Happy Birth Day

Jackson is coming up on the one year mark--just a few more days. The one year is significant in my mind because it is the move from baby to toddler. He seems especially mature because he is a walking pro. My other children chose not to walk until 13 months. Because this is his first birthday, I can't help but reflect upon what was happening at this time last year. So, since I never blogged about his birth story, I have decided to do it now. You can skip to the pictures if you don't want the blow by blow version.

At this time last year, I was largely pregnant and very uncomfortable. I was trying to be patient knowing that infants come with their own challenges but my body just wasn't cooperating. It was very uncomfortable to stand for long, but also uncomfortable to sit for long. For that matter, it was uncomfortable to lay down for too long. And the transition from each position was even more painful as the tendons and ligaments in my torso and hips stretched and moaned. On February 23rd I was getting ready for bed and said to Diego, "I can't believe I have another week to wait. This baby literally feels like he is going to fall out of me."

During the night, on one of my many trips to the bathroom, I felt a strange sensation and immediately thought my water had broken. Since, I wasn't having contractions, I decided to go back to bed. At 6:30, Diego started stirring and I awoke him and told him what had happened. The conversation went something like this:

"Diego?"
"Hmmm?"

"I think my water broke last night."

"Ok."

Pause, pause.

"What did you just say again?"

"I think my water broke."

"Uhhh, aren't you supposed to go to the hospital or something?"

I just wasn't sure . . . this had never happened before. I called the midwife who was even less convinced that something was happening. However, she sent me to get checked anyway. Still no contractions.

I went to the hospital at 8:00 in the morning with Diego and the kids. They said "no water leaking." Still no contractions. Sent home. On the way home, a few little contractions came but I wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking. (For me, the end of pregnancy is so uncomfortable that a few weak contractions barely register on the pain radar.)

Diego went to work and I decided to take my children to the park. It was the end of February and there were snow crusties and ice on the playground. The kids didn't care though . . . they were just happy to be outside. Contractions started coming a bit more as I was walking about playing with the kids. When a big one would come I would go sit on the bench and then they would stop altogether. My mother called me to see how I was doing. I told her I was having some contractions but wasn't sure if it was the real thing. She told me to keep track of how often they were coming anyway. (My mom is very experienced with birth and has worked for years with pregnant and laboring women.)

Half an hour later, my mom called me again and I said contractions were coming at regular intervals. Out of her own free will, she decided to leave the legislative luncheon that she was at to come be with me for a bit. It was a good thing she did because by the time she got here, I couldn't get my kids lunch and during contractions, couldn't move. Even then, I still wasn't sure I was "really" in labor so I hadn't called Diego to come home. After all, it had only been about two hours since I sent him to work. However, once my mom saw me, she convinced me that it was time to head to the hospital.

Diego came. We left. She took my kids to her house. I was admitted to the hospital less than four hours after leaving. I was dilated to about a 6. Unfortunately, I had to wait for the anesthesiologist for awhile in which time I became completely sure I was in real labor. The pain was much more severe than my other two labors and at one point I even said, "I don't think I can do this."But then, I sucked it up because really, you don't have any choice, right?

Eventually, the anesthesiologist came wheeling in his little cart of sharp needles. As he came through the door, we heard the nurses yell, "No, not her. Number 2 has been here all morning." The anesthesiologist replied very sternly, "this one is farther along and I can't wait too much longer or it will be too late." Oh, heaven bless that rude, headstrong anesthesiologist.

An hour later, I pushed three times to meet a perfect, complete baby boy. So sweet. We say he is made from sugar. (As a side note, Nicolas says that if Jackson is sugar than he, Nicolas, must be pepper.)

We had a beautiful honeymoon period with the baby and then the ensuing weeks proved to be challenging in multiple ways. We worked through the hard parts and barely remember them and just focus on the fun-loving bundle of sugar that is part of my family.