I’m a Mom

26 Feb

It has been two months since my baby boy came into this world and I haven’t had time to write his birth story until now.

December was a busy month for me. Between moving into our new home and wrapping things up at work I was crazy busy. The weight of my son transformed me into a waddling orca, and I moved at a glacial pace. Despite my own early prediction I would have a December baby, I was hopeful I wouldn’t birth my son until after the holidays.  I was due the second week of January and would tell my son daily that he wasn’t allowed to come early. I wasn’t ready for him. I didn’t even have my hospital bag packed.

As Christmas Eve approached I was woefully behind on my Christmas shopping. I decided I would map out the sales and buy all of my gifts on Christmas Eve. Hey, it isn’t Christmas until I am elbowing my way past fellow shoppers right? Well my son had other plans.

Around 3am I made my usual bathroom run bleary eyed and tired. I don’t know why I inspected the toilet paper, but I did. There it was; a pink tinge and lots of fluid.  At first I thought I just had a full bladder. It took me a couple of minutes to realize my water broke. Ready or not, I was going to have my baby.  With no bag packed my husband and I had our mini-freakout. I tested positive for Group B Strep weeks earlier and had to go into the hospital right away to get antibiotics. We tossed things haphazardly into a bag and off we went.

Once at the hospital we roamed the halls in vain to ward off getting pitocin. It didn’t work and I was hooked up after a few painful IV attempts. Eventually things got underway and I began to experience the curse of Eve. Damn her for eating that apple. Labor pains were hell and despite spending good money on a doula and intending to go unmedicated I quickly decided to get the epidural once I was in active labor. It was heaven.

Although fully dilated, the baby was sunny side up and having problems coming down. After three hours of pushing he hadn’t budged at all and I started to get a fever. Also, the baby’s heart rate was dangerously high during the last hour of pushing. Despite my best efforts it was time to throw in the towel and do what was safest for the baby. I had to have a cesarean. They doped me up quickly and wheeled me into the OR.

I remember barely being able to keep my eyes open. My eyelids were so heavy. I desperately wanted to have that surge of happy emotions when he was born. If I get choked up about births on shows like A Baby Story, surely I should feel more at the birth of my own child. Unfortunately, I didn’t. The nurse pressed my son’s face into mine so I could give him a kiss, but I could barely respond. I was bombed and overmedicated.  I watched my husband hold our son and felt almost nothing.

I never thought I would be one of those people to dwell on the birth of my son or mourn a “natural” childbirth, but I am. Although I am grateful to have my son safe and healthy, I am still bummed about the birth itself. I wish I would have been more present in those few magic first minutes. I wanted to feel that surge of happy emotions I thought I would have had. I still to this day feel cheated.

Luckily two months later I have been able to bond with my son and move on from that negative experience. Although I was very depressed about the birth the first few weeks I have been able to come to terms with the experience. Although my doula didn’t help me give birth naturally, she did take pictures of the entire birth which allowed me to feel like I could see everything I missed and feel at peace. Talk about an expensive way to get pictures of my son’s birth. Still, those pictures are priceless.

Now today, I am just grateful that I am simply a Mom to a beautiful little boy. I am so very blessed.


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Bad Mamma Jamma ... With a PhD!

Eclectic Thoughts on Life and Living

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