All week long I had been thinking about how nice it would be
to have this baby, even though she wasn’t due until the 21st. I was
just tired of feeling like a whale, and getting kicked from the inside, and
being uncomfortable at night. Thinking I could have the baby before the week
was out was also a great incentive at work. I told everyone their timesheets
and travel logs had to be in by Wednesday morning so I could get the invoices
out to our clients before that day was over. I’ve never had the invoices out
that early in the month…
But Friday dawned and I saw no baby in view. I was exhausted
and slept off and on all morning, perhaps because both Ed and I didn’t get much
sleep the night before with the electricity out for 15 hours and me worried
that the groceries I had just bought would spoil. But it was a normal day
otherwise. I even did my usual pilates. And we had a doctor’s appointment at
two.
At the doctor’s, there was nothing to indicate the baby
would come early. I was measuring at one centimeter, maybe two at a stretch. We
went home, I scrubbed our bathroom and then I stretched out on our bed with a
book. I thought something might be trickling, but as the doctor had just poked
that area I didn’t think much of it. Until…well, I made it to the bathroom
before my water broke.
That was about 3:45. I called the doctor who told me to go
to the hospital to see how things looked. We kind of took our time. Ed wasn’t
packed at all. I had to toss a few things in my suitcase. I wasn’t in labor, so
the only discomfort was feeling like a leaky faucet. We arrived at the hospital
a little after four and the admitting nurse took her time as well. Although,
once I was hooked up to the machine you could see I was actually having
contractions. In fact, I realized once I saw the graph and how my body felt
when the lines rose that I had likely been having contractions for well over a
week. Who knew?
And while I was now measuring at three centimeters, I still
wasn’t feeling anything and there was no indication this baby was coming early.
I got to be unhooked from everything and allowed to walk the halls with my cup
of ice for the next hour. A little after seven, they hooked me up to everything
again, Ed flipped on the Pittsburgh Penguins game and we settled in for a long
night, the doctor encouraging me to try to sleep because at two or three in the
morning, I would need the energy.
Let’s just say that didn’t happen. The doctor gave me a
little bit of something to try to encourage the contractions to a strength that
actually made me uncomfortable because the baby was still so far up she needed
some encouragement to come down. It didn’t take much. Within an hour, I was in
hurting and measuring a good seven centimeters. A half hour after that, I
looked at Ed and begged him to let me have an epidural. But it was too late. I
was at nine centimeters, quickly approaching labor and the nurse informed me
the baby had a head full of dark hair. I remember thinking, “Whose baby is
this? No one in my family was born with a head full of hair.”
Nurses gathered. They put me in position. I tried to focus
more on breathing than the awful pain. One nurse went to get the doctor,
telling him he’d better hoof it or this baby would be born without him. He came
and was prepped just in time. Because once I was told to start pushing, that
baby came within 15 minutes. It was 11:25 PM on Friday night, not even eight
hours since my water broke.
Giving birth to Emry is hard to describe. The gambit of
emotions and sensations that one runs through is beyond words. Perhaps more so
when it all happens so quickly. But even a week later, I look at her and marvel
that she’s here. That I have a daughter. That after preparing for this for
nearly nine months, she has come and I can hold her, and bathe her, and dress
her, and feed her, and read to her, and take care of her.
And even when she doesn’t sleep as many hours as I would
like at night, I feel so very, very blessed. I wouldn’t give her up for the
world.
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