I had my suitcase packed for weeks. For months —if I’m honest.
I couldn’t believe how fortunate I was to be within days of meeting my baby girl. Any day now, I would go into labor and be the most grateful woman/mother in the world — again.
Three years earlier, I’d not only given birth to a healthy ten-pound baby boy but now (sooner rather than later) I’d be made a mother for the second time again and have a daughter. A sweet-as-heaven baby girl to hug, kiss, and love forever.
I will never forget how perfectly that morning went.
Luna’s Birthday
I woke up around 4:20 am to go to the bathroom and felt some cramping. I knew it. I knew this was the day. I felt her telling me, ‘Mom, I’m ready,’ via the umbilical cord. (#twocansandastring) This could be too much information (TMI), or you may appreciate my vulnerability and candidness as you have in the past: I felt something gooey drop as I sat on the toilet that morning. It was mostly clear with a pinkish tint to it. ‘Huh, it really does look like a giant booger,’ I thought to myself.
Seeing that mucus plug come out only confirmed more of what my baby girl was trying to tell me that morning.
“Mom, let’s goooo!”
With a Cheshire cat-like smile on my face, I cleaned myself up and got back in bed listening to my then-husband (let’s call him Darren*) snore like there was no tomorrow. Side note: It really does sound like someone is sawing massive 300ft tall Redwoods link tree logs down. Timmmmmber!
Anyway, I let him sleep for a while; all the while, my rushes (contractions) increased in intensity as the morning passed. Those rushes didn’t let me rest for more than a few minutes, even if my Darren’s snoring hadn’t kept me awake that morning.
Around 7 am my three-year-old son, Liam, ran into our room as he did every morning. First, he snuggled with his dad and then climbed in between us to get closer to me.
For the record: No one tells you just how much your relationship (and life) with your firstborn will change after the second babe comes along. The transition starts long before the new baby is even born. Every morning since Liam could walk (and after he transitioned into a toddler bed), he would run into our room and snuggle with me. But as my belly grew, so did the space between the little (Liam) and the big (me) spoon. Eventually, Liam stopped running to my side and headed went straight over to his dad’s side of the bed.
But I digress.
There I sat, at 7 am on a Friday, propped up against the bedroom wall with burning contractions every few minutes that were getting harder and harder to disguise from my three-year-old son.
“What’s wrong mama?”
[Tears in my eyes and a smile on my face]
“Oh, baby, mama doesn’t feel good. My stomach hurts, but I’ll be okay. And guess what? I think you’re going to meet your little sister soon!”
Later that morning, I had a routine prenatal check-up. I remember laughing, smiling, and joking with my Gynecologist that I think I may be in labor.
“I don’t think so,” he said dryly. “There is no way you’d be that happy if you were in active labor right now. Let’s check you anyway.”
But I was that happy to get lost in the daydream of meeting my daughter that day. I can still remember the look on his face after he checked my cervix. It was a holy-healthy-placenta-Batman-she-IS-having-a-baby-right-now kind of look.
“I guess you were right!” he said in disbelief. “You’re 4 centimeters dilated already. Let’s get you to Labor and Delivery ASAP.”
As my doctor made a quick call down to the L & D department in the next town over and alerted them of my arrival, I sat up quite pleased with myself and in pure bliss, thinking of what the rest of my day was going to be like. After nine long months, I was finally going to meet my baby girl that day (or the next, depending on if her birth was anything like her brothers three years before).
You can read Liam’s story (and my first impromptu inspiration) below. But in a nutshell, I was in labor with him for two days; he was ten pounds and was delivered via emergency C-section (thank you, doctors and nurses, for saving my beautiful vagina that day!). After that, however, I felt adamant about my daughter’s birth being different if given a choice. Of course, I was prepared to do whatever I needed to get my baby girl into this world safe and soundly, but the thought of not having a toddler, a newborn, and major abdominal surgery all at once sounded fantastic.
I’ll spare you more of the gooey details so I can get to the best part of the story. But know that I squatted, rolled around on a “birthing ball,” and said the F-word a lot. Then, sixteen hours later and anesthesia-free, my precious baby girl was in my arms. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how else to describe the indescribable euphoria of natural child-birth and finally holding your son or daughter in your arms other than orgasmic. The experience is unerotic — but blissfully transcendental nonetheless.
I used a birthing bar in the final moments of labor, so after Luna was born, I collapsed back into the wrinkled white sheets and fluffy pillows while the nurses checked her vitals quickly and laid her warm, perfectly petite body on my chest. Oh. My. God. Tears are free-fallin’ down my face right now as I travel back in time to that very moment. I can feel her eight-pound two-ounce heaviness on my chest all over again. I kissed her warm, wet, sweet little dark-haired head and whispered,
“I love you so much, Luna.”
Luna laid asleep on me for hours. And I was in Heaven. Happy. And Relieved.
I never intended to compare my daughter’s birth to gaining 2,012 followers on Medium. But I promised an ‘impromptu vibe,’ so it would be rude of me not to deliver. Although with slightly less intensity, I am overcome with gratitude for my 2,012 readers just as I was the day my daughter was born.
You bring me (Immense) Joy and Relief too.
I’ve experienced more unadulterated glee than I ever thought possible (during the most painful part of my life) because of the Medium community. I want to thank every single one of you looking at this screen right now for your affection over the years. I went from being completely lost, defeated, and drowning in motherhood — to feeling seen, supported, and understood.
Thank you to all my 2,012 friends.
When I started my Medium journey in 2017, I wrote: ‘I’m coming for everything they said I couldn’t have.’
I don’t know exactly where I found that quote or in what article I wrote it, but I assure you — I feel it in my heart (and bones) to this day. So, here’s the kicker: Along with feeling grateful for my daughter and the 2,012 followers I call my friends, I am relieved to have made it this far and want you to know that without you (or my kids), I wouldn’t have.
Thank You. You are Loved! ❤
—
This post was previously published on Age of Empathy.
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