Tomorrow is my youngest child’s 7th birthday. So when I was invited to share a birth story to highlight Save the Children’s annual report – State of the World’s Mothers…I thought it was only appropriate that I share my words with the world but to write this post as a letter to him.
The State of the World’s Mothers (SOWM) report is Save the Children’s signature annual publication, which compiles global statistics on the health of mothers and children, and uses them to produce rankings of nations within three groupings corresponding to varying levels of economic development. They have produced the reports annually since the year 2000. Though the core report indices are the same every year, each year there is a new feature or story angle added to it. In 2013, the new feature is the Birth Day Risk Index — the index compares first-day death rates for babies in 186 countries to identify the safest and most dangerous places to be born.
Birth Story
Dear Jonah,
Today is the last day of your sixth year. Tomorrow we will celebrate your birthday and your beautiful life. I know all you are thinking about is your party, the presents, the ice cream, and your favorite taco birthday dinner…but I’m thinking about that amazing day, seven years ago, when I met one of the ultimate loves of my life (you).
Yes, I know you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now. And yes, I’m probably embarrassing you. And yes, I promise you can open your presents soon. But for a moment, my love, humor me. Let me tell you your birth story the way I remember it.
May 7, 2006
Everything was set. Bubbie and Gramps arrived to take care of your brother. My hospital bag was packed. Your car seat was properly in the car.
I had my birth plan prepared (although I knew no one would really pay too much attention to it). I was counting down the hours to meet you.
I knew I’d meet you in a few short hours.
May 8, 2006
Because of 48 hours of challenging labor with your brother, the doctors and I decided to have you induced on May 8, 2006. Based on my doctor’s math, you’d be in my arms 9 hours after arriving at the hospital.
But it didn’t all go according to plan.
After sitting in the waiting room (for what felt like forever) I finally got my own room around 11am. I knew you’d be here soon, so the first thing I did was ask for a large cold Coke. I remember enjoying that Coke and thinking I’d only be pregnant for a few more hours. To be honest, I was just as excited to NOT be pregnant as I was to meet you.
Don’t get me wrong…I loved being pregnant. I loved feeling you kick and squirm. But your little 9.5 pound body was doing a lot of damage to my pelvic floor and sacrum. I was ready to relieve some of that pain.
Where was I….
Oh yeah, the Coke.
Because of all of the complications I had during your brother’s birth, this time I had an entire different plan. It was supposed to go something like this…
- 11am Settle into my hospital room.
- 12pm Epidural.
- 1pm Start to induce me.
- 2pm Break my water.
- 3pm – 7:30pm Wait.
- 7:30pm Push
- 8pm Hold you in my arms.
That was the plan. This is what really happened.
The Epidural
I was really nervous about getting an epidural, but the anesthesiologist was amazing. He listened to my fears. He was gentle and kind (unlike the anesthesiologist I had with your brother).
The effects of the epidural were so different from the last time. Last time (with your brother) I could feel and wiggle my legs and feet. This time I felt nothing. It was a little unsettling not being able to move.
Getting Induced
I don’t remember the details, but I think it had to do with my IV and Pitocin.
Breaking My Water
Oy Vey. My doctor was involved with an emergency delivery of triplets that day, so someone sent in an amateur to break my water. I don’t know if he/she (can’t remember) was a student or resident but after many failed attempts of making a hole in my amniotic sac (using a small plastic hook) he/she declared defeat. Over the next few hours, many more amateurs took a stab at my amniotic sac. My amniotic sac won every time.
It was getting ridiculous.
My doctor finally arrived around 9pm to officially (and easily) break my water.
Then I waited.
Unlike the 48 hours of excruciating pain I had with your brother, this time I waited for you to arrive pain-free. I actually slept from 9pm – 5:30am.
May 9, 2006
At 5:30am it was time to push.
YEAH!
Based on the feedback I got while delivering your brother, I knew I was one amazing baby pusher outer.
Other than the unforeseeable, unstoppable, and horrifying shakes I had around 6:30am (that made me think for a moment that I was possibly dying) I was ready to do this.
I loved pushing you out into the world. It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life. With every push I knew I was one moment closer to meeting you, seeing you, holding you.
I’m now realizing this letter really should not be read to you on your 7th birthday (or ever)…but this is how it all went down.
Where was I…
Oh yeah, the pushing.
After many awesome I-could-go-pro pushes later, you were born a little past 7am.
Your delivery into this world was awe-inspiring. Dad announced “It’s a Boy” and then cut the umbilical cord.
Within seconds, you were in my arms.
I cried of joy. I was beaming. You, my love, were finally here. Finally in my arms, exactly where you were supposed to be.
You were perfect.
Ten fingers.
Ten toes.
And your classic hair that was sticking up on the top of your head.
I didn’t want to let you go…but the nurses had to do their jobs and take care of you.
They swept you off to a corner of the room to take all of your specs (weight, height, etc). They dipped your tiny feet in ink and made endless prints of your feet.
I was stuck in bed. Daddy was taking videos. I was in love and just wanted you back in my arms.
They somehow moved me from my delivery room to my hospital room. And I waited for you to arrive.
They put you into my arms when you finally arrived and I never let you go. We were finally together. I couldn’t believe you were finally here. Our mother/son journey was finally starting.
And that, my love, is your birth story.
Happy Birthday Little Love.
Love,
Mom
Did You Know..
A baby’s birth day is the most dangerous day of life—in the United States and almost every country in the world—according Save the Children’s State of the World’s Mothers report, released today.
More than 1 million babies die the day they are born yearly, according to the first global analysis of newborn day-of-death data.
In addition to new findings on newborn survival, the report also features Save the Children’s Mothers’ Index, released annually in the run-up to Mother’s Day. This year it ranks Finland as the best place in the world to be a mother, and Democratic Republic of the Congo as the toughest.
The United States ranks as the 30th best place to be a mother, just above Japan and South Korea—but below all of Western Europe, Australia, Slovenia, Singapore, New Zealand, Estonia, Canada, Czech Republic, Israel, Belarus, Lithuania and Poland. The Mothers’ Index rankings are determined by five indicators on education, income, women’s political representation and the chances a mother and her baby will survive.
I wrote this post as part of The Global Team of 200, a highly specialized group of members of Mom Bloggers for Social Good that concentrates on issues involving women and girls, children, world hunger and maternal health. Our Motto: Individually we are all powerful. Together we can change the world. We believe in the power of collective action to help others and believe in ourselves to make this world a better place for our children and the world’s children.
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