Tuesday, May 17
Elena's long awaited arrival really began Tuesday, May 17.
Jonathan was at work, and I was home feeling very, very pregnant and very, very tired. It was mid-morning, and I was barely up and running. There was no pep left in my step. Suddenly, in the midst of sorting laundry, something happened. I wasn't sure what, but something occurred. You know, down below.
I spent a few minutes looking at my puffy-faced reflection in the mirror wondering if this was "it." Was I experiencing the "honey, it's time" moment? I was cautiously optimistic.
I decided to call Jonathan.
"Hey, what's up?"
He answered after half a ring.
"I think something is happening," I said, not entirely confident I knew what I was talking about. "Either my water broke or I peed in my pants. I'm not really sure which."
Cool, calm and collected, Jonathan insisted I call the doctor to get an appointment. I told him I would call immediately and hung up the phone.
Instead of calling the doctor, I took a shower.
About an hour later, I was still "leaking," so I decided to follow through on my promise to Jonathan and actually call the doctor. I wasn't feeling contractions, so there was no clear sign that labor and delivery was near.
And, honestly, I felt kind of silly. Was I in labor? I had no clue.
"What time can you come in? We need to check you," said the voice on the other end of the phone. "Go ahead and bring everything you've packed for the hospital, just in case you're admitted."
"Is this really it?" I thought to myself, feeling hopeful that it was.
Jonathan picked me up and loaded our car. He was grinning ear to ear, and I was too. We both felt so excited. We were ready to meet our daughter.
A few hours later, we discovered that I was not in labor. And I wasn't urinating on myself either (thank goodness!). I was diagnosed with an infection and sent home with antibiotics instead of a baby.
Wednesday, May 18
After the false alarm the day before, I was feeling pretty down. I slept late then spent most of my day in bed watching episodes of Glee on Hulu. My phone rang every hour or so, but I didn't take any calls. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I just wanted to be by myself.
The evening was uneventful too. Jonathan came home from work, we ate dinner, watched TV and went to bed.
By 11:0o or so, Jonathan was sound asleep. I was wide awake.
I wasn't feeling well. My back was aching all over and I was running back and forth to the potty every few minutes to monitor the continuous "leaking" situation.
It was the 11:54 p.m. potty break that set Elena's arrival into motion.
Thursday, May 19
I was no longer leaking. I was bleeding.
And my back was no longer aching. It was pulsing.
The bleeding was persistent, and the pulsing came and went every few minutes.
"Did my water break? Am I having contractions? Should I wake Jonathan? I don't want another false alarm!"
The thoughts raced through my head a mile a minute. I didn't know what to do. I pulled out one of my many pregnancy books and skimmed the pages.
Contractions, labor, water breaking; the key terms I was looking for in the glossary. For some reason I thought a book could tell me whether I needed to go to the hospital, because I sure as heck didn't know what to do!
In the meantime the pulsing kept coming. Kept going. Radiating through my back. I didn't feel it in my belly; just my back.
I had had enough.
I slammed the book closed, and went to our bedside to wake Jonathan.
"I think we need to go to the hospital. Something is really happening."
I explained all of my symptoms to Jonathan, and we decided to call the doctor for advice. The doctor on-call instructed us to go to the E.R.
We packed (again) and loaded the car (again), and headed to the hospital.
Once there, things got a little blurry.
Someone asked Jonathan a lot of questions.
"What's your date of birth?"
"...And your social?"
"I don't have time for this," I thought to myself, as Jonathan patiently answered.
After playing 20 questions in the E.R., I was wheeled to the labor and delivery floor for triage, where I learned that my water had indeed broken. And I was really in labor!
"Can you believe our daughter will be born today?" I asked Jonathan once we were settled into a labor and delivery room. It was about 1:30 a.m., and we decided not to call our families since I was only dilated three and a half centimeters.
"She's coming on her due date! It's just like my daughter to be right on time. She's prompt like her mama!"
We were both feeling ecstatic.
Until a couple of hours later when the contractions became really, really painful.
Excitement turned to fear, as I told the nurse I was ready for an epidural. Tears streamed down my cheeks while we waited for the anesthesiologist. I was really, really scared.
Jonathan held my hand tight and helped me focus on breathing. I won't say that it didn't hurt at all, because at the time it did hurt. I definitely felt the pinch in my back, and it was painful at first. However, the pain of administering the epidural was minimal compared to the contractions I was experiencing. And it was certainly minimal in comparison to the pain I would endure in the following hours and days.
