My Birth Story

I am honored to share my birth story, because even though to me it may seem very “plain” or “normal”, I know every birth experience is very different and special to each mother.

I had my son in the hospital. I didn’t have a plan, or any expectations. This worked for me, because I am very “go with the flow”, and if I have a particular plan in mind and it goes awry, I get upset. I just wanted my son born healthy, and especially: painlessly. Ha. I am such a wimp for pain.

I was so blessed with an awesome pregnancy. I loved being pregnant. It was bliss. I was never sick, I loved being able to “eat for two”, and just the whole growing a human thing is absolutely surreal. With pregnancy being a breeze, I was for sure counting on a hard labor and delivery. The looming labor that hangs in your last trimester is so scary. No clue what to expect or when.

That is why, on one Wednesday evening (two weeks from my due date), when my water broke and started leaking I had no clue what was going on. I seriously thought I had lost bladder control. I kept having a trickle that night. I had no pain, just the leak. I thought for sure if it was my water it would be more fluid or I would also be having contractions. Not the case. I went to bed figuring if it was my water, my bed (or the towel I slept on) would be soaked. It wasn’t. I went to work that morning (wearing WHITE JEANS!) and it kept happening. So the hospital I went. Well, I actually went home, showered, did my hair and make-up, ate McDonalds, waited for my husband to get home and then we went to the hospital.

They admitted me and started pictocin right away. It was around noon, and after much tv watching, laboring on the ball, visitors, an epidural, and ice chips, my son was born at 11:58pm on May 11, 2011 (fun fact: our wedding anniversary is the 12!).

It was indeed as painless as could be. I don’t think I can even call it that, because of course it was painful. But it was managed and I was at ease. The one thing I was unprepared for was how tiring pushing is. I pushed for two hours. I got nervous when the doctor came in because “it was time” (they told me not to push yet, not yet! the dr needs to change!). So nervous, in fact, that I vomited and it forced my son out. And I kept vomiting. And I was so exhausted.

The one thing I did think anticipate was a flood of emotions when he was born. Instead, he came out early, my doctor catching him because he wasnt ready. They put him on my vomit cover gown and he wasn’t really crying. I was more scared, tired and exhausted than overwhelmed with love. I knew I loved this boy I had grown for 9 months, but I didn’t “feel” it. Thinking back to that blip of a few minutes makes me so sad. Sad that I didn’t have that Hollywood moment of tears and joy, I was just overwhelmed in a different way. No one told me this was normal (later I learned that yes, it is!) that labor is exhausting and its a relief when its over.

Another thing was he didn’t have a name. He was born, and of course everyone (the nurses and doctors) asks “whats his name??”. Well, gosh, we should’ve done this earlier. My husband and I hadn’t agreed on any names for so long that we stopped discussing it. Somewhere between the baby being bathed and cleaned, me delivering the ‘afterbirth’ and getting stitches, we named him Everett Dean.

Then we ate cheeseburgers and slept until morning, with me waking up panicking several times because ‘oh my gosh I HAVE A BABY!’. It was a miraculous whirlwind. Some things I would like to forget, but I would love to hold onto the memories of him being so small, so new, both of us clueless. He is my little boy, and I am so privileged to be his mama. I love him more than I can write into words.