it was just my husband and I and our wonderful nurse Amy- the nurse who checked to make sure my epidural was still connected every hour on the hour. The birth of my son was an incredibly peaceful process that I would not have changed for the world. I even dozed off a little during the transition phase. It was a highly intimate process, with just JD (my amazing, amazing husband) our nurse Amy and I in the room, until the very last few pushes when our doctor arrived. I felt totally in control and only had to push for about an hour (so much better than the nearly 4 with Katherine). When it was finally time to free our son I pushed him out, head, neck and body with one strong push. Carter Douglas entered the world in the exact same hospital room as his sister, weighing in at exactly the same 8 pounds 10 ounces, and measuring exactly the same length-20.5 inches long. I was completely torn up but felt so proud and just happy about the whole experience. I’m not sure if he felt quite as happy.
Following the tradition of not really planning a pregnancy- This time right around Carter’s First Birthday I just knew I was pregnant. I could not understand how, since we had in fact taken precautions against such an event, but my gut just knew. Oh Boy. This one we called “Lucky” the entire pregnancy.
While I was just a few months pregnant JD was told that his company would be transferring him to Huntsville AL. We already lived too far from our families in Colorado, but Huntsville would be even further from both. JD began to look for work. He was offered two entirely different jobs, and we decided on the one in Tucson, Arizona because of it’s proximity to family. We lived in a dumpy little apartment for months until our home found us, and thankfully we closed before the baby arrived. The home has an amazing outdoor space that had been overlooked for several years.
I spent days and days pulling up and trimming back plants that had not been attended to for years. My children would nap and I would grab a shovel and take my 8 month pregnant body out front and start digging up volunteer plants. In retrospect, I know exactly when my water broke. I was pulling out a bunch of aloe that had traveled to an area where it did not belong. I felt something never so small, but did not feel a gush of water.
I went to bed and woke a different person. All of a sudden I could not bend over. Walking was labored, and I just had no energy. I thought that the baby’s head must have settled into my pelvis, and went on with my day. It got worse. Around four I started having massive contractions, and called everyone. My mom started driving up from Phoenix, JD home from work, I even called our neighbors across the street to help care for the kids. I was shaking (I’ll later refer to this as my palsy- it got really bad) and decided to take my temperature. 102.5. Wow that was higher than I had imagined, so I called the doc. I told them of my temperature and achiness and she told me to take two Tylenol. I did as I was told. JD got home, the neighbors agreed to watch the kids until my mom arrived, and we were ready to go to the hospital, except for one thing. My contractions had stopped. We got in the car and started driving anyway- when we decided to call the doc again. We told her the fever was on it’s way down- and that the contractions had stopped, she told us to go on home.
I was up several timed during the night taking Tylenol or a bath, because the fever and aches would return as soon as the Tylenol wore off. I decided that I had to go to the doctor Thursday morning because something was just not right. JD took the morning off, I went in and saw a nurse, who asked me if my water had broken. I told her that I would have no idea if my water had broken because this baby has taken all bladder control away from me and I leaked urine all the time. She was nonplussed by this statement and continued to check my cervix and told me that my contractions were making progress and that I was 2 cm dilated, and “ripe”. I went home that day and had a friend come to help with the kids in the afternoon. I was so very tired.
I went to bed early that night, but woke up several times with contractions and severe body overheating when the Tylenol would wear off. The highest temperature I took was 103.5. I got through the night, and in the morning was convinced that I had the flu. I had whole body shakes, aches and this high fever that would spike every time the Tylenol would wear off. I called the OB again because of the fever. Told them everything and the receptionist, not the doctor, told me to go to Labor and Delivery for an evaluation. JD had already left for work, so I called my brother (who by this time had one of our cars) and asked him to come and help with the kids during the day since I thought I had the flu. I had decided that I would go to L and D with JD when he got home from work, and just rest the rest of the day. This would have worked if the Tylenol would have kept the fever at bay for more than 2 hours. By 1:00 I couldn’t keep the fever at bay for more than a few hours, and I was making poor decisions and taking another dose before I should have because I did not want the baby overheating.
I called JD and we went to Land D at around 2:00 pm.
