I’ve been a mother for one year today! Well, if you don’t count the nine months part of that, which most people don’t. I’m very nostalgic today and I have to admit when I was thinking up this post and what I was going to say, I wept to myself a little. Sadness isn’t what causes most of my tears since I became a mother, it’s everything else. I’ll get to that later.
Let’s see, at this time a year ago, I was sitting in a bed in the Labor and Delivery ward of Overlake Hospital and was thinking that soon, maybe, a nurse would burst in saying it was time to push. That was all I could think since I had been in labor so long already my brain was pretty mushy and my tummy very empty. My poor husband was exhausted but stayed cheerful and kind. We thought it would be any minute that our little Caidoc would be born. It also happened to be the 17th, which held some significance for us since we started dating on a 17th and got married on a 17th, so hey, that’s cool!
But we waited, and waited, and waited. And no doctor came in, no nurse (well, they did of course but with no good news). After 24 hours of labor, on a pit drip, dilated four cm, I started crying. I think those were my first tears as a real mother. I had never been in that kind of pain for that long and more than that, I felt like there was no end in sight.
Which of course, I now know is ridiculous because it’s not like he could live in there FOREVER… could he? But I was tired, really, really tired, and really, really hungry (I was one of those pregnant women who ate a LOT CONSTANTLY and LOVED it, so not eating for 24 hours was not going over so well physically or, eh, mentally, ha ha).
It wasn’t until 11:47 pm (he almost wasn’t our “17th” baby!) that my little red, mushed, crying and utterly heart wrenching little boy was pulled from my abdomen. The first thing I thought was, “Why am I not holding him? They said I could have him!” I wasn’t totally coherent that I was being pinned down by four nurses because I had what is know as “the shakes” pretty bad. I felt the strange tugging of being sewn up but the only pain I felt was the screaming of my little baby cold and naked being handled by strangers. And I cried.
The amount of anger and despair I felt cannot be described with words. I believe the birth experience to be a monumental and life altering journey for the mother and baby, one that shapes the bond of the family for the rest of their lives. So, Chris and I had spent the past nine months preparing for the most natural, safe, calming and perfect birth we could provide for our little one. And in a matter of 36 hours of labor, it was torn to shreds. The selfish doctor, the careless nurses, they all poo-pooed our wishes and pressured and bullied us into the exact opposite experience we wanted with alarmist threats. I know a lot of you are thinking, “Well, he’s born, that’s all that matters.” To an extent, sure. But I will hold regret and anger for the way my baby was brought into this world for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
It felt like hours and seconds all at the same time, but finally, I was lifted onto another bed, and sent to the Mother Baby unit. After all the washing and poking and prodding of my poor baby, I got to hold him and kiss him. He was perfect. And I cried.
So, today I was thinking back on that day and I cannot believe it’s been a year. The horrendous C-section recovery, the difficulty nursing, the rashes, the hospital visits, the food allergies, the loneliness of being a young mom, the sleepless nights (and days) and the stress and worry that I wasn’t doing anything right, that folks, brought so many sad tears. But there were happy tears as well, from the projectile poops, the sleeping baby laughs, the new baby smell, the pride and joy of such a perfect child, the first steps, little arms wrapping around my neck, that brought so many happy tears.
I can write and explain sadness and pain and frustration because we ALL have experienced that. But what I’ll never really be able to explain or express with clarity is the absolute and utter totality of the love I feel for my son. And when I think of that, I cry.
