10 Years!

Alice turned 10 years old today! Usually I write a letter to her on her birthday, but today I thought I would share something different. I started this blog when she was about 6 months old. The first 6 months of her life were exclusively recorded in my journal and in letters to family members. I thought she might like to read what I wrote in my journal when she was only 5 days old...

...it's longish, but not abnormally graphic...just "birth story" graphic with references to bodily fluids and my own maternal anatomy...proceed at your own risk...

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3-19-07
27 years old

So much to share! She's here! Our precious Alice Elizabeth decided it was time to make an appearance 3 weeks before her due date. I couldn't be more pleased, and everyone was so surprised. It started with a "pop" on Tuesday, March 13th, at 10pm. Bobby heard it, since we were quietly lying in bed trying to sleep. We had just finished our Childbirth Education class at Carle Hospital that night. The "pop" felt different from a regular kick, but it wasn't painful. I used the bathroom and went back to bed and suddenly felt a warm gush. Instant panic and excitement at once. I flew out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to confirm my suspicion--fluid streamed out and I shakily said to Bobby, "Uh, I think my water just broke." 

We were both a little panicky. He searched for the number to Labor and Delivery while I continued to leak. I was shaking, trembling, cold and in shock. When we called the hospital, I hadn't felt any contractions yet. They said we could stay home until they got 2-3 minutes apart or too hard to walk + talk through or 4-8 hours maximum. So I put on an absorbent pad and we went back to bed. Neither of us had any intention of sleeping, but we kept the lights off and tried to stay relaxed. The contractions started weak like menstrual cramps, then got stronger. I had pelvic pain and lower back pain with each contraction so I got out of bed to count and walk it off. We thought I would have many hours of this so we didn't take it too seriously.

Bobby finished packing the hospital bag. There were a couple really bad contractions that lasted twice as long as the others and made me want to throw up...I nearly did. They started at 15 min apart, then 7, then 3. We decided to go. We had been using some of the coping techniques learned in the class--counting, breathing, different positions, walking, swaying. They all helped. I was really looking forward to the jacuzzi tub. 

At 3:00am, we arrived at the ER and checked in. I thought we might have come too early since the contractions felt a little weaker. They showed us the L+D room we would be using. I changed into a gown. There was a lot of mucus coming from down there and a little blood, too. They attached the fetal monitor and started asking me all the questions I should have completed earlier. Oh well, I had tried to do it a week earlier but they said they were too busy to take my call right then. So I laid in the bed, with Bobby right beside me, and took on one contraction at a time while answering questions, signing papers, and making my drug preferences known. Bobby stood at the bedside and held my hand through each contraction--he counted for me, helped me to breathe more calmly, and literally worked me through each one. 

The nurse asked if she should start an IV for pain meds and I said I would like to know how far along I was before making that decision. She checked me and said I was 9cm dilated, fully effaced, and the baby's head was engaged. Bobby and I both gasped and couldn't believe it. Well, I thought, if this was as bad as it was going to be, I could finish without drugs. It wasn't easy. It wasn't pleasant. I needed Bobby right there for every one. He left my side for a moment to get another cold washcloth for my head, but a contraction was starting and I started to panic that he wasn't there. He came running back just in time. 

The midwife, Lori Evans, asked if I was ready to push. I didn't feel the urge to push so much as a lot of back/pelvic pain with each contraction. When I paid attention to the pressure in my bottom, I decided I could try pushing. I did it just like the instructor had shown us in class that day. I pushed the hardest I could imagine. And when I matched with the peak of the contraction, I felt like my pushing was magnified 2-3 times. I could feel the baby's progress. It was painful, but I knew the only out was to push this baby all the way. When she crowned, they asked me if I wanted to feel her head or bring over a mirror. I was so focused on pushing and pushing that I didn't want to open my eyes or take my hands off my knees. I knew she was there and that she was very close to coming out. 

When I pushed out her head, she stopped sliding back between pushes. Bobby said her face got smooshed a lot, but everything down there was so swollen and abnormal looking that it wasn't an easy thing to observe at length. A few pushes later, I hear them say something about an arm, and then all the pain went away with a gushing, warm flow. She was out. She was here. She had had some cord wrapped around her, but they quickly untangled her and lay her on my belly. 

She was so blue, coated in vernix, and flailing. Then she cried...a deep, throaty cry that I loved to hear. They wrapped her up in towels/blankets and I just held her. She cried a little, then calmed down. I stared at her and wondered, "Now, who is this person?" "Who are you?" I didn't cry right then. I just couldn't believe it. Bobby held her, cradled her, put his face close to hers and said, "Hello, little Alice." That was her name, and we knew it long time ago. None of the other names were even in my mind. 