After forcing me to wear a mask (I might have swine flu as far as everyone is concerned) and locking me in an eval room designated for swine flu patients – no curtains- b/c they has to be laundered after ever patient. A nurse finally came in and evaluated me. They took my temp orally- and it was normal -the Tylenol had kicked in. We went through all of my symptoms- and still nothing. The doc on call from me OB’s office- the only one I’d dealt with for the last 3 days came in, took one look at me and said “oh you’re fine.” Let’s see what your blood work comes back as, but you don’t have the flu. I told her that she was seeing me on Tylenol, but she did not seem to hear me.
SO we waited, a little while later I got up to go to the bathroom when I got uncontrollable shakes, I looked like a palsy patient. I could barely make it back to the bed on my own where I continued to spasm for another 10 minutes. At this point I was begging for Tylenol when the nurse told me that the Doctor had forbidden it- because she wanted to see where I was when it wore off. At this point I was measuring about 101.
In the meantime the amniotic fluid test came back positive, but my doc wanted a different more expensive test just to be sure – which also came back positive pretty quickly. It was at this point we learned that we would be giving birth that night.
Around 7:00ish I was finally taken over to delivery where I was still asking someone to give me a fever reducer (I was now around 103.5 and shaking badly) They started an IV and antibiotics and we discussed what the next several hours would look like- including the option of a c-section – which was the only way I thought they would ever get the baby out of me I was feeling so weak!
Things got much better over the next four hours, with a few doses of antibiotics in me and a fever reducer- I was feeling better and once I got the epidural, I knew I could do anything. So we just napped and waited for me to dilate. I shut down at 4-5 cms for few hours and there was more talk about a c-section because my uterus had this “infection” and was not working- but we got it going again and when the time came it only took a few (7 to be exact) pushes to get little Jack out- at 5:27 in the morning.
The NICU team came rushing in to evaluate him, and he seemed to pass all tests. I thought we were in the clear and they stitched me up and sent me to our recovery room while Jack and JD went to the nursery for his bath. I remember them bringing him to me so I could nurse him, and he was just so peaceful sleeping that I did not push it too much. The next thing I remember is a team of doctors in our room telling me that Jack’s blood sugar was 20 and that they had to take him to the NICU for a spinal tap and blood tests and that there was no way he’d be leaving the hospital with in the next 48 hours. Seriously? Hadn’t we been through enough?
The rest is a blur of night- time feedings on the other side of the hospital every time they called me and a bunch of wires hanging off of my newborn child. Luckily all the test for infection came back negative and we finally got to take our little Jack home. I still think his nick name “lucky” will follow him wherever he goes.
Dear Sarah,
I love your stories. As mothers, we are all connected by the birthing experience; and as women, you and I seem connected in a lovely and surprising way. Thank you for sharing, both here and in the real world.
~K
Wonderful and stressful stories! I have two beautiful children. Will, 38 almost and Kate, 26. Big age difference. No husband in between. I was 17 when Willie was born, not ready or wanting to be a “mom.” He entered the world pointy headed due to forceps, weighing in at 8 lbs and 7 oz. Yes, I wore my prepregnant clothes home. I graduated high school two weeks later. I do not reccommend this young ladies. A precious “life” gift deserves better. I soon fled the violence and became a single mom. My mother, bless her, was there for my son. I graduated with an AA degree and better jobs. I was growing up along with Will.
I re-met an incredible man (that story is for another day) and moved Will and myself to CA. Whew, away from family. We decided to get married. Started planning the wedding and discovered I was pregnant. The CA. doctor said to terminate due to the hormones I was taking, but a call to my former AZ doctor said congratulations. I was 5 months along when we exchanged vows. I wanted another boy and my husband did as well. I was sure God had another plan. The due date was December 27. I was ready so on December 17 I decided to tempt fate and swallowed a laxative. Christmas shopping in the afternoon and bam contractions. To the hospital after a quick stop at home to get a bag and try to find Willie. Called friends Wayne and Lynnette to get Willie and race to the hospital. It is 5 o’clock. I am 5 cm and told to relax. I get up to walk and sit on the toilet, yep that was my plan. In one minute the contractions go wild and I want to push, the baby is on her way. Nobody is in scrubs or ready. I get lifted to the bed and Skip(hubby) is told to rub my arm and tell me to breathe thru the next contractions. He takes one look at my face and replies nope doc she isn’t going to listen to me. Katie made her entrance at 5:25, 6 lbs and 8 oz. Wayne, Lynnette and Willie arrived before six. What a day. Katie had medical complications and returned to the hospital after 3 days at home but with agressive treatment she came home again in two weeks. I was ready this time to be a “mom” to both my children. I think age 26 is good for child birth. (I was 29 the second and last time)
So glad you shared, Barb. Although I’ve known you for a long time, I’ve never heard your birthing stories. Sharing them creates new connections and bonds. I love it!