Jonathan held my hand tight and helped me focus on breathing. I won't say that it didn't hurt at all, because at the time it did hurt. I definitely felt the pinch in my back, and it was painful at first. However, the pain of administering the epidural was minimal compared to the contractions I was experiencing. And it was certainly minimal in comparison to the pain I would endure in the following hours and days.
Doped up on anesthesia, I was feeling pretty good. And things were moving right along. By 7:00 a.m. I was dilated five or six centimeters (I honestly can't remember which), so we decided to begin calling our families.
By 11:00 a.m. there was a labor and delivery room and waiting room full of visitors, ready to meet Miss Elena. I was dilated nine centimeters, so we felt like she would make her world debut at any moment.
"You'll probably meet your baby girl by lunch time," a nurse said.
Jonathan and I were so excited. So ready.
But lunch time came and went, and then it was mid afternoon. I was feeling tired, anxious and ready to get on with the show. But my cervix wouldn't budge. I was stuck at nine centimeters. And something felt strange. Elena had moved. I could feel her snuggled into my left ribcage; a spot I never felt her before.
There was no progress for nearly eight hours.
Eight long and emotionally trying hours.
By 7:00 p.m., the doctor told us we needed to make a decision. We could either leave the situation as-is and hope that I would eventually dilate to ten centimeters and deliver vaginally. Or, have a c-section.
"I think we're just dealing with a big baby," the doctor said. "At least eight or nine pounds."
Surgery? C-section? Eight or nine pounds?
Not exactly the birth plan I had in mind.
At first I couldn't talk. I was afraid I would shatter if I opened my mouth. The doctor and nurse stood there waiting for an answer.
"Can we have a few minutes alone to process this?" I asked.
The doctor and nurse left the room, and I completely lost all composure. I can't remember the last time I cried that hard or felt that terrified. When I was admitted to the hospital at 1:00 a.m. that day, I had never even had an IV in my hand, and now I was facing major abdominal surgery. Tears poured out of my eyes, as I looked to Jonathan for comfort. He was scared too.
Despite our fears, we were both ready to meet our little girl. Her safe arrival into this world was all that mattered.
We prepped for surgery.
Drugs were administered. My body was washed. Jonathan was wearing scrubs. It all happened within minutes.
As I was was wheeled to the O.R., I made the decision to close my eyes and not open them until I could hear the sweet sound of our daughter's first cry. I didn't want to see the surgical lights or the people in scrubs and masks. I disappeared inside myself and waited for Elena.
Jonathan held my hand tight. Chopin played on a nearby stereo while the medical team discussed classical music and the latest movies they'd seen. Just another day at the office, I suppose.
Meanwhile, my arms and face were quivering uncontrollably from the morphine inside me. Otherwise, I was numb and heavy. I felt the pressure of the incision. But only the pressure. There was no pain.
A few minutes passed...
"Look at all that hair!" someone exclaimed.
Then, she cried.
Then, I cried.
"She was born at 7:49 p.m." someone said.
Her weight: five pounds, fourteen ounces. She certainly wasn't an eight or nine pound baby as the doctor predicted. They told me she was in an odd position (leading with her face instead of the crown of her head), which made it difficult for my cervix to fully dilate for a vaginal birth.
None of that mattered now, though. Because my daughter was born!
She was cleaned, swaddled and placed in Jonathan's arms. I opened my eyes long enough to look to my right where I saw my little family by my side.
Elena was wide awake, her eyes big and curious. She had a head full of dark hair. She was so, so tiny. And so wonderful.
"Absolutely perfect," I thought. "Thank you, God!"
I don't remember much after that until we were back in the labor and delivery room. I was still shaking uncontrollably from the morphine. Jonathan was beside me, holding our little girl while the nurse snapped a father/daughter picture with his cell phone. I wanted to hold her so badly, but I couldn't control the shaking. It took about 20 minutes or so for the morphine to wear off enough, then I held my little girl for the first time.
It was heaven.
I have never experienced that much love. Instant and unconditional. She is lovely, and I feel so lucky to be her mommy.
Happy Birthday, Elena Grace. You came into our lives right on time, and we are forever changed for the better just because you exist.
Love,
Mommy and Daddy
Mommy and Daddy
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| Ready to meet our little girl! |
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| Daddy and his girl! |
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| Holding my precious baby for the first time. |
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| We were so happy to finally meet her! |
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| Our little family. |
