was four years ago tonight. There was an ice storm that night though the day had been relatively mild for February. I missed church that morning because we (my mom & I) thought my water had broken & decided to walk to try to get the contractions started. I was supposed to have a baby shower with my sister-in-law that afternoon at church as well. She was due three weeks after I was. I, however, wasn't due until three weeks later (Feb 29). Oh, the plans we have.
We tried to eat that evening before we went to the hospital to get checked. Lol, let's just say everything I put in my mouth (plus more) came flying right out. I cried when the dr showed me his little checker paper. I wasn't ready. Maybe I'm still not......
That was also the night I gave a lot of women a reason to resent me. Like my in-laws. And my sister. You see, apparently labor isn't supposed to be a party. Or super fun. Or the best time you've ever had. My husband said it was like me laughing in Eve's face. I say it is God's way of making up for the previous 34 weeks of vomiting & all around misery. And 17 weeks of hormone suppositories. Seriously.
I hadn't really decided beforehand whether I wanted an epidural or not. I was scared of the pain & kind of the unknown aspect of giving birth. But, in real life, I was super scared of needles. Those epidural needles are HUGE. They put them in your spine. That just isn't right! In the end though, I was too shocked to learn that my water had broken & it was, in fact, time to do this mysterious thing. I didn't say a word when the dr said "Your waters are broken. We'll start your epidural as soon as we get a bag of fluids through your IV." I just blubbered.
So, I got the drugs before the contractions started. And proceeded to giggle the rest of the night. I talked on the phone. Giggled. Opened presents from the baby shower I told you about. Giggled. Chattered with my sister-in-laws, mother-in-law, & mama. Giggled. Made fun of my husband for sitting in the corner silently. Giggled. You get the picture, I'm sure. The video is painful to watch. It's just me giggling over EVERYTHING. The nurses would actually just come & stand in my room for no reason. That's how much fun we were. They totally loved me.
I was at a 4 for a while then something just felt different. One of the nurses standing around checked me. She told me I was at an 8 & that it would probably still be awhile but to tell them if anything changed again. She left with the other nurses so it's actually just us for the time being. I was thinking 'you know, maybe I should rest? Surely it's going to get to be more work soon.' The door clicked shut behind the nurse. And it changed. Now, any woman who has given birth knows what I am talking about but man there is just no mistaking that difference. And I was so drugged on the lower half I wasn't feeling a bit of those contractions but I could feel that pressure. I can almost feel it now just thinking about it.....
I hate call buttons. I feel like I'm annoying the nurses if I use it. There are 3 women in the room who have given birth before. Suddenly they are surrounding my bed, insisting I use the annoy button. No, I want the nurses to keep liking me. Besides, I was just at an 8 so I'm sure it's nothing. This back & forth goes on for a minute or two. I'm not giggling anymore. I'm scared & they are pressuring me & getting on MY annoy button. But I'm winning the stand-off so none of that really matters, lol. Then my epidural dispensing machine starts beeping. We read the screen. It says it's empty.
CALL THE NURSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Turns out I really was at a 10. Cue the waterworks again. I'm not ready. It has only been 15 minutes since I was at a 4. It's supposed to take longer. It isn't funny - stop laughing at me. They were seriously laughing at me. My loved ones & the nurses who are back & now draping things & pulling scary metal trays with scary metal instruments out of hidey closets. Mean, mean, mean. Then the nurse tells me I can start pushing. And I'm ready.
This was THE moment. The one I had been waiting my entire life for. Four babies had died inside of me in the past & I hated people saying I was having a baby. I always corrected them. "No, I'm pregnant." There is a difference. When you face the loss of your baby over & over & over & over, there is a difference. There is a difference in you. But, now, oh now, I was having a baby.
My husband (who up until then sat silently in the corner like a kid in time out) is on one side holding one leg. My mama is holding the other. There is a sister-in-law hanging out, waiting to be kicked out by one of the nurses. My mother-in-law is by my head, also hoping not to be kicked out. We ask the nurses if we can break the rules (hospital policy is that only two people were allowed in the room during pushing & birth). Everybody stays (see, I told you they liked me). My mother-in-law counts for me & feeds me ice chips with a spoon. Hubby & mama hold my legs at precisely the same angle & position (because I demand it, lol. I'm OCD like that.) SIL cheers me on, gives encouragement & watches the clock, cameras in hand. It was like heaven.
As a little back story, my sister gave birth 8 months before I did. We have been competing with each other since her birth when I was three years old. She hated me because I only gained 12 pounds. And didn't have stretch marks. She did clue me in that having my legs both up would help because one of her's was up & one was down & her pushing was much less effective. Hence the reason my husband & mama were getting so many "instructions" about how to hold my legs. Her birth experience wasn't really a good one. The lights were bright, the room was loud, her epidural ran out right before she was ready to push & they wouldn't give her more, didn't give her any shots of pain killer before stitches & she felt every. single. one. She pushed for 55 minutes. Ok, back to me!
I'm was getting tired. It was the middle of the night/morning. I hadn't slept the night before hardly at all. Baby didn't let me keep any of my food that day. SIL jokingly tells me I am getting close to my sister's pushing time. Lol, that gave me a second wind & everyone a big laugh. I pushed for 50 minutes.
At 3:52 am, on February 11, 2008, in the middle of an ice storm, with at least 6 nurses standing around, the on-call doc handed me the tiniest baby I had ever seen. Time stopped. Life changed. I didn't cry. She was the culmination of everything -- all my dreams, all my hopes, the longing & even the tears that came after the other babies & the months of puking & hormones. She became my everything in that moment. She made me a mama. A miracle nestled right there in my arms. And I saw God's face.
(If I had any idea how, I would put George Straight's song "I Saw God Today" on here because it always reminds me of that day. So, instead, you can just hum it in your head.)
Emma Joan was 19 3/4" 6 lbs. 15 oz. with big greyish blue eyes & a head FULL of reddish hair. Emma was hubby's great-grandmother's name & Joan (it's pronounced Joe-Ann, it does not rhyme with moan) was my grandma's name. I cannot describe how beautiful she was to me.
That night started the awesome ride of mommyhood that I have been on. I cannot believe how much has changed in our lives since then. How much I have changed. How much she has changed. She is beautiful & smart. She has fiery red hair & all the stereotypes that go with it. She's vivacious & alive & real. And I love her more than life itself. I think that is what mommyhood is all about -- loving your babies more than you ever thought possible with an intensity that could just rip you in two. But it doesn't because it is exactly how God designed us to love. And to think He loves us even more..... It all just boggles the mind.
My rotten little monkey!!!
