I am terrible. I know it. One thing I have come to realize is that it is so much easier for me to write in times of pain than times I am totally content. So almost five months later, here it goes….
Number Two made her non-dramatic entry to our tiny universe just shy of five months ago. And everything about her has continued to be wonderfully non-dramatic. She is going to be the opposite of her sister – low drama, low maintenance, amazingly calm and easy going. Total mama’s girl.
Almost a year ago, we scheduled BK’s arrival. No frills, no crazy panic. My body completely cooperated and we made it to the date without issue. After a night of no sleep, thanks to excitement and a rouge mosquito, three AM came fast. I showered, took one last bump pic, a parent selfie, and loaded our tired asses into the SUV. We drove to the hospital a little giggly, a little nervous, and a lotta exhausted. Once in the room, we made small talk and cracked jokes with our nurse – gave her advice about an upcoming wedding and answered dozens of personal medical questions. It was pretty calm and easy even though I was starving.
This time around, I had a plan. It was drastically different than my plan the first time but, in typical “Me” fashion, I had a plan. Last time, I struggled with waiting “5 to 10 minutes” to get my skin to skin. I’ll tell you, it was the LONGEST five minutes of my life. It still pains me to think about it. There is so much instinct in responding to your baby’s cry and, to be strapped to table for their first cries, is the WORST and most helpless feeling in the world. This time, it was STRAIGHT to mama – no passing go or collecting $200. None of this baby to the warmer for measurement and crap – I wanted her and wanted her right away. I made arrangements with the OB, who made arrangements with the pediatric OR nurse. I made arrangements with the anesthesiologist, who answered my million and one questions about drug choices and options.
The repeat C-section was not my first choice but it was the choice that became the most responsible for me, for us. But I wanted it done my way. I wanted my ‘cheesy’ fresh out of the womb baby. I wanted her eyes to open and see me. And my OB obliged. It worked out perfectly. She was perfect. I feel that our un-perfect situation perfectly healed my heart. It wasn’t what I wanted two and half years ago. It wasn’t what I wanted five months ago. But it is what my body needed [my husband needed, my baby needed] to feel like I gave my baby her first hug. To feel that I was the first voice she heard and the first comfort she felt.
This time I stood up for what I wanted. I wasn’t afraid to advocate for myself and my baby – during the surgery and during recovery. It is okay to question protocol and change their set “routine”. During my most recent visit to the OB, she told me she has used my ‘direct to mama’s skin’ process several times since my surgery. My OB changed her process because this new way is good – it is healing – it is what mamas like me need to feel involved in our tiny’s grand venture into the world.
Almost three years ago, I wrote “Everyday, I get a little closer to being okay with how things played out. Someone once told me (not sure who) that it is okay to grieve the loss of a “dream birth”. It is okay to feel sadness that things didn’t work out the way it was planned.” I believed this when I wrote it and still believe it.
Though, now, I believe that THIS is what I needed.
Yes, I have two healthy unbelievable kids. Believe me, not a day goes by that I don’t realize how lucky I am – no matter how they came to be. But their birth story matters to me. It matters to my heart. It matters to my soul. And in the end, I feel that both have found peace.