On the day you were born

September 05, 2006 | Category: Mother to the First Power

We will wake him up, and pull him between us in bed. Like we do, every year, on this morning. And we will tell him his story...

Mommy sat, like a bird on her eggs, for 236 days.

Actually, it was 276 days until your egg hatched - but there were 24 days before we knew about you and 16 days during the second trimester when we went to LA and swam in the rooftop pool of the Intercontinental Hotel.

So, yes, it was 236 days of bedrest when all the nice doctors listened with all their instruments and decided that it was time, really time, for you to be born.

At the Evanston Northwestern Hospital, they gave me a special medicine at 5PM that would poke my body and tell it you should be born.

By 9PM your Nana arrived from Boston, and your Aunt Dee was there, and Daddy was singing to you inside of me.

At 1AM, we took a long hot shower. It was supposed to make me feel better, and it did because I laughed and laughed to see your daddy climb in with me with all his clothes on.

At 3AM, I was given a shot to make me rest. Your dad and Aunt Dee would giggle as I would wake up and shout "ow ow ow" with each contraction and then fall back asleep.

At 9AM I got a really BIG shot called an "epidural" and then the nurses said I should try and push you out.

At 11:15AM Daddy saw your head when I pushed! The doctor told us your head was turned the wrong way to be born and manually worked you around to the right position.

At 1PM the doctor said "great pushing but Bear hasn't turned all the way and was well and truly stuck."

2PM, they said "Stop Pushing!" Sweetie, you were jammed in my pelvis. In case you've forgotten, let me remind you: Neither of us liked you there.

At 3PM, the emergency C-section began. It took 52 more minutes to free you. My body was really tired and the machines all were beeping and almost simultaneously, you were born and the doctors decided it was time for me to rest.

As they took you out of my tummy by your feet, you stretched out into the world. The doctor turned you right side up and you surprised her by lifting your head. Then you reached out and grabbed her around the neck. (Yes, Bear, like a hug) She had your handprint there for hours.

Your dad cut your cord and they harvested your stem cells to be donated for someone who needed them - because you didn't anymore. (You see? From the very start, your birth was a blessing.)

The people in white coats rubbed you, measured you, and wrapped you cozy in a blanket. Then your dad grabbed you up. I got to see you and you had dark blue eyes and big cheeks. Your dad held you close to me, close to our faces so you could see your mommy and daddy.

The nurses and doctors wanted to take you to the nursery but they just had to wait until I was stable before your dad consented to leave my side. Because, he was never about to leave yours.

Hours later, when I woke up in Recovery, your dad brought you to me again.

Finally, we really met.

I smelled you and touched you and memorized your face. For a long, long time the three of us rested on that bed together quietly, the way we still do.

On the day you were born, it was warm. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds. A doctor walked with your tiny handprint on her neck. The Cubs were winning in extra innings. Jane Addams would have been 140 years old...

And a miracle happened.

Was I the miracle?

Yes, Bear. You were. And you still are.

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