Holding My Heart in My arms
The pain was excruciating, sweat dripped from my face and I tried to control my breathing knowing that panic would take me over and only make the pain worse. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore it lessened and disappeared. I sat on my bed wide awake, I had been sleeping only minutes ago and my husband was still snoring quietly. What was that? I thought to myself before lying back down on the bed quickly slipping back into sleep.
Just as I was about to surrender to sleep the pain started again and worsened. My eyes opened wide, suddenly awake again and I realized what was happening. It was time. My baby was coming. Today. I looked at the clock, 4 am and looked nervously at my husband snoring peacefully. I sat up and paced the room, unsure of what I should do. My mind raced a million thoughts per second. I couldn’t think straight and I mindlessly grasped for several things at once.
Get dressed.
Grab your bag.
Calm down.
Wake up husband.
Let him sleep.
Better eat now, they won’t let you at the hospital.
Is the car seat in the car?
Is the crib ready?
My baby is coming today.
My baby is coming! Today!
Another contraction ripped through my abdomen and I paused, remembering to breathe. As it quickly disappeared I grabbed my phone. My mom. I needed to call my mom. I dialed her number and counted the rings. She was an early riser, she should be up. One. Two. Three.
“Hello?” my mom said it with a question and I knew what that question implied.
“Mom? I think it’s time, what do I do?” my voice shook with nervousness.
“Ok, are you having contractions?” her voice calmed me.
“Uh, yeah, about seven minutes apart.” I said glancing at the clock.
“Ok, well they say if you can talk through the contractions you can wait. Can you talk through them?”
“Umm…I am not sure. I don’t know. I …” I grimaced in pain, and forced myself to breathe deeply.
“Okay, I can tell you’re ready. Call the hospital. Wake up Tyler. Stay calm, you’ll be okay.”
“Okay, mom thanks. I love you.”
“I love you, too sweetie. Let me know if they keep you there or not.”
The thought hadn’t crossed my mind that they might send me back home. I started to panic. I couldn’t be sent home. I need to be there. I can’t sit around here all day in pain and waiting. I called the hospital and they told me to go ahead and come in. I ran around gathering my pre-packed bags and purse. I double checked the baby’s room. I started to change, but then decided not to, what’s the point? At last I went to wake up Tyler. He would appreciate that I gave him a few extra minutes of sleep while I got ready. I paused as another contraction coursed through my body before waking him up.
“Hey, I think it’s time.” He grumbled and rolled over. “Hey, wake up. It’s time!” I yelled and shook him.
“Are you sure this time?” he slurred and I rolled my eyes. We had a false alarm only two days before.
“Yes, get up. Let’s go.”I snapped angrily.
“Okay, Let me just jump in the shower.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
The shower? I am in pain and he wants to take a shower? I opened my mouth to object and then stopped. I decided staying calm was the best thing at the moment and I was pretty sure I had time to kill. He stumbled to the shower and I calmly walked to the living room, double checking everything. I sat on the exercise ball and bounced lightly. Someone had once told me this helped with the pain. A contraction ripped through me and I caught my breath. They were wrong.
A few minutes later we piled into the car and we were on our way. In the car a million anxieties seized me. In a few hours I would officially be a mother. I had felt like a mother since the moment I found out I was pregnant. I had spent the last nine months getting to know m daughter. Communicating with her through her movements, I would gently tap my belly back. She was my little butterfly. I called her this because she was always so gentle. Her kicks never hurt, but they were soft as if she were just reminding me she was there. She was safe in my belly, but now she would be entering the world and I didn’t know if I was ready.
Would I be a good mom? Will I stick to the parenting plan I had in mind or would I give up, settle for the easy route? Would I be able to handle the lack of sleep, the unexplainable crying spells? I had no more time to prepare for this enormous life change. It was time to face it and I was secretly terrified. But a bigger part of me was overjoyed.