Where do I start….I met my future husband in grade school at Our Lady Of Lourdes in Montclair. We started dating in High School, breaking up and making up along the way. I always knew one day we would get married. We were married for 5 1/2 years and decided to start our family. It was Rick’s idea. Little did I know, the week I found out I was pregnant, he would leave, never to be seen again. With the help of a wonderful family and beautiful friends, I began this journey alone. Alone in only that I had no husband to share this miracle. His family wanted nothing to do with me either, telling me that I should have an abortion. That would be the better thing to do. Yeah right!!! I went to my weekly Dr’s appointment, only to be told probably another 2 weeks. I went into the backyard to see my 2 faithful companions, and proceeded to scoop some poop. My water broke… called the Dr’s office and was told to go to the hospital. I was not due for another 2 1/2 weeks so they hooked me up to Pertocin to start my contractions. And boy did it ever. Hard contractions from the get go. They lasted 6 hours. Into this world came a beautiful baby girl. With a head full of black hair and no eyebrows….Where in the heck did that come from. I had my sister and my good friend Francie as my coaches and they did a wonderful job. Now….the fun began. Apparently I have a problem with my afterbirth coming out. So my poor Dr. and poor me, he had to take it out by hand. I am here to tell you that hurts worse than having a baby. My beautiful baby girl Sara and I went home a couple days later to start our new life together. Fast forward to Mother’s Day. I ended up in the hospital having an D & C to take out that last piece of afterbirth that was left in and causing me to hemmorage.
When Sara was about 4 I met a wonderful man. Never having children of his own was ready to take on a whole new lifestyle. He loved this beautiful little girl as if she was his own. We married after 3 years together and never planned on having any children. We were after all alittle older and life was good. Well, I was supposed to get a trip to Bora Bora for my 40th birthday. Instead I got a one way ticket to the maternity ward to have my little Michelle. I was sitting at work thinking I might be in labor, but since I didn’t begin labor by myself with Sara, I didn’t quite know. I called the Dr and they said to go to the hospital and be checked since the Dr’s were all out. I got to the hospital and the nurse on duty was my cousins best friend. She checked me out and told me I wasn’t ready yet, only dilated to 1 and just go to my parents since we live in Temecula. Well, as I was waiting for my husband, (he was in San Diego) to get there I started pacing. Mike finally got there, but of course parked like 100 miles away, or so it seemed. He put his hand on my back and being the nice wife that I am, told him to “Please don’t touch me!” We got to my parents in Ontario, and since I had been pacing it seemed to excellerate my contractions. He thought he should time them. Yikes!!!! 1 minute apart…. Off we went back to the hospital. Upon my arrival back there, the nurses started laughing asking me why I’m back so soon. I told her right then and there I needed to push. Yep I sure did. Fully dialated and ready to go. All in the span of 1/2 hour. They had to 911 the Dr. No sooner did he get there out came beautiful Michelle. I told this new Dr. the problems I had after I had Sara. This time it was 100 times worse. I lost half of my blood and had to go into emergency surgery at 4:00 that morning to stop my bleeding. But you know after everything I went through, I would not of changed anything. I have 2 beautiful girls, 23 and 12. Sara is about to become a mother herself. And Bora Bora can wait for another few years……
Beautiful stories, Cindy. I had no idea, of course, about the past challenges you overcame. But knowing your sweet spirit from so long ago, I’m not at all surprised by your happy present… and future. Blessings! And thank you for sharing.
My son-in law and daughter lived in Waco, Texas and my husband and I traveled there, arriving on Sun. May 12, 1991. We got there late in the afternoon and our daughter didn’t seem quite herself but due date was a few days off, so thought that was normal. Later my husband and I decided to take a walk and when we returned there was a note on the table that they had gone to the hospital. Well, you can imagine our excitement!! We had the directions and so we took off. Soon I saw a sign and said, “there it is”.
Well, all I saw was hospital and it turned out to be an animal hospital. We laughed a lot about that as the years have gone by.
