My second pregnancy, while not as traumatic as the first, was challenging in other ways. The family drama was settled and there were no medical issues (thank God), however, my husband lost his job and along with it our family medical plan. I’m banking on baby no. three (if that happens) being my little luck charm. However, knock on wood, we’ll see.
Right now, you are my favorite, sorry Evie. You’re snuggly and squishy and drooly and I just want to inhale you as much as possible before you turn into a toddler. Your birth was so different from your sister’s that one or both seems like a dream. Your birth was a decision and I felt like I had some sort of control. With your sister, it was as if I was falling out of an airplane without a parachute, totally unprepared for surgery and recovery.
However, your entrance was early and caught us a little off guard. I worked my whole pregnancy and by the 37th week, I was tired. I decided it would be my last week and I closed the shop that Friday. Little did I know that a mere four hours later, I would be in labor. What luck! For reference, that was said sarcastically.
I’ll never forget going to the bathroom and feeling a pop, almost like when a joint pops into place, an odd sensation to have in…that area. I stood up, walked over to the computer, stood right in front of your father and my water broke all over the floor. We looked down and I started giggling and saying, “No, seriously, I’m pretty sure my water broke. I know I don’t have great bladder control at this point, but I didn’t pee myself…”
I didn’t have a bag packed yet, I thought I still had plenty of time, *insert eye roll, so I casually started packing a bag as your father called the hospital and Dr’s office. Because you were a VBAC, your delivery was considered high risk, so the doctor on call told us to come right away.
Oh goody, and I was hoping to get plugged into machines even before contractions started. I insisted that it was fine and to take a deep breath, but right on cue, daddy returned to his erratic and manic role as per the birth of Evie.
So, as I
grabbed a paper bag for daddy to breath into grabbed snacks, daddy headed to the car and we arrived at the hospital with only one contraction under our belt. We got checked in and the doctor on call pushed for a c-section. I was not having it and explained that I would have a cesarean only if my baby’s life was at risk. After an, albeit small, battle of wills, I was granted a trial of labor.
And let me tell you, your labor was difficult right from the start. My contractions were strong and very frequent. I was hoping for very little medication, but I was also not the starry-eyed first-time mother I once was, so I eventually caved at 7 centimeters and got the epidural.
When it was time to push, my contractions were overriding the epidural. You were stuck on my pelvic bone, which was causing my right hip to feel as if it was bursting into flames from the heat of 1000 suns. But, Gigi was there this time and it turned out to be one of the greatest moments of empowerment in my life. I felt so in tune with my body, strong and motivated to meet you.
I’ll never forget Gigi’s voice when she saw your sweet little face make its appearance. They placed you on top of my body, still goopy and slimy and I was instantaneously smitten. I had rehearsed this moment over and over in my mind since my first pregnancy and I felt so incredibly complete and accomplished by you.
I don’t know who you are yet, you’re only 4.5 months. (However, one thing I am sure of, you and your sister are both strong-willed, I can only imagine the fights to come…ooh, boy) All I know is I am humbled and deeply grateful for you to call me Momma one day. But as for now, I’m enjoying the late-night cuddle sessions, milky grins and the sheer joy of having a Momma’s boy (because you totally are, just ask Dad).
Ps. Daddy fell asleep while I was in labor, he will FOREVER owe me.
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