They started to stitch me up--apparently Alice wanted to enter this world like the superhero she is. She had her arm outstretched up by her face and "flew" out like Superman. The extra pressure from her shoulder made it necessary to get a few stitches. It didn't hurt, though, and I was simply in awe of this amazing creature who looked a little like Bobby, a little like me, and a little like my dad. 

Bobby said he was feeling a little light-headed, so he handed Alice to me and sat on the stool next to the bed. He then got this very peaceful look on his face as he slumped over and hit the floor. He had fainted dead-out. He doesn't remember hitting the floor or falling. He just woke up there. The nurse brought him juice and the midwife said he had to go to the ER because she heard him hit his head. They wheeled him down there in a wheelchair, asked him a few questions, checked his pupils, and sent him back up. Meanwhile, Alice was getting weighed and measured in the L+D room. A healthy 6lbs 15oz and somewhere around 18 inches long.

We held her and tried to nurse her, but my nipples were pretty flat. It was hard for her to latch on. We were moved to the post-partum room about 7am or so. Alice was taken to the nursery to be seen by the pediatrician during rounds. Bobby and I tried to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about her. I felt guilty that she wasn't sleeping with us. At 8am, I asked Bobby to go get her. He was gone a long time because the pediatrician wasn't done yet. She spent the rest of our hospital stay in our room. The lactation specialist gave me a nipple shield to help with nursing. Bobby and I "relaxed", tried to sleep, tried to feed her, and changed diapers until they discharged us. We brought her home and showed her her room. We lay her in her crib and rested some more. 

The days that followed were some of the toughest and sweetest days of my life to date. I had an intense and instant love for Alice--I thought only of her. Feeding was frustrating, she was still losing weight, and I was still insecure with all the newborn sounds and behaviors she was making/doing. I kept thinking of all the things that could go wrong with her, all the ways she could starve to death or suffocate or anything. 

Sunday night was the most terrifying night. I was holding Alice in my arms and she was eating with all those gasps and squeaks and coughs that she normally does, but I didn't know they were normal. I started thinking she might have a breathing problem and might stop breathing any minute. I couldn't put her down. I couldn't leave her. I started to cry because I wasn't ready to lose her. I knew I needed help, so I woke up Bobby. He was startled and worried and yet very sure what we should do. He said we should kneel down and pray. He prayed for Alice, he prayed for me, and I just sobbed and sobbed while Alice slept in my arms. Bobby told me I needed to sleep, that Alice would be okay. He put her in her crib and lay with me in bed while I revealed all my fears--so many things I could do to hurt her, so many things I could forget to do that would hurt her, and she was so vulnerable. I loved her so much that I thought she might be taken from me. Bobby promised me he wouldn't leave her side all night. I cried myself to sleep absolutely certain that that would be the last time I saw my baby alive. Bobby fed her with the formula samples they gave us at the hospital and I slept. I slept + slept + slept for 7 or 8 hours. In the morning, I felt much better and Bobby was wasted.

We went to the doctor for a weight check and she had started regaining. Then we asked about the breathing and learned that she was perfectly normal for a newborn despite how scary it sounded to us. Then we went to the breastfeeding clinic and purchased a breast pump to help with my supply + nipple shaping. I left the hospital that day a much more confident and happy mother. Things have been much better since then. I can see she's getting fatter and stronger. She poops and pees plentifully, and she's a content little baby who sleeps a lot and hardly cries. 

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Reading this again, after so many years, I see that my feelings for Alice have not changed much. I still have an intense and instant love for Alice. I still sometimes worry that my inexperience might do her harm. I am a more confident and happy mother, despite being distanced from Alice's current bathroom habits :) I've mentioned this time and again on this blog, but here it is once more...my relationship with Alice is complex. She is bright and empathetic and strong in her own right and I'm so stinking proud of her for being true to herself. I admire her strengths and worry about her weaknesses and wonder how best to navigate our future together. She's not a boundary-pusher, but her experiences help us shape the first boundaries/expectations for all of our children, and sometimes she gets reigned in because her younger siblings can't handle greater responsibilities. That's hard. She is truly good. Deep down inside. She acts on others' needs as soon as she notices them. She's responsible and self-motivated. She creates ideas and makes plans to bring those ideas into reality. She gathers/organizes/motivates people around her. I can trust her to do what's right every time, no matter what. I marvel at what this girl is capable of and everything she's already taught me. She is a powerful force in my life and I love her fiercely. Ten years in, and I am still "simply in awe of this amazing creature."

Happy Birthday!