On the eve of my daughter’s birthday…

This time three years ago, I sat in a fugly hospital gown and semi-cute gingerbread like grippy socks, struggling to stay somewhat awake until the nurse said it was finally okay to go to sleep for the night. 

The joys of having an induced delivery. No my daughter wasn’t overdue, though the way she had been acting I feel like she would have been. My blood pressure was bordering preeclampsia and since I was at 39 weeks, my midwife just said to induce me. As much as I wanted a 4th of July baby, because hello fireworks every year!, I wanted this baby out. 

We arrived that evening, and surprise I wasn’t dilated. And I hadn’t been checked at that point either, so imagine my shock when I was… 

I’m pretty sure she just shoved her whole hand up there. 

They then inserted this pill, whatever it’s called to get the process going. However they would have to keep checking on me for a few hours before they could finally let me go to sleep. As I said the struggle was real. I vaguely remember watching World War Z on netflix, but that’s about as much as I remember…

Shortly after 3am… I got up to pee. Which was a hassle, with IVs and cords and whatnot. Did my business, was walking back to the bed, and it just felt like I had to pee again. So back I went and I barely made it into the bathroom before my water broke. 

And when I say it was very theatrical, I mean, it literally felt like someone just dropped a water balloon from my lady bits. Just in the movies. But wait it gets better. My dear sweet child had pooped. Inside me. Don’t ask me for the fancy medical term because I honestly don’t remember or care enough to look it up. Yeah, believe me, I am FOREVER holding that over her head. 

I called out for R to call the nurse. Naturally he came into the bathroom to see what was wrong, but not before I could warn him to watch his step. He stepped in my pooped in, broken water… barefoot. We should have known then this child would be difficult. And I am never living that down from him either… he calls the nurse and me being me, I’m trying to clean up this mess. To which the nurse comes in and is like No its okay. So she let’s me clean myself up, and ushers me back to the bed. Explains that my child pooped inside me, because the water was a yuck color and up until that point I had had no idea. Immediately my brain goes to that he ONE thing that I remembered from the What to Expect book, that this is deadly and baby needs to be taken out now

Apparently not that the case. She said I was fine and baby seemed fine, and to try to get a little bit more rest and dilated before we got moving in the morning. 

Rest… after I’ve been told my child has pooped inside me and mentally all I can think of is that one little snippet I remembered. Obviously didn’t go very well, and I tossed and turned and dozed on and off until around 7am. 

Shower. Breakfast. Heavy dilation medicine. Oh and no more food until delivery. 

Now, you have 24 hours from the time your water breaks to deliver on your own before they give you a C-section. I had already lost 4-ish hours “resting and relaxing”. And I was not even 1cm dilated. It was going to be a great day. 

Over the course of the day, I dozed in and out, every half hour they came in and upped the medicine. I told my mom that I didn’t actually want anyone there now. She was upset but oh well. And then the contractions really started… 

I have ZERO pain tolerance. And my little happy ass was all gung-ho about going as far along as possible without an epidural. I don’t know what I was thinking. I think the idea of being confined to the bed bothered me. I would clench my teeth and say I was fine and then cry as soon as the nurses walked out. After about an hour of this, R basically told me to get the epidural. He couldn’t stand to see me like this. I negotiated a “quick fix” that felt like someone shot ice into my vein. And quick fix it was. It lasted maybe 15 minutes. At this point I couldn’t tough it out anymore. I signed the papers and waited, being checked if I was dilated in the process. 

Time came for the epidural. I saw a glimpse of the needle and freaked the fuck out. I was like no I don’t want it now. But funny thing about stuff like that, once you sign that paper, you’re getting it. The nurse and R literally had to hold me down because I was shaking so much. I don’t do well with needles. And let me tell you, the jerk doing it didn’t seem to do well with needles either. I had never felt more pain than that of the needle being stuck in me. I questioned if it was supposed to feel that way, to which he responded by jabbing it in further. If I hadn’t been held down I would have turned around and throat punched him. 

Finally it was inserted and I felt nothing. Literally. Like it kicked in quick. My legs went numb and dead weight like. I had a huge contraction moments after I didn’t even feel. Damn, I wish I had gotten this sooner, was all I kept thinking. Aside from being confined to the bed, I couldn’t feel anything waist down. It bothered me. I kept asking R to raise my legs so I could see they were still there. Medicine was some good shit obviously. 

The day progressed in a daze. I was in and out. I was hungry. Evening was approaching and my dilation was taking its sweet time. About an hour or so before Emma was born, the nurse came in with an exercise ball to put inbetween my legs to help. Oh boy did it help. 

