Not Just Any Other Day - Part 1

For years I wrote this date over and over. . . On the top left hand corner of college rule notebook paper, on nursing flow sheets, on letters to friends, etc. Over and over I wrote it, February 4, ####, but it was just any other day to me. But all that changed in 2003 when for the first time February 4th became a significant day. And, little did I know it in 2003 - but that was only the beginning of why that day would become one of the most prized dates on my calendar - hence the 2 parts to this post.

After 6 or so months of trying to conceive, God chose to begin a little life in my womb. And, June 12, 2002 will go down in my book as one of the happiest days of my life. For the first time, I saw the 2 pink lines smiling back at me from a skinny little stick. Dr. Y gave me the date of February 17th as my official due date, and the nine months that followed were nothing short of magical to me. I loved, cherished, and lived to the full every moment of those 9 months. No regrets. I wasn't working during those 9 months. I volunteered at a Crisis Pregnancy Center nearby and had time to spare, time to soak in every moment of the experience. Precious memories. . .

I decided early on in the pregnancy that I wanted to have a completely natural labor. I wanted to experience it to the full, every bit of it. . . I read everything that I could get my hands on about natural labor, watched Baby Story on TLC daily, and spent hours trying to remember everything I could from my clinical experience in labor and delivery during nursing school. I was not confident that I would be able to do the whole natural labor thing, but I was going to give it my best shot. Erik was sure. He is my confidence when I am lacking. He was determined that I would do it, and he was more than willing to do everything to help me make this dream come true - even if it meant reading 2 Bradley books cover to cover and attending 3, yes 3, sets of pregnancy and labor classes. I think the entire nine months were consumed with baby this and baby that. And, I loved every last minute of it - so much so that I wasn't ready to let it go. . .

On January 31, 2003 Erik and I went to see our OB. He was scheduled to check me for the first time. Erik and I expected to hear something like, "You are a fingertip dilated. We will see you next week. . ." Dr. Y was running late that day. It was after 5:00 when he finally got into our room and the office was becoming a ghost town. . . Erik sat beside me in a little chair. Dr. Y asked me if I had felt any contractions yet, and I assured him that I had not felt anything. He checked me and then rolled his little chair backward smiling. . . And, with a half laugh, he said, "Are you sure you haven't felt anything?" I assured him, nervously, that I had not. "Well, you are 3 cm dilated, 80% effaced, and your membranes are bulging. You won't make it until your next appointment." Erik literally came out of his chair. He was so excited. I was scared. I smiled, agreed to come back on Monday for my Group B strep test, and promised to call if I started having regular contractions over the weekend. I remember feeling like someone had hit me in the stomach. I was so scared. I had expected to be late - or at least on time - not early.

We ate dinner and went to a movie with some friends of ours. When the evening was over and it was just Erik and I again, I started crying and cried all the way home - a 30 minute drive. We took our last "belly picture" when we got home that night, and it is easy to see that my eyes were still red and teary. I was scared - scared to endure the uncertainty of my first labor, but mostly, scared to be a mom. Having Joshua inside of me was one thing, a wonderful thing, but having him on the outside was something completely different, something quite frightening to me. I was afraid of sleepless nights, of a baby who I couldn't console, of a whole myriad of things. . .

But, as always, life went on. . . I think I felt a couple contractions over the weekend - nothing that concerned me. On Monday morning I went to see Dr. Y. He checked me again and said gleefully, "You are almost 4 cm! I can make you 4 cm and go ahead and admit you if you'd like." Before he could even say the last of that, I quickly replied, "No, thanks. I'll just wait. I'll call you if I start having regular contractions." This was not the response that he expected, but it was my response. All day I felt like I was about to start my period, so I sat around hoping to put the inevitable off a little longer. I knew the time was drawing near and there was only so much that I could do. . . Erik and I went out for Mexican food that night. We called it our "Last Supper," knowing that we wouldn't eat out alone again for awhile. Then, I lay my little head on my pillow and slept until the contractions woke me up the next morning. . .

And, so I woke up that morning, Tuesday, February 4, 2003. There was no denying it. It was time. My darling husband took his sweet time showering, calling his office and his friends, and packing a little bag. We finally arrived at the hospital around 8:30 that morning. Erik stopped me as we walked into the hospital. We stood there in the parking lot and held eachother - a sweet moment on a sweet day. I checked in and was taken immediately back. I was already 7 cm. Dr. Y asked me if I wanted him to break my water. I declined. It was a wonderful day, a perfect day. The sky was blue, the weather a crisp cool, my mom made it to the hospital on time, and I had a wonderful nurse. The pain seemed surprisingly bearable. When Dr. Y checked me at 11:30 and I was only 8 cm., I agreed to let him break my water. Okay, this is when the bearable became a bit unbearable. I went from 8 to 10 in like 3 contractions. I kept telling my beloved husband that I felt like I needed to push. He kept encouraging me to wait one more contraction and "then we'll call the nurse." He finally called the nurse, and everyone came in ready to the job they do everyday. But, it was all new to me, and I watched intently. Erik, my coach, left to change into scrubs (Dr. Y agreed to let him deliver the baby), so my mom stepped in. And, at 12:33 Joshua was born. They plopped that little red, wet baby on my tummy facing me. And, I just stared in amazement - that came out of me! That darling little baby was inside me? all this time? Whoa.

It was by far the best day of my life, at least in 2003 it was. Erik was so proud of his son and of me. And, I felt his pride. I felt it so strongly, and I loved it, basked in it. Oh, and get this. . . I walked, this is crazy, from my labor room to my post partum room. Yes, one hour after giving birth I walked the corridors of the Women's Center. Thankfully, I didn't pass out! It was a great day, and that was my victory march!!

Joshua was beautiful. He was perfect. I couldn't bear to let him sleep in that silly bassinet. After all, he was used to being inside me, and the bassinet was much too far away, you know, beside my bed and all. So, I slept with him on my chest. I was uncertain about many things - but I was more than certain of one thing. I had never felt love like this before. I changed that day, Febuary 4, 2003, and I will never be the same person I was before. And, that is a good thing, a very good thing. But, the story doesn't end in 2003. . .