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| Me, brand spankin' new. |
So how did I enter the world?
Well, it all started with a little act of rebellion on my part. Last Wednesday night, Mom was lying in bed performing what she calls a "kick count" to make sure I was still moving about healthily. Since I was quiet and she wanted to spur me on a bit, Mom made a quick, light slap to her belly. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. But, as it happens, on that particular evening, I was in no mood to humor to my mother. (I suppose the fact that my quarters were becoming quite cramped may have left me feeling bilious.) In response to her touch, I swung a wide leg and kicked as hard as I could. Pop! Turns out my kick broke the bag of waters in which I'd been living these past nine months. And that put a clock on my debut. Bag of waters broken, I had 24 hours to get out.
It didn't take Mom long to figure out she was in labor. Within mere moments of that kick, in fact, she was feeling contractions in 3-5 minute intervals. (For those of you who don't know, that's quick.) Mom (between contractions) called the doula, Dad finished packing up the hospital bag, and, after laboring for just a few hours at home, everyone headed out to the hospital.
4 centimeters dilated.
100% effaced.
The nurses and midwife agreed I was well on my way. Mom settled quickly into a delivery room, where for the next six or so hours we progressed toward full dilation. It wasn't easy on Mom, who felt pretty sorry for having skipped her nap on (what was now) the previous day, but she pulled through each contraction like a champ. Months of Bradley Method classes paid off as she used deep breathing exercises and a variety of labor positions to take the edge off the pain and let the contractions do their work of moving me into position.
And then, all of the sudden, Mom needed to push.
"This is why they call it 'labor'," was how one of the nurses put it. And, when Mom later recalled learning that giving birth is the caloric equivalent of running of marathon, this is the part of the birth to which that thought most seemed to refer. Mom pushed and pushed for over two hours in the hopes of seeing my little face for the first time. It was the hardest thing she's ever done, she'll tell you. But--if you'll excuse the cliche--also the most rewarding.
Shortly after noon on August 2nd, I found myself finally in my loving Mom's arms. I think we were all in disbelief for a while after that. And maybe we still are.
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| Mom and me snuggling when I'm just a couple hours old. Don't tell her I posted this one; she's not thrilled with her post-birth look. |
I have to confess that my new presence in Mom's (and Dad's) life has been pretty all-consuming. Fortunately for her (and me), though, I'm a real treasure, so she just can't seem to get enough. Everything about me delights her, from my angelic sleeping face to my satisfied, post-meal burps.
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| My onesie's not lying when it says I'm a "cutie". |
I'm sure Mom will be back online soon, posting updates about my progress and our new life as a family. I know she already has a few stories she's looking forward to sharing; these first few days of life have been pretty exciting! But for the moment, I think I'll give her a little chance to catch up on sleep and/or just stare love-struck into my eyes. Nothing beats that. And I think we both deserve as much of it as we can get.
