366 days ago, I woke up from a lovely dream. I had been dreaming about taking a pregnancy test and watching it turn positive. I woke up feeling so lively and happy; in fact, the dream was so powerful that it prompted me to take a pregnancy test. But I couldn't bear to watch another pregnancy test turn negative. So I peed on the little stick and left the room. A couple of minutes later, I walked back in and glanced at the test and did a double-take -- IT WAS POSITIVE!I was completely unprepared for the emotions that would follow the excitement of that day. I don't think anyone ever considers the bad aspects of pregnancy and parenthood...it is masked by all the joy you experience throughout those 9 months after you see that little positive pop up.
The first 8 weeks were full of happiness, worry, anticipation, and nausea as we told our family and friends, fretted over any possible sign of a miscarriage, saw our baby for the first time, and encountered the lovely world of morning sickness. Once we reached the second trimester, the morning sickness gave way to hormone-driven emotions, and scares over a couple of falls. As my belly got bigger, we grew more eager to meet our baby, and at 21 weeks, we learned we would be having a little girl! We had already decided to name her Rachel Louise, and we began to prepare for her arrival.
As I approached the end of my pregnancy, Duane and I grew impatient to meet our
little daughter. We began to see her movements more decidedly as she squirmed in my belly every evening. We wondered who she would resemble -- would she have my lips? Duane's eyes? hair?
little daughter. We began to see her movements more decidedly as she squirmed in my belly every evening. We wondered who she would resemble -- would she have my lips? Duane's eyes? hair? In the last couple of weeks before her birth, the anticipation and impatience turned to overall frustration as I awaited labor. On Sunday, June 22nd, four days past my due date, I was awaiting the induction my doctor had scheduled for that Tuesday. As I laid down to bed that night, I talked to Duane about all the things I needed to pick up the next day. As I listened to him snore himself to sleep, I was once again plagued with the insomnia that had been so present in those last few months of pregnancy (the bigger your belly gets, the more difficult it is too sleep!). All of a sudden, at 11:47 p.m. (yes, I noted the exact minute), I felt this gush. I ran to the bathroom -- sure enough, my water broke! Duane went into a frenzy as I called the doctor, and off to the hospital we went, with me dripping through my three layers of padding and clothes. (You always imagine water breaking as one big gush and then nothing, but let me tell you, it is more like a pulse of water that keeps surging for about an hour or so.)
I experienced 13 hours of labor, though it didn't seem that hard until the last hour. And then, there was my baby -- but it didn't quite click that she was my baby. I remember thinking she was a beautiful baby, but it didn't feel like she was mine. Maybe I was just too tired to realize it, or maybe it was the barrage of visitors, but I didn't really feel like she was my baby until the second day or so, when I was caring for her by myself in the hospital because Duane had gone home to grab some things. I was trying to take a shower a
nd had to roll her bassinet into the bathroom with me. She started crying as I was toweling off and I remember saying, "It's okay, mommy's here."
nd had to roll her bassinet into the bathroom with me. She started crying as I was toweling off and I remember saying, "It's okay, mommy's here." After the fatigue of labor started to wear off and the pain had long set in, I started to get scared. Scared of taking her home, out of the bubble of the hospital where I could send her back to the nursery whenever I needed to sleep. Scared of being a mommy. Scared to move from pregnancy to parenthood.
The following weeks were the hardest of my life. I had experienced a rough labor (although the epidural hid it well) so my recovery was pretty difficult. I had no idea how to care for this little being, no idea why she wouldn't sleep in her crib, no idea how many times to feed her every day or why she seemed so incredibly fussy. I felt depressed that my first pregnancy was over and I was no longer the baby carrier but the baby carer. People didn't say hi to me anymore, they didn't ask about me outside of a courteous "How are you?" It was all about the baby -- and while I adored her, I was starting to understand why they give you so much time off of work for maternity leave. It is hard to have a baby -- physically and emotionally.
Your life changes forever. I can't just pick up and run to the store anymore. I have to make sure someone can watch the baby. I am a walking boob. I adore my time with my daughter but long for time on my own. I watch her laugh one minute and feel this elated joy that I can't even describe. Then in an instant, she begins to fuss and I feel despair because I want to soothe her.
366 days ago, I woke up from a lovely dream and started down the path to parenthood. It has been an amazingly beautiful and scary journey. And even though I get sad sometimes -- sad that the pregnancy is over or that Rachel is growing so fast or that I can't do some of the things I used to -- I look at this little girl and I know it is all worth it. :)
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