My Atty Turning Eight and His Arrival Story: Part Three

There are so many expectations that we are saddled with (and we saddle ourselves with) in becoming parents.  It seems like every step of the way has monumental rights and wrongs but it’s never clear what is the actual truth in that regard.  (Of course, what is truly wrong is totally obvious, I’m not saying that.)  What I have learned from that is, finding your own path is crucial.  And then letting that path twist and turn with the environment.  I made a lot of decisions before I became a parent about how I was to be a parent.  The rug flew out from under me when I realized that almost none of those decisions weren’t going to work.  And one of the greatest one was my plan for my birth.  Because it took a turn that I wasn’t prepared for, I carried the trauma and sadness over it for a very long time.  I have since learned that there is no right way to give birth.  I was healthy and my baby was healthy and that was wonderful.  But what felt like my failure haunted me for many years. 

Somehow, in my semi functioning brain, I still knew that I wanted to do this in the fewest medical intervention possible. Instead of going straight to an epidural, I was offered fentanyl. Now, I think that it has other uses these days but then, it was being used as a pain medication for labor. I was given one dose and it was like heaven opened upon me. I finally, for a short time felt like I could breathe and think and even interact with those around me. I had gone from a feral state to a functional state. It was the best lack of pain I had ever experienced.

But unfortunately, it didn’t last for long.  All too soon I started to feel the familiar twinges of my overwhelming labor and the fear rose in me.  Trav quickly recognized the threads of panic permeating my person and connected with nurse.  She brought me a second dose but while she administered the, what felt like, lifesaving medicine but as the relief flooded me again, we warned that this dose would likely last less time and possibly be less effective.  I was again in my right mind and had a hard decision to make.  The decision that I had dreaded making.  With tears in my eyes, I turned to my sweet, exceptional husband and shaking told him that I needed an epidural.

After the decision was made, things moved quickly.  The anesthesiologist was summoned and before I knew it the drape was being taped to my back and the instructions were being rattled off.  I had to bend over my giant belly in a way that was terribly uncomfortable and nearly impossible and then not make a move as the very long and very big needle (or what seemed to be) right into my spine.  After my baby was born and we were recounting the story of our experience he told me that as the needle broke my skin, the monitors showed my contractions skyrocketing.  Like off the screen of the monitor.  I was certainly grateful that I couldn’t feel any of it as I’m sure that I would not have remained stone still.  I can only imagine how bad that could have been.

 For all the pushing away of the option I did, once the epidural started doing its work, the indefinite lack of pain was a wonder.  Our families had been patiently waiting for most of the day and once the drugs began to calm and wash over me, I welcomed them all into the room.  I actually have no memory of them coming in, but I know that I finally felt wonderful.  That I felt like I could do this birth thing.  I even took some time to rest.  I slid into a delicious and relieving nap.  On top of the lack of sleep from the night before, my body being in a constant state of stress and contraction, exhausted me to a level that had been untouched.  Looking back, the gratitude I felt to have respite was invaluable. For all my protestations, it was the right choice to make to get me through.

 Apparently, the world was still turning around our little room.  The night of March 11th, 2014, was quite a a busy one in the Labor and Delivery department of Kaiser.  Because of this, after my magical epidural was given to me the nurses pretty much left us alone.  There were no check ins or updates for hours.  I napped off and on and finally I started to feel an immense pressure.  This was it.  This was going to be the time to push.  I was going to meet my boy so soon. I needed the team that was going to deliver him.  Trav was sent out to investigate.  To find the team.  He searched the halls before he found help but once they were located, the rushed in in a flood.  I was checked and it was, indeed, time to push.

Atty was born at 8:59 pm the night.  After all the difficultly and fear of the previous 23 and a half hours, I was triumphant in only having to push three times before he slithered out.  The moment the cold air hit his little body he uttered a screech that told us that his lungs were perfectly operational.  I reached down and pulled him onto my chest, and he promptly pooped his very first, sticky poop all over me.  The chaos that ensued regarding the clean up only just barely registered.  I was holding him. I had labored for 24 hours, and he was finally in my arms.  He was slick and slippery and latched on to my breast instantly.  I held him and marveled over him.  The wonder of him was too great for me to comprehend.  I had done it.  I had created this perfect creature and brought him into the world.  I adored him instantly.

I have spent so much time over the course of his life staring at him. When he was a tiny thing, just getting to know my arms.  When he slept through the night for the first time.  When he was a toddler and cuddled up to the glow worm he adored.  When he was five and sick and all his growing limbs were crushed into my embrace. And even now, while he sleeps, his impossibly big self sprawled across his bed.  He has grown so much and so quickly.  Before having children, I never could have known how fast and how slowly eight years could go.  My life as his mother has not always been successful.  I have bumbled and stumble through the role and made as many mistakes as successes.  But despite all of that he is the most wonderful of kiddos.  He is kind, and loving, and sweet.  He is beautiful, and funny. He loves me despite all my flaw as a mother and I am so grateful for him. I am so grateful to know that he picked me.  My first born.  My boy.  My Atty.