Baby #4 was supposed to be the easy delivery. I joked with everyone I knew that I would be able “to sneeze her out.” I know…TMI…sorry. But my third baby weighted more than 10 pounds and was more than 22 inches long. THAT was my difficult labor and delivery. Or so I thought.
At my 38 week appointment, I didn’t feel right. I joked with my midwife, “Just take me in now…I won’t tell!” I went back to my office where I had a meeting. The others sitting around the table kept saying, “You don’t look like you feel too well…you okay?”
Fast-forward to a couple of hours later around 1:30pm, I was calling my husband from the L&D wing saying, “It’s time.”
I remember thinking, “wait…I was supposed to get induced next week! My family isn’t here…who is going to watch the three older kids? Is my bag even packed? OMG my desk is still cluttered at work…I didn’t finish that brochure yet…I haven’t tied up the loose ends yet.” A million and one thoughts went though my head. While I was READY to have the baby because I was over pregnancy…everything else in my world was not ready.
My upbeat attitude lasted until about 9pm. That’s when I felt the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my entire life. I remember looking at my husband and saying, “What the —- is going on?” That’s when he noticed it…my epidural fell out. Yep. At the height of intense contractions, I somehow managed to knock that sucker loose. I’m not surprised though…with all of the readjusting I try to do on my own in the hospital bed.
You know those scenes in the movies where the husband tries to soothe his wife who is in labor with sweet words and motivational “you can do it babe” lines? Yeah. That was my husband. Sweet guy. But if you have ever felt a full-blown, crazy intense contraction…the last thing you want to hear is something sugary-sweet from someone who has NO idea what this pain feels like. Let’s just say…I was a monster.
About an hour later, the new epidural was in and I was finally in an apologetic mood to my husband…and thought about calling our priest so I could schedule a confession session.
Around 12:30am, it was time to push. I was banking that by 1:00am…I would be holding our new daughter.
I tried every single position.
Three hours of pushing.
She was not budging…she was stuck.
At 4:00am…it was time to call it. It was time for a c-section.
I remember my midwife, nurses and the doctor all apologizing to me…saying they were sorry that I had to have a c-section. This is the thing…I never had a plan. The only plan I had was “get my children out safely.”
I remember being exhausted…like just climbed a mountain exhausted…when they wheeled me into the OR. I remember it was bright white…and very cold. I could barely keep my eyes open…I was absolutely spent. Then I remember thinking, “am I going to be ok? I’ve never done this before. What if something goes wrong? My other kids don’t know I am having surgery.” I started to panic. I remember closing my eyes and saying the “Hail Mary.”
Then I heard it.
I heard her cry.
Aria Isabella came into this world on her own terms…she wanted her birth day to be just as memorable as her big sister.
We all have a plan of how we want things to be…or how we want things to go. We have expectations because that’s how it’s always been before.
We can have our schedules set…everything written down on the dry-erase calendar in the kitchen…but we can’t control life.
There is a much greater power who controls all of that.
Just embrace the ride…and have faith.