The tiny baby I had gotten to know and love over the last nine months was finally arriving. I would be able to see her for the first time. I would be able to look into her eyes, to touch her skin, to hold her tiny hand in mine. I would finally be able to kiss her and hold her in my arms. I would get to finally introduce her to her father, who has missed out on all of her movements. We pulled up to the hospital entrance and breathed in the early morning summer air. I was ready, and I was hoping it would be a quick delivery.
Thirteen hours later I lay limply on the hospital bed, exhausted. My sister gently brushed my hair and pulled it into braids. I had insisted on doing this natural and I went thirteen hours without so much as an aspirin, but it was getting harder to focus through the contractions. They were getting stronger, and I was getting more tired. When I felt a contraction start I tried to escape to my happy place. Having a contraction, to me, was like climbing a mountain. So this is what I imagined as the contraction peaked.
I saw beautiful mountain on a warm summer’s day, a gentle breeze blowing my hair, cooling me. I climbed and climbed hearing birds singing and friendly forest folk dancing around me, like a Disney movie and then when I reached the peak the sun would shine brightly and the whole world would sing as I climbed back down. Then I would open my eyes and be happy I made it through another climb.
It got harder to do this though. I couldn’t focus enough to summon my happy place. The happy mountain became perilous death trap and the animals ran in fear or snarled in anger, so I simply laid there and tried to breathe. My body felt drained and I just wanted to rest. It was time for some relief so reluctantly I asked for some pain medication.
The drugs brought me some much needed relief but did not take all of the pain away. The nurse told me it would last two hours and I dozed off between contractions. I counted down the minutes, dreading the moment when the medication wore off and I would feel the full force of the contractions once again.
I felt more tired than I had ever felt in my life, and after two hours of pain medication I still did not feel like I could go on.
“I want an epidural.” I stated minutes before the pain medication would have worn off completely. The nurse smiled politely and nodded.
“Good, sometimes it helps things move a lot quicker.” I looked at the clock, fifteen hours in and I was ready for things to move a lot quicker. The nurse left and a few minutes later a doctor came in to give me my epidural and to break my water to speed the labor up.
The doctor frowned at me, “Hmmm, have you felt like you have been leaking a lot lately?”
“Well, yeah,” I said with growing concern, “I was in here two days ago because I thought my water broke then.”
She rifled through some papers and then looked up at me “Yeah, it looks like maybe you were right and you were leaking because there wasn’t a lot of fluid when I broke your water. But don’t worry; it looks like everything is fine.”
She walked out of the room and my heart raced. What if something is wrong? How long had she been in there without enough amniotic fluid, I rubbed my belly as it tightened and was relieved that I didn’t feel any pain.
The nurse walked over and checked my IV, “Wow, you feel warm. Are you feeling okay?” I shrugged. How should I know what it’s supposed to feel like being in labor?
“Yep, you have a fever,” she said sticking a thermometer in my mouth. A few seconds later it beeped and she frowned, “103.5, that’s not good. We have to get some antibiotics in you before that baby comes.”
She started another IV of antibiotics and I slumped on the bed just wanting this whole thing to be over. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I thought of my baby and how very soon I will be able to hold her and see her. Will she have her daddy’s eyes? My mouth? Will she have lots of hair or hardly any? I was dying to know but at the same time, I only cared that she was healthy.
After another two hours I suddenly felt the need to push. My eyes sprang open and I help my breath. Once again the feeling returned. I was relieved and excited, but mostly terrified. I turned my head and whispered with what I felt was all my strength.
“I think it’s time.”
My husband had been dozing on the couch and my sister lounging in a chair watching the Olympics on television. They turned towards me suddenly.
“What did you say?” my sister asked “We couldn’t hear you.”
“I need to push!” I said louder as an intense pressure wrapped around my midsection. Just then my nurse walked in.
“I need to push, “I said quietly.
“Are you sure, because we really need to get all these antibiotics in you?”
“Yes, I am pretty sure I need to push, now.” I was getting annoyed
“Okay…” she said, I could tell she didn’t believe me, but she prepped to check me. “Oh, yes. You’re definitely ready! Just breathe slowly and don’t push until I get back, okay?”
She left the room and a few minutes later she returned. She set up several supplies I hadn’t a clue what they were for and my sister and husband took their spots near my head.
