There are moments in life that you never forget. Some can be
so devastating and life changing they are forever etched into your memeory even
if you’d rather forget them. Some will
never go away because the joy in that moment was so overwhelming that the memory
will last a lifetime. Occasionally you have special memories that fall under
both of these categories. As Charles Dickens once wrote, “It was the best of
times, it was the worst of times…”
Seven years ago today I left the house at 4-something in the
morning to head to the hospital.
Normally, I would exhaust all other options before agreeing to be
anywhere in the world at an hour such as this, but I was desperate to have,
what felt to be a toddler by this point, out of my body. I was convinced she would come out walking
and talking because how else would you explain the 220 pounds that the scale so
rudely displayed that morning. I had
been scheduled for induction at 38 weeks because she was measuring 8 plus pounds
and my previous child was 9 pounds at birth. It didn’t help that I was a whale.
Huge. Biggun. My hair was even fat.
Uncomfortable only tips the iceberg of how I felt. I never could have
made it another 2 weeks.
They started the pitocin at 8am and come to find out they
don’t administer the epidural at the same time.
(stupid) Most of the day was a blur and went by quickly until the pain
gradually got worse into the afternoon.
I listened to the nurses talk about the 2 other women who came in and
were induced at the same time that day. If it were a race they would have
closed down the track and everyone would have gone home by the time I finished
the race. The other two babies were born
in the early afternoon and there I was…still waiting. And waiting. I got my epidural and it wasn’t long before I
was ready to push. Well, I couldn’t feel it(praise the Lord!) but the nurses
said I was ready to push. I pushed so
long that the epidural had worn off quit a bit. Enough for me to feel the rage
and wrath being inflicted on my birth canal. When the doctor finally came in I was
exhausted. He strutted in, plopped on his chair, snapped his rubber glove and
said, “Don’t tell my wife where I am”. I
am always one to enjoy someone’s sense of humor, but in this specific moment I
don’t remember appreciating his little joke as he sat between my legs as my
reproductive system was being ripped apart.
Soon after that, around 8pm, my little girl made her
appearance. She came out with the biggest lips you have ever seen. Fourtunately
they went down. She was beautiful. She was perfect. I had never wanted a girl.
I had hoped for only boys, and in that moment I knew that God knew exactly what
He was doing entrusting me with that big-lipped baby girl.
As I watch her grow I can tell that she is so much like
myself. She is strong, funny, and giving.
She likes to sing and dance to her own beat. She loves to help people in
need. She is so honest. Brutally
honest. She is wild and crazy and loves
life. She hates animals. She is terrible at sharing. Anything sweet? She’s
in. Anything green? Not so much. There are so many things that she is and so
many things that she isn’t, but I know for sure she will always be my baby
girl. Even though she is 7 now and I am loving her FROM THIS SIDE OF THIRTY.
