I wish I had an exciting story to tell about the day that I went into labor, but I don’t. There was no mad dash to the hospital with the police on our tail or contractions in the back of a taxi. Instead, your father and I chose to induce the labor.
This was because the midwife was concerned that you were going to be over ten pounds by the due date and it would be better to have you sooner, than later. Turns out you were only 8.1, more of a cantaloupe than a watermelon.
The day that we went to the hospital Grammie came to watch your brother and we loaded the car with our overnight bags and set out to have a baby. My hands shook the whole way. This is because going into labor on your own, is sort of like being pushed off of a cliff. There’s only one way down and it’s not you that’s deciding to jump. When the labor is induced, it’s sort of like jumping off of a cliff, rather than being pushed and well, I’ve never been a huge fan of heights.
Once my labor started it started off slow. The hormone gel they had used was taking it’s time to trick my body into thinking it was time to have a baby. Your father and I walked the halls of the birthing center hoping to urge you on. At one point they realized that you weren’t exactly in the correct position and had me sit on the exercise ball on the side of the bed so that you would realign yourself and start preparing for exit. It was at that point that I started to cry. This is probably due to the hormonal changes, the fact that I was in extreme pain and the talk that the midwife had just given me about how we might just have to wait another day and start trying to induce again in the morning. When the Dr. came in to break my water, he asked why I was crying to which I responded… “I’m never going to have this baby” and burst into tears again. During this time, your father sat rubbing my back, no doubt thanking God almighty that he wasn’t the one having to birth you.
After my water was broken the contractions started. I dilated 4 centimeters in 45 minutes, which basically translates to a whole HELL of a lot of pain. When the anesthesiologist came into the room, I was never so glad to see anyone. After 4 tries he finally got the medicine in and the contractions started to subside. Then, we were on our way to having baby. It didn’t take you long to decide to come on out. After a few pushes however, your heart rate started to drop and the midwife told me we needed to get you out in two pushes because you were in distress. I was terrified that if I didn’t get you out then, that something would be wrong with you so when she said push, I gave it my all and you shot out like a bullet.
They put you on my chest for a few seconds and then rushed you away to test you and clean you off, because they were concerned for the miconium that was found when my water broke.
After giving you an initial once over and pronoucing you perfect, they brought you over to me and laid you on my chest so I could take a look at you for the first time.Most babies straight out of the womb aren’t exactly pretty... In fact, most babies come out looking at bit like a boiled chicken. But you were absolutely beautiful. I decided at once that you didn’t look as much like your brother as I thought that you would, but didn’t look that much like your Dad or me either. You just looked like… well… you. As you started to round out however, we found that you did in fact look a lot like your brother, who was also a perfect specimen just after birth.
I think the second child is easier just because you aren’t scared of it. I was scared to death of your brother for the first few days I was home with him. What if I broke him? What if I didn’t feed him enough or he got sick? How would I know? What would I do? With you there wasn’t as much fear, but more fascination, confidence and ease. In fact, most of the fear I felt was how we were going to sell you to your big brother as the blessing that you are.
I needn’t have worried about that however, as your brother is more obsessed with you than any of his cars, boats or planes.
In fact the first word out of his mouth in the morning is, “Tristan?” because he wants to come and look at you while he rubs your head and whispers, “soft” which is what we’ve told him he needs to be when he touches you. It’s so sweet I can almost feel my heart seize and break into a million little pieces.
Welcome to the world little soul.