“Okay,” the nurse said, “When you feel the need to push I want you to take a deep breath like you going swimming and push as hard as you can” I nodded and focused on the television I took a deep breath just as the whistle blew for the Olympic swimmers to jump into the water.
After three pushes the nurse looked at me, “Umm, okay, you are moving along a lot faster than I expected so you are going to have to breathe through the next couple without pushing until the doctor comes in.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I just sat there defeated breathing as I felt the need to push once again. I breathed through three of these when the nurse walked back into the room.
“Can I push now? “ I whimpered.
“Not yet, I’m sorry.” I wanted to cry.
“What? Where’s the doctor? Hasn’t been forever?”
My sister smiled at me, “I think it’s only been about 45 seconds or so. You’ll be okay, just breathe.”
Suddenly the room came to life as the doctor and several other nurses’ entered the room. When you are in labor, all modesty goes out the window. I felt like I was in a zoo but I didn’t care where I was, I just wanted this baby to be in my arms.
“Okay, you can push now!” the doctor said. I took a deep breath and relaxed and before I could even push I felt the pressure ease and the doctor help up my daughter for me to see.
All time stopped as she looked right at me with those big, blue eyes and I broke down and started crying. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The umbilical cord was cut and as the doctor laid her on my chest and wrapped her in a blanket the rest of the world dissolved into a nothing an for a few breathe moments there existed nothing but us. I help her and smiled so wide my face hurt and tears fell down my face to land on her little head. She felt so warm and marveled at her beauty and perfection. She looked up at me, confused and bewildered, but somehow I knew that she knew I was her mother. I felt a familiar tug at my heart. This was the same feeling I felt every time I felt her move when I was pregnant and I knew that it was our bond pulling even tighter. I held her close for a few more minutes and took in everything.
“She’s perfect.” I whispered.
I ran my fingers all over her, counting her fingers and toes, touching her sweet little bow of a mouth and tiny nose, gently pinching her chipmunk cheeks. I noticed that she had two little cowlicks on the crown of her head and the swirled together to make the shape of a heart. I smiled at this and thought of a poem I heard months ago when I was only a few months pregnant.
“Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body.” Elizabeth Stone
Just as I was about to surrender to sleep the pain started again and worsened. My eyes opened wide, suddenly awake again and I realized what was happening. It was time. My baby was coming. Today. I looked at the clock, 4 am and looked nervously at my husband snoring peacefully. I sat up and paced the room, unsure of what I should do. My mind raced a million thoughts per second. I couldn’t think straight and I mindlessly grasped for several things at once.
Get dressed.
Grab your bag.
Calm down.
Wake up husband.
Let him sleep.
Better eat now, they won’t let you at the hospital.
Is the car seat in the car?
Is the crib ready?
My baby is coming today.
My baby is coming! Today!
Another contraction ripped through my abdomen and I paused, remembering to breathe. As it quickly disappeared I grabbed my phone. My mom. I needed to call my mom. I dialed her number and counted the rings. She was an early riser, she should be up. One. Two. Three.
“Hello?” my mom said it with a question and I knew what that question implied.
“Mom? I think it’s time, what do I do?” my voice shook with nervousness.
“Ok, are you having contractions?” her voice calmed me.
“Uh, yeah, about seven minutes apart.” I said glancing at the clock.
“Ok, well they say if you can talk through the contractions you can wait. Can you talk through them?”
“Umm…I am not sure. I don’t know. I …” I grimaced in pain, and forced myself to breathe deeply.
“Okay, I can tell you’re ready. Call the hospital. Wake up Tyler. Stay calm, you’ll be okay.”
“Okay, mom thanks. I love you.”
“I love you, too sweetie. Let me know if they keep you there or not.”
The thought hadn’t crossed my mind that they might send me back home. I started to panic. I couldn’t be sent home. I need to be there. I can’t sit around here all day in pain and waiting. I called the hospital and they told me to go ahead and come in. I ran around gathering my pre-packed bags and purse. I double checked the baby’s room. I started to change, but then decided not to, what’s the point? At last I went to wake up Tyler. He would appreciate that I gave him a few extra minutes of sleep while I got ready. I paused as another contraction coursed through my body before waking him up.
