Birthing Blues (A Memory)

I just called my Angel Boy to wish him Happy Birthday as he was walked HIS Angel Boy to school just like I used to walk HIM to school, holding hands and chatting nonstop the whole way, a full circle moment.

I’m not seeing him today so I didn’t send a lot of gifts because they’ll be here soon and I like the idea of multiple celebration days plus I can bake his favorite strawberry cake roll with homemade ice cream.

After being in labor all night, I finally entered the stage called transition and it seemed as if things were finally moving along enough for me to push my baby into the world.

At that point, his big fat head got stuck. l tried and tried to push (in agonizing pain) but he wouldn’t budge. I asked the doc to use forceps which he was firmly against for all the right reasons and after a few more attempts, baby’s heart rate slowed.

Between contractions, I remember the doc very kindly tell me there was no other alternative than a C-section, not for my health, but for my precious child’s.

I couldn’t stop crying. This whole experience had turned into a nightmare, not the soft focus natural childbirth fantasy I had wished for, a quiet delivery at home surrounded by my beloved animals welcoming this new human into our family.

I hadn’t prepared myself for any other ending to my story. I had lost all control.

The safety and health of this child I had loved and grown for nine-plus months was paramount. Like I said before, it would never again be all about me.

I remember my mom doing her extremely patient nursey thing with me, but at the same time, she knew more than anyone how every single dip in heart rate was compromising my baby, and I was finally persuaded to have the emergency C-section.

I’ll never forget the feeling of failure as they prepped me and injected the saddle block with the promise that it wouldn’t interfere with nursing, and they were giving me only enough to pull out my still stuck baby. I was awake and could see everything as it happened.

At 9:52 a.m. on March 23, I was finally able to meet my healthy Angel Boy. At 8.5 pounds, it was obvious that he was too big to have been delivered any other way and it’s true that the anesthetic wore off as I was being sutured which was painful on a scale I couldn’t imagine, but I refused additional anesthetic.

I can honestly say that it felt like someone cut out my heart and placed it on my chest. I was born too that day, as a mom.

Like I told him at his 21st birthday party (in front of all of his friends and to his extreme embarrassment) I have loved every single breath he’s taken and that’s 100% true.

Happy Birthday to the original curly haired Angel Boy! (No matter how he got here.)