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| Photo provided by SarahCole Photography |
I was determined to have as few interventions as possible, so my heart sank when I found out I had Gestational Diabetes. I made it my job to control those numbers and be insanely conscientious about what I put in my body. "I will not have a big baby". "I will not have a big baby". Repeat. This is what I heard in my head for 4 months. Well, I controlled those blood glucose numbers like nobody's business. And even though my doctor "felt" neither of us was in danger my gut told me otherwise. "I will not have an induction". "I will not have induction". Repeat. This is what I heard in my head for several weeks. Guess what?
I had an induction.
I remember most of those two days so vividly. I took my time getting ready, carefully applying make-up and curling my hair. Little did I know then that it would be the last time I'd be primping. Moving on... It was a cool, crisp day. I checked my bag. Then, checked my bag again. Everything was there, everything to have the perfect delivery to bring my perfect baby into this world.
I brushed off the advice to refrain from eating or drinking anything and gave my Gestational Diabetes a big F you by noshing on Taco Mayo. Everything was just. Perfect.
My bags were in the room, Mom and sister ready to help, favorite nurse Jessica on duty, and my birthing plan placed firmly in said nurses hand. Everything was just. Perfect.
My induction was started upon arrival with Cervadil. Mom was settled into her hospital recliner and sister long gone when it hit me. I just couldn't get comfortable. Then this little banter between my Mother and I went on for about an hour where she would wake up and say, "you need to get some rest honey because tomorrow is a big day" and then I'd say, "I don't know what's wrong. I can't get comfortable". I decided I needed to pace. So I paced. And paced some more in between wanting to choke my Mother when she'd lift her half-asleep head and say, "It's so cold in here I can't zzzzzzz". Who falls asleep mid-sentence? She does. All the while I'm thinking...YOU can't sleep? I start to realize that perhaps something is going on here and buzz the nurse. Lucky me, I'm one of the small percentage of women that the Cervadil works like magic on and creates intense contractions every 2-3 minutes. Yeah! I'm gonna meet my baby soon right? Wrong. I was a 1. Whomp. Whomp.
The Cervadil is taken out and we move on to the big guns. The big guns being Pitocin. Or as I like to call it, the Devil. I fully intended on using my perfect little birthing ball and do all my perfect breathing. I had that on my birthing plan after all. Well, my plan didn't take into consideration that I'm a big, fat baby and wanted to kick a kitten pretty early on. The contractions continued every 2-3 minutes so I gave the ok to get the epidural. Ah, the epidural. This is where I think to myself, "I'm going to take a nice long nap and wake up to being told to push". I saw that scenario on A Baby Story once. Yeah, no. Not so much. The good news is that I now know what it would feel like if my right leg were filled with sand.
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| Harper In Utero |
I tried. I tried my little heart out to will my body to just do what it was supposed to. I was one day from my due date after all. I recall the Dr. coming in and telling me I was a 2. A two. A freaking 2. He broke my water. I'd never heard of that so early. The pain-free me would've never agreed to that. From then it was mostly a blur. My sisters and Mom were there. I remember begging for something, anything. The anesthesiologist comes back in to "try" again. No such luck. I tell him we aren't friends. I'm then administered IV pain meds, which might as well have been kool-aid for how much good it did me. There was a moment that I looked into my Mom's eyes and I felt for an instant that she could feel every decibel of pain I was. I saw deeper into her soul than ever in my life. Her eyes read, "I'd take this if I could. I love you. I'm scared for you, but I'm trying to be strong". She redeemed herself from the falling asleep thing. That look propelled me forward.
I don't recall much of the final hours, but I'm told I decided mid-way that breathing in general wasn't so necessary. All I recall is pain, then pain lessening, voices around me, voices screaming at me to breathe, and then pain again. I was indignant that my Mother kept telling me to breathe. I didn't know, however that I literally was not breathing. Also, I threw up all over my sister. <----That was unfortunate.
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| Photo provided by SarahCole Photography |
I don't remember being checked, though I'm told I was, until I was a 9. A 9 people! Now that's a number I can get behind. I'm in the home stretch right? Wrong. I was a 9 for an eternity. Ok, it was roughly 2 1/2 hours. FINALLY, I'm told to push. My sisters alternated holding one leg, while my Mom held the other. Everything was going to be perfect now. Nope. I'm told to stop. There's a lip. I'm thinking, "I don't know what the hell a lip means in there, but somebody better find a way to get rid of it!" Guess what? We never got rid of it. So I pushed and pushed. And pushed some more. Ok, you get it. In comes the Dr. in his preppy little RL Polo and designer jeans (why I didn't notice the breathing thing, but I paid attention to his attire I'll never know). He tells me I need "a little help". A little help in the medical world apparently means a baby vacuum. That wasn't in my birth plan. Her shoulders were stuck. Yeah, ouch. I just wanted her OUT, but my energy was waining. There was this moment where I knew a C-section was in my very, near future. I dug in my heels and gave one final push feeling every inch of the rip as her shoulders "popped" thru.
And then it stopped. The pain. It was gone. I reached out and held her to my chest. I didn't even look at her at first. I just felt her breathing her first breaths of life while my sister cut the cord. The world stopped.
Photo provided by SarahCole Photography
In those first few minutes of holding her I realized that the last 24 hours was just as hard on her as it was on me. And that we were lucky to have each other. On March 25, 2013 at 7:32 PM my sweet, little Harper was brought into the world. All 8 lbs and 1 oz. of her. Remember how I wasn't going to have a big baby, right?
Wrong.
Looking at her then and now I know that SHE was my plan. That's all that matters. She is here. And she's just magical. I wouldn't change a thing. Everything is perfect right?
Right.
