So my second Mother’s day has come to pass and as I sit here in bed listening to my daughter’s soft breathing while she sleeps in bed next to me, I realize that it doesn’t get much better than this.
And of course, this is also the anniversary of the night I went into labor.
I still remember that night vividly.
It was sometime late evening when I curled up in bed, exhausted. More exhausted than I could ever remember being before. The next thing I remember is waking up around 1 am not feeling very well. I couldn’t pin point exactly what was wrong, but something wasn’t right.
About an hour later I realized I was in labor.
Truthfully, if I had really thought about it, I could have told anyone that my daughter would come on Friday the 13th… good stuff always happens to me on Friday the 13ths.
Anyway mom was working that night so after I called her so that she could meet us there, my dad drove me to the hospital. It’s funny really that she was working that night because technically it was her first night of the vacation she had scheduled to help me prepare for my daughter’s birth. She had only gone in last minute when they had called needing help.
Well it was a bit confusing at first and my dad and I weren’t sure exactly where I was supposed to go in and being that it was almost 3 am there were not many people around to ask. A nice young man greeted me with a friendly smile at the nurses station and promptly whisked me off to labor and delivery in my carriage (a wheelchair of course).
I was scared but excited to finally meet the little person who had been incubating in my body for the last 9 months.
Because I was scheduled for a c-section the following Friday the doctor decided to go ahead and perform the c-section that night. And since Dani had never turned and had her butt firmly planted over my cervix, a c-section baby she was determined to be. My mom remarked later that she was her first grandchild born with a round head. 🙂
My water broke almost instantaneously with the anesthesiologist’s injection of the spinal block. I still owe the man a new pair of shoes. So who wears brand new shoes to the birth of a baby anyway?
But really, he was my best friend through the surgery, right by my head, constantly asking if I was okay. And as soon as I wasn’t, he did what he needed to do to fix it.
A curtain was hung about midway down my abdomen, so I couldn’t really see what was going on, but my mother, who I chose as my coach, was captivated with the birth of her newest granddaughter. Through out the surgery she was leaning over the curtain to watch.
I remember how quiet it was after she was born. She wouldn’t cry. Everything was fine but my princess has never been a crier, even now. Of course if she is tired or hungry she can be, but overall, she was born a very laid back and happy child.
My daughter’s nurse brought her around to my face to meet me momentarily but then she was whisked away again so that I could be sewn up and toted off to recovery where she would join me shortly.
For hours it felt like my knees were still bent and my feet planted on the bed when in fact my legs were laid out straight on the bed. I was told by one of my recovery nurse’s that it was called muscle memory.
When they placed my baby daughter in my arms for the first time I was awakened. It was like everything in my life that had come before this very moment was a blur. Nothing mattered anymore other than this little angel. She was my savior and she most certainly rescued me from a previous life that was only being tolerated and not lived.
The hole that had been in my heart for the last five years had started to close as I realized I had never truly loved anyone before my daughter. She is the one and only true love of my life.
And with that, I wish all the mother’s reading this blog today the happiest of mother’s days and many more days loving and enjoying your children. And a very happy 2nd birthday to my little girl.