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October 18, 2002
I wrote this story for our local hospital. They keep a book of birthstories and short stories up in L&D. (I also submitted both my birthstories when requested) When I went up to see my friend the other day I noticed this framed, along with other women’s stories, near the admitting desk up there. I was kinda proud and wanted to share it...
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For years as a child I would stuff pillows up my shirt and walk around like a penguin pretending I was expecting my own little bundle of joy. My pregnancies usually lasted close to 10 minutes with about a 5 second delivery as the pillow descended from under my shirt. I was now a proud mother. I would flaunt my new baby to my mother and siblings, who were surprisingly excited for me. I fed my new baby and disciplined her like a pro. Within the hour my attention would wander, and my baby would once again be reunited with its’ matching bed sheets.
As the years passed my thoughts of pregnancy remained that of waddling, short easy labors, and proud grandmothers. When I actually became pregnant with my first “real child” my impressions of pregnancy changed drastically. It is by far the most responsibility I myself had ever had. I was the only one that could determine the well being of this little person. I took prenatal vitamins like clock work and planned out every meal days in advance. I made doctors appointments on the exact dates they suggested and was always at least 5 minutes early for visits that were normally an hour behind. I would snarl to my husband about the people that had felt impelled to touch my belly that day, but inside I was loving every minute of it. Every second of every day was focused on this small being that was growing so rapidly inside of me.
As my husband and I drove to the hospital the day that I was to be induced, I couldn’t help but think of all the “lasts” we were experiencing. The last good night’s sleep as a newlywed couple; the last peaceful car ride; the last kiss as a childless duo. As I changed into the hospital gown they provided me with I couldn’t help but let myself be overwhelmed with excitement. I think I may have even let a squeal of joy sneak out. The minutes passed like hours until the doctor arrived. He got right to “baby business” and administered the magic gel. I was almost instantly in active labor and now my excitement shifted slightly to fear.
The hours passed like minutes now, as we slowly counted from 1-10. I remember my husband leaning over and telling me that I could do this. After only a short time our beautiful son was placed in my arms. During this moment I had planned on feeling sheer joy and crying like the new baby I had just brought into the world. But instead as I looked into my newborns eyes I felt only amazement. I was amazed that my baby was finally here. I was amazed that I actually made it through pregnancy, labor and delivery. I was amazed at how much more beautiful my son was than any other child I had ever seen. And I was amazed at how my heart ached with love.
Everyday since that faithful day I have watched my beautiful baby turn into a handsome, smart, energetic little boy. I see parts of myself in him that surprise me and parts of his daddy that make me so proud. He is in every way a blessing, and everyday I give thanks that I am the lucky woman who has the privilege of calling this little man my son.
Nicole--
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