Birth

My due date was two weeks away, but I had an overwhelming urge to pack my hospital bag.  I shoved the thought away, because the rate I do laundry, I didn't want to have my clothes packed for two entire weeks and be out.  Instead, I chose to shower and shave my legs, and I even painted my nails.  You know, just in case something were to happen.  I even started sleeping on top of a towel with the hopes of my water breaking.

I woke up on October 12th, and got ready for another ultrasound and weekly OB appointment.  I had hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of my baby's face in this one, to prepare myself for what was to come, but he was stubborn, and was facing away.  There wasn't a shot of even getting a peek.  Everything was looking great, except that when the ultrasound tech measured my amniotic fluid, it wasn't where it was supposed to be.  He asked if my water had broken, but I hadn't noticed.  Would I have noticed it?  I had developed a cough over the past several days, and, well, any experienced mother knows that coughing can have a...dampening effect.  Could that have been it?  Could I have lost some fluid during one of my coughing spells?  I'd noticed that over the past few days, my pregnancy was suddenly very uncomfortable, and I had really limited my walking.  Luckily, I had listened to my body and had taken it easy.  My ultrasound tech warned me that my doctor was probably going to have me induced that day.

I met with her immediately after, and sure enough, she asked if I was ready, because I needed to give birth that day.  I couldn't believe it.  I wasn't ready!  Not emotionally, and of course, my bags weren't packed.  But at least I had showered.  I was given permission to go home and pack, and to immediately come back.  There was an incredible amount of chaos and stress as we tried figuring out the whole babysitting thing, as well as my husband's work situation.  It was the worst day to be induced, because my mother-in-law was out of town on a bus trip (she was the designated babysitter), and some of my kids were in school and would need to be picked up later that day.

Normally, lying in the hospital and waiting for contractions to speed up was thrilling, but I still hadn't fully come to terms with my baby's cleft.  I wasn't ready to meet him.  There was still fear and uncertainty, and I dreaded each contraction I suffered through.  A day that was supposed to be beautiful and exciting was dark and sad.

At last, the time to push had arrived.  I was terror-stricken.  I didn't want to push.  I really didn't.  But I didn't have a choice.  When I finally heard the cry of my newborn son, every ounce of fear and dread disappeared.  Love, excitement and peace washed over me, and I grabbed for my child.  I looked at his face, and fell in love with the sweetest, most beautiful baby.

I couldn't believe I had wasted so many months worrying and scared of what he would look like, because in that moment, he was the most perfect looking baby I had ever seen.  I couldn't believe just how much I loved him!  The roller coaster had finally come to a stop, and at last, I was on the top.