“Hey, I think it’s time.” He grumbled and rolled over. “Hey, wake up. It’s time!” I yelled and shook him.
“Are you sure this time?” he slurred and I rolled my eyes. We had a false alarm only two days before.
“Yes, get up. Let’s go.”I snapped angrily.
“Okay, Let me just jump in the shower.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
The shower? I am in pain and he wants to take a shower? I opened my mouth to object and then stopped. I decided staying calm was the best thing at the moment and I was pretty sure I had time to kill. He stumbled to the shower and I calmly walked to the living room, double checking everything. I sat on the exercise ball and bounced lightly. Someone had once told me this helped with the pain. A contraction ripped through me and I caught my breath. They were wrong.
A few minutes later we piled into the car and we were on our way. In the car a million anxieties seized me. In a few hours I would officially be a mother. I had felt like a mother since the moment I found out I was pregnant. I had spent the last nine months getting to know m daughter. Communicating with her through her movements, I would gently tap my belly back. She was my little butterfly. I called her this because she was always so gentle. Her kicks never hurt, but they were soft as if she were just reminding me she was there. She was safe in my belly, but now she would be entering the world and I didn’t know if I was ready.
Would I be a good mom? Will I stick to the parenting plan I had in mind or would I give up, settle for the easy route? Would I be able to handle the lack of sleep, the unexplainable crying spells? I had no more time to prepare for this enormous life change. It was time to face it and I was secretly terrified. But a bigger part of me was overjoyed.
The tiny baby I had gotten to know and love over the last nine months was finally arriving. I would be able to see her for the first time. I would be able to look into her eyes, to touch her skin, to hold her tiny hand in mine. I would finally be able to kiss her and hold her in my arms. I would get to finally introduce her to her father, who has missed out on all of her movements. We pulled up to the hospital entrance and breathed in the early morning summer air. I was ready, and I was hoping it would be a quick delivery.
Thirteen hours later I lay limply on the hospital bed, exhausted. My sister gently brushed my hair and pulled it into braids. I had insisted on doing this natural and I went thirteen hours without so much as an aspirin, but it was getting harder to focus through the contractions. They were getting stronger, and I was getting more tired. When I felt a contraction start I tried to escape to my happy place. Having a contraction, to me, was like climbing a mountain. So this is what I imagined as the contraction peaked.
I saw beautiful mountain on a warm summer’s day, a gentle breeze blowing my hair, cooling me. I climbed and climbed hearing birds singing and friendly forest folk dancing around me, like a Disney movie and then when I reached the peak the sun would shine brightly and the whole world would sing as I climbed back down. Then I would open my eyes and be happy I made it through another climb.
It got harder to do this though. I couldn’t focus enough to summon my happy place. The happy mountain became perilous death trap and the animals ran in fear or snarled in anger, so I simply laid there and tried to breathe. My body felt drained and I just wanted to rest. It was time for some relief so reluctantly I asked for some pain medication.
The drugs brought me some much needed relief but did not take all of the pain away. The nurse told me it would last two hours and I dozed off between contractions. I counted down the minutes, dreading the moment when the medication wore off and I would feel the full force of the contractions once again.
I felt more tired than I had ever felt in my life, and after two hours of pain medication I still did not feel like I could go on.
“I want an epidural.” I stated minutes before the pain medication would have worn off completely. The nurse smiled politely and nodded.
“Good, sometimes it helps things move a lot quicker.” I looked at the clock, fifteen hours in and I was ready for things to move a lot quicker. The nurse left and a few minutes later a doctor came in to give me my epidural and to break my water to speed the labor up.
The doctor frowned at me, “Hmmm, have you felt like you have been leaking a lot lately?”
“Well, yeah,” I said with growing concern, “I was in here two days ago because I thought my water broke then.”
She rifled through some papers and then looked up at me “Yeah, it looks like maybe you were right and you were leaking because there wasn’t a lot of fluid when I broke your water. But don’t worry; it looks like everything is fine.”
