My (first) birthing story.

I guess I should start by explaining I was taken out of work and placed on strict bed rest very early in my pregnancy, followed by modified bedrest for the duration of the pregnancy. Oh, and all of this happened while my husband and I were states away from our family, and there was a global pandemic. The year was 2020... (you all already know how THAT year went).

So let's set the scene: I am lying alone in bed, day in and day out, while my husband is working long hours at the hospital. Reading lots of books.. watching lots of shows & movies.. knitting..

counter-cross stitching.. logging lots of bird sitings on my bird watching app

(I'm forever grateful for the collection of bird feeders my husband placed outside all the windows in my line of sight during my pregnancy).

By the time I hit 36 weeks, any time I got out of bed I'd have contractions every 5 minutes. I was determined to

make it past the "pre-term" window, so I laid in bed like a champ that whole week (pretty sure our mattress has a permanent pregnant-Jojo indentation if you look closely).

When got into my 37th week, I was so thrilled I got up one morning to pack my husband's lunch. He leaves for work, I go to our room to resume the position... but as I lay down, I feel a subtle pop. "Did I just pee a little?" For a moment, I roll over and tell myself it's nothing.. but just in case, I think I'll just.... *rolls out of bed as a literal waterfall runs down my legs* "Oh dear."

I call my husband:

"Hey, um, I think my water just broke."

".......Are you serious?"

"Well, if it didn't, then something else is seriously wrong."

I will forever laugh at the series of events that took place while I waited for my husband to get home.

*Heart racing, babbling to myself in a series of incomplete sentences while putting on a clean pair of underwear, which is immediately soaked through... switches to a new pair of underwear (again) but adding a super pad liner, which is immediately soaked through... switches to a pair of depends, which are immediately soaked through... finally just sits on the toilet, letting the fluid collect in there instead of my pants... "Okay, I need to put on my 'to the hospital' outfit..." which is literally a random pair of sweatpants, a plain tshirt, and a rain coat. Why those exact items needed to be laid out ahead of time and designated as my to-the-hospital outfit rather than whatever sweatpants and t-shirt I already had on? I have no good answer for that. After another new pair of depends and donning my very purposeful going-to-the-hospital outfit, I grab my pre-packed bag and head to the garage at the same time my husband gets home.

Riding to the hospital is like a happy daze - we smile, hold hands, hearts racing, saying how the next time we're in this car we'll have a baby in the back seat ... so naive to what was coming...

Hospital triage.. getting admitted to our labor room.. hours of not naturally dilating.. double dose of cervical ripening medication...

*insert a VERY long period of time where I felt like someone was literally ripping my cervix in half*

...finally getting an epidural.. waiting some more hours for my cervix to dilate.. 6.5 hours of active pushing, vomiting between pushes, and crying every time I'd see my baby's head in the mirror during my maximum effort pushing just to see it suck back in when I stopped....

Will I sit here and say my labor was everything I’d imagined it would be? Not a chance.

Did everything go according to the birth plan? Hah! (that's all the answer you need)

Goodness - that was the hardest thing I’ve ever worked through or recovered from!

Were there parts of it I wasn’t thrilled about? Sure, if I really stop to think back through it all, there were things that could have been better.

. . .

But I don’t let myself focus on those things when I think back to that day.

Why? Because they bring a fogginess to the most beautiful, incredible, altering day of my life.

Those 23 hours we spent bringing our son into the world were some of the most memorable and cherished moments my husband and I will ever hold. When I look back on those many hours

spent in the delivery room, I choose to remember the first sound my son made, the look on my husband’s face, the little quivering hands that calmed the minute they were laid on my chest, the tears of overwhelming joy & love that washed down my face as I laid eyes on my baby’s face for the first time…

This isn’t to say we haven’t reflected back on our experience in its entirety, identifying things we wanted to handle differently if we were blessed to be in those shoes again. But those things don’t define my labor - they will never taint the perfect memory of our son coming out to meet us. I won't let them.

Everyone that was involved in that day were like little blessings that came together to help me receive my greatest blessing..

..to my OB who, despite literally being in the process of moving, came to the hospital the second my water broke to make sure I was okay & taken care of before having to go back to the moving truck -

..to the 3 shifts worth of nurses who watched my monitors and tracked my baby's heart rate -

..to the nurses, med students, residents, fellow, and attending who cheered me on for 6 and a half hours of active pushing -

..to the med student who held the other end of my tug-of-war bed sheet through many hours of pushing (I truly don't know how you held the other end of that sheet for so long) -

..to the nurse who performed my cath so many times I lost count -

..to the physician who stitched me up while I held my baby boy in skin to skin -

..to the nurse who cleaned me up after I’d been stitched up -

..to the lactation consultant who made sure I achieved a correct latch with my newborn -

Thank you all for being there. You will all always be a part of the memory of a day that forever changed my world in the best way possible. It was messy but beautiful, scary yet peaceful, & flawed in a perfect way. And it’s MY birth story.

To the Mama reading this who may have had a traumatic labor, a delivery that was completely opposite of your birthing plan, or an experience that is painful to remember - I encourage you to look for those pieces of your story that bring you joy or make you smile. Hold onto THOSE. The rest of it made you stronger.. forced internal growth.. pushed you hard - and it's okay to reflect, feel, even mourn those less-than-perfect pieces. But one day, when you're ready, go ahead and push back - push back harder, letting go of all those pieces that don't bring you joy, love, & peace - and what will be left will be YOUR birth story with light shining only on the pieces you chose to hold.