Our first granddaughter was born 23 years to the day that I had had a radical mastectomy and was not given much of a chance to survive 5 years, since it had gone into my lymph system. Well, here I am 40 years later. It was tough but I made it because somebody did something right. I’m now 75 and have seen 4 more grandchildren born when I thought I’d not see my own children grow up.
Miracles happen all the time. Here’s clear proof. What a wonderful legacy you’ve created and enjoyed.
My husband proposed as we opened presents on our third Christmas Eve together. The following April we found out I was pregnant. Apparently missing one pill is all it takes. We’d just hired a photographer for our newly chosen wedding date. He ended up capturing our impromptu wedding in the middle of July when we decided we were getting married before our home pregnancy test turned into a real live baby bump. Initially I thought I’d been jipped out of the right to “plan” for the conception of our first child, when I find someone who was able to plan I will revert back.
I knew the day Olivia was going to arrive. Not because of some deep communication between my unborn child and myself but because she was a scheduled delivery. My lupus found me in the doctor’s office almost four times more than a woman with a “normal” pregnancy. Mine was high risk having not only an autoimmune disease but also a positive SSA. What this means to a pregnancy is risk to the babies heart. The percentage is low, but present enough that my doctor’s head whipped up when I told her I was fairly certain that yes, I was SSA positive. With this confirmation, I spent many sleepless nights wondering if my daughter’s heart was holding strong but also many blissful moments watching her dance across the black and white screen. They wanted her out as soon as she was considered full term. She continually measured so “huge” that the ultrasound nurses kept telling me to have my bags packed, but I knew she wasn’t coming before that scheduled day. I firmly believe they probably would have had to go in and get her eventually anyway.
I remember going to bed the night before our check in date knowing it was the last night of an old life. I thought I might find it difficult to sleep but I didn’t. My husband returned home the next day from work with red roses. He asked what I wanted to do before we went to the hospital and I told him I really wanted to go to church. We weren’t avid attendees but I’d always loved this particular pastor, so honest and real. It seemed too perfect that there was a Wednesday night service and our check in wasn’t until 8:00 pm. We exited just before the end of the service and as I waited for the hubby a gentleman standing by the door asked when I was due. “In about an hour.” He asked if we could pray together. So we sat there, a complete stranger and myself, holding hands as he prayed. Then we hugged and the hubby was waiting with the car. I still have the receipt from our next stop at Jason’s Deli… we sat there casually eating as if we weren’t about to embark on the most important moment in our lives. I didn’t get nervous until I was putting on my hospital gown. Not for the proceeding pain, but the person I was about to meet. Would she know me? Could I be everything to her I so badly wanted to be? And maybe a little for the pain.
I’m not scared of needles so most of the labor process was a breeze. With the exception of my epidural wearing off twice. Those combined ten minutes a reminder that it is possible to forget how to breathe. My family filled the waiting room while I dozed to waterfalls and images of the rainforest. I pushed for about an hour and then the doctor ordered me to “labor down.” I’m still not sure exactly what that meant to me, but I think it was code for “nurse, keep that baby in there until I arrive.” More pushing and (quote fingers) laboring down and Olivia arrived. A whopping 7 pounds 9 ounces. What a beast. Good thing I had those bags packed.
Our Olivia’s surprise arrival is such a deep blessing in so many more ways than just one. It’s quite possible I may have never had any children at all had we known what a risk my lupus was. The birth itself caught me off guard in its ease… everyone in the room so calm and encouraging. I admit I half expected a little of the chaos portrayed in Hollywood. Other than the constant swinging door of anxious family, the most distraught I felt was the inability to move my legs. When they placed her on my stomach I remember looking at her and saying “Hi, Baby!” That was it; my daughter was born and so was I.
I claim not to like surprises; but I know that, often, life’s greatest gifts are.
My first child was due May 22 and so I quit working about May 2rd in order to take a couple weeks off work to prepare. We visited the mansions of Newport, Rhode Island my first weekend off work and it was glorious. At that time we had season tickets to the Nets and the Devils and both worked two jobs and were on the go constantly. No room for a nursery in our little one bedroom apartment with one tiny closet. Our clothes were on a rack and you could literally just barely turn around in a circle in the bathroom. The little kitchen housed our washing machine that connected to the sink – no dryer and you could feel the wind through the windows. This apartment was in the top floor of a home built in 1774 and it was absolutely the favorite time of my life.
