Mother's Day: Love lost and born again

Happy Mother's Day!

Last year, I was about half-baked in my pregnancy, and I didn't feel like a mother yet. So this year was my first Mother's Day as a mama. I enjoyed snuggles, sunshine, and splashes with my sweet seven-month old. Mostly, though, my incredible husband made me feel special because IG can't quite put into words yet her love for me. Tony made me chocolate chip waffles, gave me a gift and wrote me a heartfelt note, and let me do whatever I wanted to do all day long. I had plenty of time to read and relax, and we went for a long walk in the sunshine, played in the baby pool, and enjoyed lunch out, where IG enjoyed her first ethnic food: baba ghanoush. She loved it! She's following in our footsteps quite nicely. :)

For the first time, this day was about me. Of course, moms celebrate other moms and grandmothers and other important women caregivers in their lives. But, as Tony put it yesterday, it was my day. For the first time in years, Mother's Day was a happy occasion once again! The past three have felt empty to me. I've been thankful to have a wonderful mother-in-law to celebrate with since my own mama passed in 2015, but no mother can replace your own.



I miss my mom every day. But since October, when I became a mom myself, I wish she were here more than ever. I wish she could share stories about how she raised her babies, and I wish she could give me her wisdom and support. I wish, more than anything, that IG could meet her Nana. I was lucky to see my mama become a grandmother to my nephew seven years ago, and she was amazing. But she has gained a couple more grandchildren since then that she hasn't - and won't - meet.

As a new parent in the age of digital photography, I take far too many photos of my sweet baby. But I can't stop myself - I look for pictures of myself with my mama, and there aren't enough. And there will never be a new one. So I keep snapping photos today.




I really don't mean to be a drag, and one of my great fears is that others will avoid bringing up my sweet mom to me in conversation. But I must acknowledge her absence, because that is all I have left of her.

Before I became a mother, the word "mom" automatically brought to mind my own mama's face. And that was painful to deal with after her passing. But now that I've got my own daughter, I hear the word "mom" and I think of myself. Motherhood is generational, and I'm thankful for that. One leaves us, and a new one crops up. The matriarchal circle of life, our identities are woven together. It's difficult to put into words the emptiness one feels upon losing a parent, but the new love that grows upon raising a child of our own fills part of that space. I've got a new soul to love and cherish, and I smile thinking of my love for my mom, hoping that my daughter will feel that same love for me some day.






Mother's Day is over, but I say, hug your mamas and tell them you're thankful for them and their love. Every day.

IG's Birth Story

IG turned 6 months this week! It's about time I've written the story of her entrance to this world.

Saturday, September 29
IG's due date came and went.

Sunday, October 7
At church, I felt a contraction. Then another. Then another. There weren't Braxton Hicks; they felt different: more irritating, more consistent, more noticeable. They kept coming, every 8-12 minutes, all day long. We went home, alerted my doula, and she told us to be patient, and to let her know when the contractions were 5 minutes apart.

~

Monday, October 8
Another 24 hours of the same. Consistent, fairly regular, unceasing early labor. I was getting a bit annoyed at the anticipation that wasn't amounting to anything.

~

Tuesday, October 9
More of the same. I was frustrated. Tired. Feeling slightly defeated. I decided to start my maternity leave, because I was grossly overdue anyway, and I wasn't in the mental space to teach. Brittany, my doula, told me what I had been experiencing - this extended early labor phase - was called prodromal labor.

~

Wednesday, October 10
6am. A contraction - strong - woke me up. They were strengthening, but still spaced apart. Luckily, we had had an appointment scheduled with my OB anyways, since IG was so overdue (11 days, at this point).

10 am. At the appointment, we did a "biophysical exam," which started with an ultrasound. They checked her position, activity, heartbeat, and practice breathing. They didn't see the practice breathing, but it could be because she was snoozing in utero. Next, we did a fetal monitoring test. My belly was hooked up to a machine and the doctor looked for accelerations and decelerations in her heart rate - which they didn't see. My OB checked my cervix: I was 4cm dilated. She recommended we go straight to the hospital. She wasn't concerned, but she wanted us to be monitored. I was bummed, because my goal was to labor at home, and also I was SO HUNGRY. At the hospital, they don't let you eat! How was I going to make it through labor and delivery?

