The Birth of a Mama

I felt his head drop in my pelvis around three in the afternoon.

I had been visiting with a friend whose personal conviction was to wait a few more years until having a baby of her own. We spent the afternoon at my home reminiscing on the good ol’ days, how life for both of us was changing, and how she did NOT want anything to do with babies or childbirth at this time in her life.

I was 37 weeks pregnant and not at all prepared to deliver that day.

Everything I had read said first time moms typically go longer than 39 weeks. My own doctor was talking about selecting a day to induce during one of her scheduled shifts so I wouldn’t go past 40. It was important to me that she be there, plus, I had been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The risks with this diagnosis was many and the baby could have a few problems, like growing too fast. Going past 39 weeks was advised against.  The mentality I had, and of everyone else it seemed, was that I was weeks from delivering and I still had time to prepare. Everyone’s mentality that is, except my mom. When 36 weeks hit she commented that it could be ‘any day now.’ Of course, I shrugged it off. She did have four babies herself, but what did she know? In my mind, that was 30 years ago and things change. I believed I was going to go past term - most likely - and I had at least two weeks to prepare.

A quarter to nine that evening, he was out.

Labor came on strong and fast. Pushing only lasted a few minutes. While I’m thankful I had a quick delivery, it wasn’t anything I had envisioned for this sacred time. Laboring at home for a few hours with the lights dim and soft music playing, slowly breathing through each contraction while my husband timed each one and reminded me to breathe, bouncing gently on an exercise ball then switching to a warm bath to soak in, was all in my head of the perfect labor. None of which happened.

My husband was at work when the contractions came on.

A fleeting moment of thinking this was Braxton Hicks lasted only a short time as the intense waves of pain started to become closer and closer together. A phone call to my spouse, my mom, my doctor’s office, all proceeded the drive to the hospital during the start of a snowstorm; one of the worst that winter. Upon checking in, I was three centimeters dilated and contractions were less than five minutes apart. My husband was waiting at the hospital doors still in his work uniform as my friend dropped off our hospital bags after she transferred responsibility of me to my husband. My bag, as one might have guessed, was only half packed.

At 30 weeks pregnant, I finally stopped throwing up.

While it is common to have nausea and morning sickness during a pregnancy, it’s not normal. Prolonged agony past the first trimester may be due to an upset liver. It is something I have been investigating since giving birth but in the midst of gestation, I had no idea. The only option my doctor offered was medication and while I was not keen with taking it, I was desperate. The first month I felt good. But any hope I had that I was one of the lucky ones who experienced no sickness during pregnancy, was quickly shattered when week five hit and I was throwing up every morning. Even so, I felt I could tolerate it. It was one and done as soon as I woke up and I was good for the rest of the day. Then week eight - or was it nine? - and I was vomiting everything I ate or drank. Thankfully the family I was nannying for was on vacation that week. I exchanged the bed for the toilet then the toilet for the floor. It was July and the hot weather made me even more miserable. I received no relief with any home remedy I tried and my husband was at a loss of how to help. Medication became a daily necessity to simply function and I swore off having any more children.

If birth had stages, I was in denial.

Practically on my hands and knees breathing through my contractions at home, I refused to go to the hospital just yet. Story after story I was told if you go in too early, you could be told to go home. And since these contractions just started, I didn’t believe I was ready. Being in the country, our hospital is about 20 minutes away, and the last thing I wanted was to drive into town more than once. I mean, what a waste of gas. Not to mention, labor should take a day or two at worse and half a day at best, so I figured I had time. Internally panicking though, my friend was doing her best to calmly convince me it was time to go. She called my husband who encouraged her to meet him with me at the hospital.

It was a whirlwind of emotions.

After coaching me to push one more time, they carefully placed a perfect baby boy on my chest. With tears in his eyes and the room quiet by the command of the doctor, my husband said a prayer over our child; the first thing earth side our baby heard.    

There are quite a few things you can’t possibly know about birth unless you experience it for yourself. No matter how many births you attend, no matter how many children your partner may have, and no matter how many stories you may hear, nothing is a better teacher than experience itself. Personally, I watched a ton of videos, talked to a lot of friends, and asked my doctor a million questions. All of which gave me a glimpse of labor but not the entire picture. I didn’t know that after giving birth, your body would be pumping adrenaline through your veins for hours and you wouldn’t be able to sleep for a day or two. I didn’t know that when contractions came on, they came in waves of the most excruciating pain you’ve ever felt and then dropped down to feeling no pain at all. Over and over again, I went from pain to nothing giving me just enough time to tell my husband that, no I didn’t want any pain medication. And I didn’t know the level of love I would feel for my baby. I didn’t know I could love something that deeply. So much so that my own vocabulary fails me every time I try to describe it.

The birth to becoming a mama is no easy task. It looks exceptionally different for everyone, but for me it happened the day my son was born. The journey it took was difficult, tiring, and often overwhelming, but it was the absolute best destination I could have ever arrived at.

Every experience gives you the opportunity to learn something valuable. If you’re lucky enough, you may learn more than one thing. I learned that sometimes my mom is right after all and that babies really don’t change much…  even after 30 years. I learned that labor is really hard. REALLY HARD.  And even though this time I gave birth with no epidural or pain medication, I just might with the next one. And I learned that all of it was worth it. Every stretch mark. Every sick morning. Every contraction. Every sleepless night since.

It’s all worth it.

And my friend? She has since added on a few more years to her previous timeline of bearing a child.