I was doing the baby laundry and started to feel cramps and then some more but they were not too bad. I asked my neighbor (an experienced mother) what she thought and I decided to ask the doctor if he thought I should attend the Nets playoff game as planned that evening. He said I probably should stick closer to home just in case it was real labor. I called my husband and told him to find a buddy to go to the game with him and continued with the laundry and enjoying all the new baby clothes. Then the cramps became a bit more often and I talked to my neighbor again and she said I should call my husband and tell him to change his plans because my face was all white. All along I am thinking this cannot be labor because it is not that bad. That changed after we arrived at the hospital. It only took about 8 hours and they had to take me out of the nice place and into the sterile room since they had to use forceps but otherwise things went well – Unfortunately the doctor on call had the biggest hands ever and it was hard to sit down for two months. I had no experience with infants, my own mother and the women in her family had all passed away and so we were on our own. Trying to get Kyle dressed to leave the hospital had my roommate laughing so hysterically that she was about to pop her stitches. Things were rolling on the floor and the two of us were all thumbs. He survived and can dress himself nicely now.
He was a gorgeous baby- people always stopped me and the nurses said the same thing – We were truly blessed and those first few months just staring at him are sacred to me.
The second child came as a surprise – We never asked the sex of either so apparently I used to like surprises! This time when I thought I was going into labor I got into the shower and braided my hair in two braids because the previous experience had left a lot of tangles. This caused the nurses to question my age (I was almost 26). When I told my husband in middle of night that we should go and he saw me he told me my stomach had dropped. We were about 25 minutes from the hospital but by running stop signs and red lights we made it there – I told the nurses that I had to use the bathroom and then when i did they told me not to push because it could be the baby. Then they made me hold off to wait for the doctor to arrive. He told me I sounded so calm that he figured he had time and went back to bed. He was glad he had a fast car when the nurses called. Jackie came out quickly and has not stopped since. The doctor felt her shoulders and said I had a linebacker on the way (since we did not know the sex yet) – Well all the visitors thought Jackie looked just like a cabbage patch doll and I thought she was not as cute as her brother as a newborn which struck me because I thought a girl should be prettier. She turned out beautiful though and we went home 2 days before Thanksgiving which I hosted at my house- went home from hospital to vacuum. This recovery was far easier although she took to nursing hard right away and it was painful. Taking care of the two babies and being a mom before they entered school was a true joy and blessing.
Dear Marie,
I related to so many parts of your story… teeny, tiny living space… working an inhuman number of hours before changing gears to parent (and THEN feeling more tired!)… the surprises… the joys. I am grateful that you shared. These stories are making me so happy!
July must be one of your favorite months. :-)
Great story, Kim.
Yes, indeed, Jane! And thank you.
Wow … what wonderful stories!
My birth experience, my entire pregnancy, was a blessing. I had a hard time conceiving, ended up taking clomiphene, so by the time I was pregnant a year had gone by and I really, really wanted it! Like my mother, whom I no longer have a relationship with, but who I ironically wanted more than anyone else at the time, I wasn’t sick a day. I felt closer to God/Goddess, more purposeful than I ever have since, and perfectly content. Leslie waited on me hand and foot, which was dreamy. My cravings, and the rhythm of my purposeful body spoke volumes to me, as well, which was fascinating. I was so connected to myself. The first time I felt Elizabeth move, I was laying in bed and it was like a tiny wave crested on the shore in my belly. There she was giving me the high five.
Fascinating.
She was two weeks late, naturally, as she seemed pretty happy, too. I had a very mild labor that lasted over 12 hours and then sort of stalled. They put me on pytocin and another assortment of pain relievers, and I blew up like a balloon. She began to descend, but it wasn’t happening. She was too big, and my contractions weren’t productive enough.
So, I was off to get a C-Section, although I hadn’t read that chapter in the book … at all.
At that point, it all got very surreal. I sort of disconnected from what was happening, almost viewing it objectively, but felt that I was in the best of hands. I don’t mean the doctors, who were very good to us, by the way. At that moment, I felt like it was up to somebody else, somebody, something big time in charge. I felt complete relaxation wash over me.
Ah, maybe it was the medicine they gave me.
Elizabeth was born at 12:55 p.m. and both of us, her mothers, were right there rooting for her. “Hurry up, Leslie” the doctor cried, “get your camera out.” And they lifted her from my open belly squalling as my Leslie cried. I was in the zone.