12pm. We checked into the hospital, I got into a gown, and had an IV put in. We had signed papers, given homemade cookies to the nursing staff, and provided them with our birth plan. The doctor on call strode into the room after a while, insisted on checking my cervix (though the nurse had checked it just 20 minutes prior), and, against my wishes, asked me: "Would you prefer to start Pitocin, or should I break your water?" I reiterated the goals on my birth plan: unmedicated labor and birth; no Pitocin; minimal cervical checks; do not offer medical intervention unless requested... He pushed harder. I told him that my OB had wanted us to be monitored, and that she wasn't concerned. Everything was looking fine on the fetal heart rate monitor at the hospital - those accelerations and decelerations were showing now, according to my nurse. The doctor dug his heels in, and threatened: "You're putting yourself at risk for a stillbirth if we don't get your labor progressing." I burst into tears. My labor was progressing (finally)! Tony and I talked; I told him, "This is why I wanted to labor at home. So I wouldn't be pressured into a birth experience that I don't want! He can't tell me what to do with my body. The baby is not at risk!" Tony suggested we call my OB and ask if we could be discharged to labor at home. When the nurse told her the heart rate was looking right, we got her blessing to go home.

4pm. At home, I was so glad we had made the decision to leave the hospital, although my contractions were really starting to ramp up, and I was feeling anxious that I may need to turn right back around and go back to the hospital. I had a PB&J, though by now I didn't have much of an appetite. Contractions were coming closer together, but not regularly enough. Some were still 8 minutes apart, others were 6 or so. We waited.

11pm. My doula arrived. She and Tony helped me through each contraction, as they were getting stronger and closer together. After a while, I was so exhausted from laboring all day, my labor started to stall slightly. She suggested we try to get some rest. Tony and I napped in the 4-5 minute intervals between contractions.

~

Thursday, October 11

3am. I don't know how I knew, but I was ready to go to the hospital. Contractions were 3 minutes apart. Tony and I got into the car, and Brittany followed us during the 15 minute drive to the hospital. We parked, entered the hospital, and got admitted. Between the entrance and my room, I had to stop and hold on to the wall, desk, or whatever was near me. I got undressed and put on the hospital gown; I was 7cm dilated. Contractions were coming on stronger and faster. A greenhorn nurse put in my IV and must have missed a couple times - there was blood all over my arm. I hardly felt a thing though. She kept asking me to sign papers - I could hardly keep my eyes open. Finally, I raised my voice at her, "Can you wait until the contraction is over before you ask me to do things?" After that, she used Tony as a liaison.

4am. One of the benefits to being free of an epidural is that you can walk, move around, get out of bed, use the restroom, try different birthing positions, etc. You're not confined to the bed. But at this point, I'd been laboring for 21 hours and was too fatigued to take advantage of those freedoms. I did once try to use the bathroom, but the monitors on my belly went berserk. The nurses rushed me back to the bed; IG's heart rate was declining. Suddenly, an oxygen mask was being pulled over my face; I was panicked. The doctor - yes, unfortunately, the same one who had harassed me 12 hours prior - insisted on breaking my water. I resisted at first, because I was scared. He told me, "I need to put an internal monitor on the baby's head. If you don't let me, you could need an emergency C-section. I don't know what the hell is going on with your baby." As if that was going to help calm my anxieties; no, it made me even more frightened. The medical staff was telling me what to do, but not explaining why, and it made me feel powerless. My doula explained what was going on, and I accepted that having my water broken was best for baby.

5am. I could feel the warmth wash over my feet. The contractions were merciless. IG's heart rate settled and I had the oxygen mask removed. It was time to push. I felt like I was ripping in half, but it meant an end to the contractions, so I kept pushing.

5:58am. After forty-five minutes or so, I heard a doctor or a nurse say, "Here she comes. She has red hair like mom!" and then, 8lb 4oz, 20.75in IG was born!

Peep me in the background, bleeding to death :)

IGH

Eleven weeks ago, my life changed forever: my baby girl was born.

I've been meaning to sit down and write about her birth for, well, eleven weeks. But something strange happens when you have a baby: you suddenly have no time for yourself!

...This was a draft that I started in December. It has now been nearly TWENTY-THREE weeks since the birth of my sweet daughter. And this is proof that I really do have very little time for myself.

For the past fourteen months, my life has revolved around the life of another. Pregnancy, preparation, childbirth, recovery, and parenting have been the frontrunners of my responsibilities and consciousness. But it is a goal of mine to make time for myself and my dreams and interests, as well, especially as I approach six months post-partum. And part of that will be returning to writing on a (more) regular basis. On a scale of most successfully reincorporated activities to least, I've also been attempting to make more time for:

• cooking & baking
• reading for pleasure
• crafting
• massage
• exercise
• studying language
• traveling
• re-re-relearning guitar & ukulele

As I return to my writing, I'd love to use this platform as a place to share some insight on my new maternal interests, such as birth, breastfeeding, infant development, and parenthood. I'm no expert, of course, but in this village of motherhood, I hope I can share my voice.

Until next time (and here's hoping next time is not another year's hiatus),

Mama Meghan