Birth

When my mother died in November of 2005, I was a defeated woman. Totally decimated emotionally. I had certain expectations of myself, of my strength to go through the final chapter of my mother's cancer. I wanted to be strong for her, a rock. I also had 20 years worth of fear and trepidation come smashing together all at once. This was the time I had dreaded since my mom was diagnosed with cancer in 1985. Hope was gone. All there was to do was say good-bye and let go.

It was extremely painful to see my Mom get to the point where she gave in to the cancer, to say her good-byes and come to terms with her life. During this time, I found out that our numerous attempts to get pregnant with child #2 had come into fruition. Between dealing with my changing body and my mother's changing body, the strength I was sure I had seemed to leave me. I just couldn't cope. I shut down in so many ways, in constant pain. This pain, depression, anxiety and grief took over my life. In the end, I feel I handled Mom's death with as much grace as possible. But when all was said and done, I felt I didn't have the strength I thought I had. My capabilities as a person were diminished.

At this point, you may be thinking: "Isn't this titled 'Birth?'" It is. Not only did I give birth to a beautiful daughter on Father's Day, but something in me birthed as well.

As previously posted, Friday the 16th seemed like the day. I had contractions patterning out. As the day progressed, the contractions subsided. I woke up Saturday feeling pretty good. I had a few contractions through the day, nothing continuous or sporadic.

When I woke up Sunday, the contractions were back and patterning. They reached a consistent 5-7 minutes apart and were stronger than they ever had been. I called Mel, friend and doula, and asked her to head over. After we talked, we called the doctor who suggested I make the trip up to Baylor Hospital to be checked. They took me to a room and checked me. Sure enough, I was 4 cm and 80% effaced. Welcome to the Show, it is TIME.

In talking with Mel, we had agreed to postpone any epidural/narcotics until I was dilated to a 5 cm. This would *hopefully* prevent my labor from stalling out like it did with my son. We walked the halls, I sat and swiveled on the birthing ball, and sat on the toilet to open my hips. After all this, they checked me again: 4 cm. Phooey. My doctor decided to break my waters, since the Show had obviously started, but just needed a boost to really get kicking.

It got kicking. Pain overwhelmed me. I told Mel it was time for drugs. I was flirting with the idea of going straight to epidural, but Mel talked with me and I decided to use narcotics just to take the edge off. She requested that I get onto my feet and endure a few contractions before we proceeded and I reluctantly agreed. It took a few minutes for M and Mel to get me out of bed. We went back into the toilet area because sitting that way brought me the most comfort. I can't remember if was the first or second contraction that caused my legs to start shaking uncontrollably. I locked eyes with Mel. The pain was become more intense than I ever imagined. I emphasized how much I wanted the drugs now. I also told her I felt I needed to push. She calmly told me I didn't need to yet and to move on the next contraction.

I did, screaming. The nurse said it was time to check me so Mel and M helped me stand. When I did, I had to push, had to. I pushed with all my might. I knew something was happening, but wasn't sure what. I made it slowly across to the bed and laid down. The nurse came to check, sliding her hand down and a stunned look came across her face. She hurried to the call button and asked for my doctor NOW.

I was ready. Ready? READY? Ready for drugs, yes. Ready to give birth? I think I went into shock. My doctor came rushing in. There was a flurry of activity at the end of the bed. All I could think about what that I really needed the drugs, I wasn't strong enough to endure this pain. In the meantime, things got situated and doctor and doula told me to push. In another few pushes, Twiggy was suddenly on the outside on my chest. Voices were telling me to touch my new daughter.

I am still stunned. Somehow I found the strength to make it through and I managed the pain. I MANAGED THE PAIN. I refound my strength. It never left me, I simply underestimated myself.

Healing comes in all forms, and mine has come in a beautiful way. Through death to birth, pain to joy. I have a feeling that my relationship with NJ will be much like that of my Mom and I, one in which we teach each other about this Life. I am so blessed by her and so glad she's here. And I really wouldn't have wanted to get here any other way.