She walked out of the room and my heart raced. What if something is wrong? How long had she been in there without enough amniotic fluid, I rubbed my belly as it tightened and was relieved that I didn’t feel any pain.
The nurse walked over and checked my IV, “Wow, you feel warm. Are you feeling okay?” I shrugged. How should I know what it’s supposed to feel like being in labor?
“Yep, you have a fever,” she said sticking a thermometer in my mouth. A few seconds later it beeped and she frowned, “103.5, that’s not good. We have to get some antibiotics in you before that baby comes.”
She started another IV of antibiotics and I slumped on the bed just wanting this whole thing to be over. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I thought of my baby and how very soon I will be able to hold her and see her. Will she have her daddy’s eyes? My mouth? Will she have lots of hair or hardly any? I was dying to know but at the same time, I only cared that she was healthy.
After another two hours I suddenly felt the need to push. My eyes sprang open and I help my breath. Once again the feeling returned. I was relieved and excited, but mostly terrified. I turned my head and whispered with what I felt was all my strength.
“I think it’s time.”
My husband had been dozing on the couch and my sister lounging in a chair watching the Olympics on television. They turned towards me suddenly.
“What did you say?” my sister asked “We couldn’t hear you.”
“I need to push!” I said louder as an intense pressure wrapped around my midsection. Just then my nurse walked in.
“I need to push, “I said quietly.
“Are you sure, because we really need to get all these antibiotics in you?”
“Yes, I am pretty sure I need to push, now.” I was getting annoyed
“Okay…” she said, I could tell she didn’t believe me, but she prepped to check me. “Oh, yes. You’re definitely ready! Just breathe slowly and don’t push until I get back, okay?”
She left the room and a few minutes later she returned. She set up several supplies I hadn’t a clue what they were for and my sister and husband took their spots near my head.
“Okay,” the nurse said, “When you feel the need to push I want you to take a deep breath like you going swimming and push as hard as you can” I nodded and focused on the television I took a deep breath just as the whistle blew for the Olympic swimmers to jump into the water.
After three pushes the nurse looked at me, “Umm, okay, you are moving along a lot faster than I expected so you are going to have to breathe through the next couple without pushing until the doctor comes in.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I just sat there defeated breathing as I felt the need to push once again. I breathed through three of these when the nurse walked back into the room.
“Can I push now? “ I whimpered.
“Not yet, I’m sorry.” I wanted to cry.
“What? Where’s the doctor? Hasn’t been forever?”
My sister smiled at me, “I think it’s only been about 45 seconds or so. You’ll be okay, just breathe.”
Suddenly the room came to life as the doctor and several other nurses’ entered the room. When you are in labor, all modesty goes out the window. I felt like I was in a zoo but I didn’t care where I was, I just wanted this baby to be in my arms.
“Okay, you can push now!” the doctor said. I took a deep breath and relaxed and before I could even push I felt the pressure ease and the doctor help up my daughter for me to see.
All time stopped as she looked right at me with those big, blue eyes and I broke down and started crying. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The umbilical cord was cut and as the doctor laid her on my chest and wrapped her in a blanket the rest of the world dissolved into a nothing an for a few breathe moments there existed nothing but us. I help her and smiled so wide my face hurt and tears fell down my face to land on her little head. She felt so warm and marveled at her beauty and perfection. She looked up at me, confused and bewildered, but somehow I knew that she knew I was her mother. I felt a familiar tug at my heart. This was the same feeling I felt every time I felt her move when I was pregnant and I knew that it was our bond pulling even tighter. I held her close for a few more minutes and took in everything.
“She’s perfect.” I whispered.
I ran my fingers all over her, counting her fingers and toes, touching her sweet little bow of a mouth and tiny nose, gently pinching her chipmunk cheeks. I noticed that she had two little cowlicks on the crown of her head and the swirled together to make the shape of a heart. I smiled at this and thought of a poem I heard months ago when I was only a few months pregnant.
“Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body.” Elizabeth Stone
I really liked this, it made me think about when I had Isabel. :0)
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