Remember how I was worried about not knowing what a contraction would feel like? Well, it turns out they were right, you just know. I distinctly remember thinking to myself, "Oh... so that's what it feels like," slightly relieved to have finally experienced (and correctly diagnosed) what was happening. My self-congratulations was short-lived, however, as the next second I felt a "pop". Apparently I was due to beat the odds and have my water break naturally. Again, I just knew.
Matt, however, took a few seconds to convince. There wasn't any panic. I was eerily calm, actually, other than the uncontrollable shaking I was experiencing in our freezing cold bathroom (I think it was the sudden rush of adrenaline and the realization that this was it! No turning back now!).
Cut to the hospital, where I experienced my second contraction, a good hour-plus after the first one. To ramp things up, I got pitocin. My contractions kicked in hard core, sometimes lasting up to three or four minutes at a time. Matt divided his time between laying in the chair watching the late night reruns of Olympic highlights and jumping up to squeeze my hand whenever my forceful breathing alerted him to a contraction.
It was a strange time, lying there in the dimly lit room, knowing what the result would be but unsure how we would get there. The room was filled with the sound of Violet's heartbeat, echoing into whatever dreams I was having. We floated there together, baby and me, in this suspended animation of half-sleep, losing track of how much time had passed. Feeling like we'd been there forever, just floating together until a contraction ripped me out of sleep and sent me whimpering, a death-grip on Matt's hand, my own loud breathing drowning out Violet's heartbeat.
After several hours of this, I was checked and pronounced to only be 2.5 centimeters along. I was disappointed, but took it in stride. The nurse, bless her, strongly recommended I get the epidural (I think she wanted to make sure I had one before her shift change forced her to abandon me, only an hour away). I felt pathetic. From our childbirth classes, I had learned that most docs recommended waiting until 5 centimeters to get the shot and here I was, barely half that. Could I really not suck it up and endure what women for centuries have been dealing with? But rather quickly I relented.
Ah, epidural. Say what you will, I know there are plenty of opinions out there. But once I had the drip, I slept for three hours and woke up to find myself at 9 centimeters (cue the first real moment of nervousness) and the nurses prepping the room for the midwife. The fact that I would be delivered by my midwife and not a doctor was huge. After I hit my third trimester, I was informed that my OB office was discontinuing their midwifery service (damn you, economy!). All but one of the midwives, the women I'd gotten to know and trust over the last seven months, were leaving. Instead I would be delivered by the staff of doctors (competent all, I know, but strangers all the same). It was too late to switch to another practice, so after much drama and tears, Matt and I agreed to stick it out. So the fact that Jonne (the last midwife) came in on her day off to see me through this journey was such an unexpected gift.
Pushing was mostly a breeze. At first I couldn't even feel the contractions to cue to me to push. I had to ask whether I was pushing the right way. Matt did an amazing job counting for me, holding me and most importantly, not looking down there! The most painful part was my upper body, having to curl up in such an unnatural position. I hurt so bad that when Vi was eventually born, I could barely hold her, but fortunately that only lasted a few minutes. Lovely rush of endorphins.
And then she was here. This tiny, helpless creature. Every one of her trembling cries prompted one of my own. All I could do was promise her I'd try to be a good mommy, I'd try my best. I'm still promising her that. It has been an overwhelming first week, full of amazing highs (we have a baby!) and some lows (we have a baby and she's hungry and she's not eating and oh my God what if she's starving and why hasn't she pooped and should I wake her up to feed her she's always so sleepy is that normal and what's with all the hiccups and she's screaming but Matt needs to sleep so he can go to work and I'm in too much pain to walk her around the dark living room and it's 2 a.m. and what if the cat tries to eat her in the middle of the night and oh my God now she's pooping everywhere...!) I wanted a fast-forward button so I could get through all the confusion and come out on the other side where I totally know what's going on and I can look back and laugh at these first few weeks.
But every day gets a little bit better. Every day I get a little more confident, she gets a little more alert, we're starting to get the hang of this feeding thing. Matt and I went to Target for our first late night diaper run and when I returned, I was shocked at how much she had changed, even in the few minutes we were gone! Her face looked so much more mature than when I'd left. She had her inaugural trip to Chick-fil-a (bad Mommy forgot to document the event, but she snoozed through it anyway). She had her first doctor's appointment and got a good report (another confidence booster for me - we hadn't broken her yet!) Her grandmas are already doing their best to spoil her. One minute it seems totally normal that I have a baby and the next, Matt and I look down at her in amazement that we have a baby... Life has shrunk down to the tiny little pinprick in the world that is Violet - beyond her, everything seems hazy and unimportant (although I still managed to be remotely interested in Lost last night). I look forward to it slowly expanding again as Violet takes her place in the world.
