A Birth Story

My not so wee one arrived in a blaze, or was it a haze of glory. As furious as his birth was it was such a relief. Not a relief as in it's over, the pregnancy is done... but all the stress of how he was going to get here and when was finally put to rest. If I could have chosen his lines, they would have been drawn in black on white paper. Clear and uncomplicated.

I will never forget the morning he began his decent. I lay in bed around 2 am, feeling torn between my two children, one who needed me desperately, lying in her hospital bed... and the other cradled safely in my womb. I felt like I was a traitor in some ways, I could have just opted for an induction and stayed in hospital, just four floors above my DD's room. I consider myself very rational and knew I would do the right thing when the time and place called for it. Going home that day was one of the strongest feelings I have ever experienced. Even though my heart strings were being pulled towards the hospital, my mind and soul would not let me bend. It was early in the morning (felt like the middle of the night) when I made the deal with my weeist one. I turned on the breast pump, “just one more time” I said out loud, but not loud enough to wake my sweet DH who slept beside me. I rubbed my belly and talked softly to the wee one who has shadowed DD and me for the last nine months through her world of cancer treatments and hospital stays. "This is it babe, your way late!” “If you’re not making your way here by 7 am when I'm due back at the hospital for DD's Chemo, I'm calling Midwife and telling her I loose, and its induction. If labour starts and all is well, it's your message to me we are staying home". I turned off the pump, answered DH's question "Anything?" "No, nothing we'll have to see in the morning". I turned over, cried for a moment and fell to sleep. Six am arrived in what felt like 5 minutes. I woke to contractions once again, knowing instinctually this was it. Seventeen days over due and contractions, humm could be labour right?

Mom petit Bebe, got stuck. Even though I have had a birth experience that was difficult in regards to shoulders getting stuck, I was not fearful, at least not in the way one might expect. Yes he was stuck and required some maneuvers to help him free himself, but I felt sure, I felt strong and confident. He was bigger than I had anticipated, he hide it very well. I look at him today and I know he was meant to be big, it's who he is. Even today he continues on his growth spurt, unlike his siblings who quickly gave up the girth and moved towards a more manageable size. DS is tall! He's chubby and has a smile as large as life to match. He's DD’s guide through all her pain and sorrow. I suppose it's best to be larger than life in order to fill those shoes.

I remember the emotions, after my older DS 10lbs 10oz was born, most were joyous, but some were very powerfully sad and painful. It's been almost four months since my wee babe was born and I feel nothing but happiness and awe at the memories of his arrival. I'm not trying to minimize the series of unfortunate events, gessh that sounds familiar? My overall impressions then and now are positive! Those incredible midwives who I'm sure don't realize the gift of labour and birth enlightenment they hold within themselves. I hope they can and will share their knowledge and teachings for the benefit of others.

As difficult as his birth was, I feel no sense of fear in relation to my current pregnancy and upcoming birth. Each of my pregnancies and birth experiences are unique and until there is cause for concern, I'm not letting my caregivers shroud this pregnancy in what ifs creating something that does not exist.

I'm going to put together a birthplan and pass it along hopeful those involved in my prenatal care can see the need for peace and help me enjoy these last few months as I nurture this baby, and prepare for birth.

Life is Good