I've talked about my pregnancy at length here....in these pages.
It's why I started this foolishness.
I wanted to document what I hoped would be my third, but FIRST actual full-term pregnancy.
Pregnancy was not easy for me.
I was violently nauseous for the first 4-5 months...
I had UTIs the entire time and had to be on antibiotics.
My Cerebral Palsy'd body was not equipped to handle the stretching of ligaments and realignment that comes along with carrying a baby...
I had to use a wheelchair.
There was so much pain....
And more PAIN.
Then my amniotic sac sprung a leak...
Yeah. THAT was awesome. By awesome? I mean utterly terrifying.
Would we ever fucking make it?
I was not so sure.
But I wanted this child more than....I didn't think I could have handled another loss....
We finally arrived at the home stretch.
Despite my visions of Doulas, and soft lighting, and music, and natural birth, I was told that a Cesarean was my safest option.
In the beginning? I was heartbroken.
By week 38?
GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME NOW!
I miss sushi! I miss walking!
IT IS TIIIIME.
I had been given my epidural...
I was laying on a cold metal table...
The lighting was harsh...
The smell of an operating room, familiar.
They were cutting me open...
My OBGYN had the radio on.
He was singing along to Caribbean Queen.
My husband was seated at my head...
He looked terrified.
This was not the way I wanted to bring my son into the world!
I wanted intimate. I wanted special. I wanted....
not Billy Ocean, that's for fucking sure.
They told me that they were ready to pull him out.
I felt the surprising and immense pressure...
Breathe. Please Breathe.
Where is he?
I don't hear him!
Oh. My. God.
I hear him.
He is not happy with the current state of affairs.
He's screaming with all his might...
And I am happier than I have ever been.
[This post was written for the Red Dress Club, as part of their Red Writing Hood prompt. I'm trying to get involved....NERVOUS.]