I feel like something is about to fall out of me. Maybe I have to poop. I kept telling R. At this point the nurses were in every 15 minutes upping my medicine and checking. We knew the nurse would be in in a few minutes so we held off calling her. She returned and after being told I felt like I had to poop, she took a look and imagine our surprise when she said that Emma was crowning. 

Ah…. so what now? We’re first time parents. We don’t know what that means. 

It means you’re having the baby now. 

I kid you not, I told the nurse I wasn’t ready. She just laughed and went to gather the midwife and everyone else. And my anxiety went through the roof. 

Turn my iPad on to my delivery playlist!! I swear you would have thought I asked R to go rob and bank or something. I had read that music helps calm you and I needed all the calming I could get. It didn’t calm me. It actually just annoyed me. So I turned it off after like 3 songs. 

I pushed a few times before I was told that if I couldn’t deliver in a few minutes, the midwife would have to leave and go tend to two other emergencies. One baby had turned around and another woman was bleeding bad. Well, I don’t do well under pressure so I told her to go. Thinking it wouldn’t be that long. She was gone maybe 5 minutes before I told R that this baby was coming and that he might just have to catch it himself. 

Sadly that didn’t happen, but I did end up spending nearly an hour with this child’s head in the birth canal. Finally the midwife returned and told me all I needed was a few good pushes. 

Apparently my pushing wasn’t good enough. Because both the midwife and R asked if I was even trying. The fuck do you mean am I trying? I assume so. But I can’t feel anything so I can’t really tell. R told me my face just looked irritated, not that of a woman pushing a baby out. He’s lucky he was holding my leg otherwise I might would have made him get out. And let me tell you, coordinating pushing with contractions is no easy task. But thankfully maybe a dozen pushes total, out she came.

At 8:53pm on June 28th, 2014. 6lbs 13.2 ounces. 20 inches long.  

Everything I knew about delivery I had learned from movies. And so far only my water breaking had been as I expected. There was no curtain up to push from behind, which I was highly disappointed in. I also expected to hear wailing as soon as she was out. Nope. That didn’t happen either. And immediately I thought that something had happened. I knew they should have taken her out when my poopy water broke. The nurses rushed her over to the little cleaning area, and I just happened to glance down and see two large knitting needles between my legs. 

But I didn’t care. Where was my baby and why wasn’t she making any noise? I was momentarily distracted by being sucker punched in the stomach. To make sure no blood is in there. Or some shit. I don’t really remember. I just know the nurse literally touched my spine when she did that. 

What seemed like an eternity, and we finally heard a little cry. I sighed. She was okay. I asked R if he had gotten to cut the cord and he said no. Puzzled I asked why, as we had discussed it. Our dear sweet daughter had not only pooped inside me. She had wrapped her umbilical cord asked round her neck. Multiple times. Wearing it like a fucking scarf. Apparently this too was normal. And the reason why R didn’t get to cut the cord. 

Oh I forgot to mention that the entire time I was pushing my father was obnoxiously calling to see if the baby had arrived. Ah it’s like 9pm ain’t nobody coming here tonight. I’m going to get my food and go to sleep. 

But first, we had an hour of skin-to-skin time. And it was the greatest hour of my life. Watching this tiny being, know exactly how to latch on and feed. Yes thankfully, I was one of the few who had no problems with latching on or breastfeeding. 

I was in love. As I said before, I never knew this type of love existed until I held her. 

After our hour was up and my new room was ready with food, I was so looking forward to being able to move. The nurse asked if I wanted a wheelchair. I’m sure I looked at her like she was stupid. I have been laying in bed all day. I am walking. She asked if I was sure. I said yes, but to take my daughter just in case. I barely made it off the bed before wobbly knees kicked in and I sat back down. Apparently my medicine hadn’t quite worn off yet. I reluctantly asked for the wheelchair… 

Off we went. Me being pushed holding my baby, eagerly waiting to scarf down the food waiting for me. The remainder of the night was a blur of exhaustion and sweet baby cuddles and check ups. 

Another factor that should have made us realize our daughter would be spoiled and difficult… the entire 2 days we were at the hospital, she refused to sleep in the he hospital crib. Cried everytime we put her in  there or awoke when we tried to. She slept spread eagle on a pillow, in our arms. NO OTHER WAY… 

And now here we are. Three years later, and boy if those first few days weren’t a glimpse into our future. Our sweet little munchkin has turned into a sassy pants threenager. I love her more and more everyday, even on the days I wish boarding school was an option for preschool. I enjoy watching in amazement how she’s growing and becoming an actual person, whom I can converse with. Two brought us talking and learning (and writing) the alphabet & numbers, colors, animals and their sounds, shapes, and dancing and singing to Disney movies. I can not wait to see what three holds in store for us as she continues to become her own self. 

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