That afternoon, after recovery, I was in the hospital bed, still on cloud 9 courtesy of whatever pain relief they gave me, and Leslie was in the chair next to me with Elizabeth, a tiny loaf of bread, on her chest. The little girl lifted herself up on tiny elbows and stared Leslie in the face.
“Are you my mother?” she seemed to ask. “Oh, you mean I have two?”
Cool.
My moment with her came later. It was the next night, and I was up on my feet by then, as recovery seemed to go quickly. She was in the little thingie, and I was sorting photos. I picked her up, and it was just she and me for that moment.
Love,
D~
Oh,Donna!
You brought me right into the experience, into the moment. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!
I, too, experienced the surreal sensation that the process was controlled by a power much greater — and I had no drugs, so we functioned in the same sphere for a time. Wonderful, wasn’t it?
Thank you for sharing. Thank you for lifting me up.
Glorious!
~K
Birth Stories
Baby #1 was due May 21. My OB/GYN told me to expect to be late as first babies usually were. I saw him on May12 and I was not dilated, effaced and had not dropped. He told me to expect another 2 weeks. I was so disappointed. It was hot and I had terrible heartburn and was ready for my baby to be born. I was awakened by a bad dream that I was in pain at 2am on May 17th. Turns out I was in labor. We finally went to the hospital around 9am when my contractions were 5 minutes apart. I labored for the next 3 hours and was given a pain shot which basically made me so tired. All I wanted was that baby out and to sleep. My doctor, who had been out of town, came from the airport to deliver at noon. Every time I pushed the baby went back in. It was finally decided that forceps were needed. I was so freaked out because everything I had read said forceps were dangerous. I trusted my doctor and he insisted on doing an epidural before the forceps. By 3:15 my beautiful baby girl Barrie Lisa was born. Her head was not hurt in any way by the forceps and she was just perfect.
Baby #2 was due May 5th according to my sonogram, but I knew that date was wrong and expected the baby in April. Just as I was falling asleep to Jay Leno on the night of April 21st, I got my first labor pains. Again I was ready for a good night’s sleep, but that was not meant to be. I called my sitter and had her come over so she could stay with Barrie who was almost 3. I was up all night in labor. At 5:30am we went to the hospital. I was 7 cm dilated and in transition. I asked my doctor about an epidural and he suggested he break my water first. Within 5 minutes of breaking my water I was dilated to 10cm and it was too late for anything for pain. After a lot of screaming beautiful daughter Kacie Lauren was born at 6:30am.
Baby #3 we knew by sonogram and amniocentesis was a baby boy. He was due Feb 22nd. I was 40 years old on the day I had my amnio. I was a nervous wreck until the test results came back. Sunday morning Feb 16th I went to the grocery store and had to stop every few minutes and breathe. I wasn’t sure if they were the fake Braxton Hicks contractions or the real ones. I had been plagued with Braxton Hicks contractions for months before the baby was born and had to stop exercising cause it brought them on. By 3 O’clock I was sure I was in labor and was in a lot of pain. We went to the hospital after calling my mother-in-law to stay with the girls. I had decided that if it got bad enough, I was going to have an epidural before it was too late. At the hospital I was 6cm dilated and decided to have the epidural. The rule at the hospital was that you had to have a liter of fluid so you were hydrated before the epidural. After several attempts, they finally got an IV in and gave me the fluid. An anesthesiologist came and did the epidural. My whole right side was completely numb right up to my eyeballs. They tried adjusting it so the left side would numb up, but then they started to worry about numbness in my face. They said I had some kind of syndrome where you get too numb and it can be dangerous so they had to cut the medication in the epidural back. I pushed for the next hour or so with ½ of my body numb and the rest that felt it all. It was very strange. This was the first delivery I was able to watch with a mirror and I cried when his head crowned and the next push he was out and I was holding him. My adorable baby, Joel David, arrived around 7pm, perfect.
Dear R,
Three babies, three completely different experiences, same net result: Perfection!
I was taken aback by the similarities in our families. We each have two girls and a boy, and may have thought we were done after the first two. Those first were born three years apart. Your first two came at nearly the same time my last two arrived. Barrie and Kacie both share their middle names with my girls. Amazing.
Thank you so much for sharing.