The Day I Became a Mother

My first pregnancy was magical. I felt connected to my husband of one year in a way that can only be described as the “honeymoon stage”. It truly was. We always knew we wanted to have children but planned on traveling and enjoying the early years of our marriage getting to know each other on a deeper level and traveling the world.

That was the plan anyway.

In reality, my maternal clock started ticking the moment we said, “I do”. Only a few months into our marriage I decided I was ready to become a mother and so I began my mission to detox and prepare my body to bring forth life.

The conditions were ideal.

I was 29 years old, married to the man of my prayers, and as healthy as they come. I was in the best shape of my life at the time, running 4.5 miles at least three times per week and working with a personal trainer I hired before the wedding to get me ready for my big day. I gave up alcohol, cow milk, and switched to an organic diet.

That February, as we celebrated love as a married couple for the first time, we conceived our first-born daughter. My pregnancy was easy. I was a little queezie and required a slice of chocolate cake almost daily. Other than that my only concern was slowing down my exercise routine, per Doctor’s orders.

Labor and Delivery

The day labor began my husband and I had decided to go on our final date-night before the baby arrived. We went to dinner at a local favorite of mine and to a movie. I sat there the entire time thinking about my Braxton Hicks (so I thought), which remained pretty consistent and only intensified ever so slightly.

As the evening progressed, I knew the time had come. That night I stayed up timing and tracking contractions and the next day went much at the same pace. It was clear we were in labor. I took the classes and read all about the labor process so I knew what was happening. I had heard stories of women being in the hospital laboring for 48 hours, sometimes more. I was not going to do that.

The Birth Plan

My “Birth Plan” was specific, I was to arrive at the hospital when my contractions were 10 minutes apart (as suggested by my Doctor) or when the pain was unbearable (that was my preference). I was certain I wanted to experience the early stages of labor in the comforts of my home. We lived only five minutes away from the hospital where I was to deliver, so my Doctor did not have any concerns with that plan.

Truth-be-told, I barely made it. Because I have a high tolerance for pain, and being a first time mother, I misjudged how far along I was in the process. My husband had gone out to buy us some Pupusas. A pregnant lady ready to give birth, needs nourishment.

When he arrived the smell of the melty greasy goodness overpowered the room and I couldn’t take it. Seeing that I was getting ready to vomit, he rushed to my rescue ready to catch it with both hands like a true gentleman. He managed to bathe me in it instead.

“Oh oh, I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that vomit means crowning,” I thought to myself. “Awesome, but first I needed a shower!”

At that point I was in intense pain, the kind of pain that stops you in your tracks. The contractions became really severe in the shower. The car ride was unbearable. I was literally rything in pain. When we attempted to check into Labor and Delivery I couldn’t even speak. I was rolled into our room and asked questions in bed.

Another important part of my birth plan was that I would not be taking any pain medication. I wanted to fully experience all the pain and glory of childbirth just as my mother and her mother had done so. In my mind, we were created to give life and labor pain was an important part of that journey for me.

One of the first things I was asked was if I wanted an epidural. To which I responded, “well, that depends, how much more of this do I have to go?” I was ready to reconsider and give up on my all natural plan if I was going to remain in that degree of agony!

“Well”, the nurse/midwife said. “Let’s check”.

I arrived in the hospital fully dilated.

“Oh honey, you’re done,” she added. “This baby is coming any minute. I’m surprised you didn’t have her in the car!”

“What?!” I was shocked.

“Let me know when you’re ready to push”, she continued.

“How do I know if I am ready to push”, I asked?

“Oh, you’ll know”.

As the nurse looked away to continue checking me in, I knew…it was time to push!

I had been in the hospital less than forty minutes when Aaliyah was born.

It was the happiest day of my life. She’s perfect!

It’s true what they say, the minute you hold them you forget all about how they literally split you in two right down the middle just seconds before.

I’m a firm believer in the written word. If we don’t document our stories, we forget the details. So get to it. You’ll be glad you did.

What do you remember most about your birth-story?

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