I know I’ve mentioned the story of my son’s birth before in the Oct. 1st blog, but to commemorate his big day, I thought I’d give you more of the nitty gritty details this time. I went into labor while moving around boxes and unpacking in my new three bedroom home with a view of the vast Pacific. I was not actually due until November about a week later, but my babies are not ones to wait or be induced into the world as my first one came almost a month early. Since I had my almost two year old at home with me at the time, I called a friend and asked if I could bring him over to her house while I ran over to the hospital just to check as I wasn’t sure if I was in false labor or not. Turns out I was NOT in false labor, but I was in a very slow moving labor.
A few hours later, I still had not dilated past a 3 (I believe it’s when you’re dilated to 10 that you’re ready to deliver), and the baby inside me was not moving into the birth canal. He was staying high and tight in my womb. Just like my youngest boy to be stubborn and come into the world in a much different way than his brother. The bad thing is this way of coming into the world was a little stressful to my doctors and nurses. Either mine or the baby’s heart rate was slowing down every time I had a contraction, and in a small, isolated hospital thousands of miles from even
Not knowing if there was a serious issue with my soon to be little bundle of joy, they decided to perform an emergency C-section to get him out. Needless to say, this was not the birth I had planned for him. I was not happy with the doctor’s decision, but who am I to tell the doctors what to do? So, with pretty much every doctor and nurse on the island in the operating room, I asked them not to cut me open while they covered my face with a mask to put me to sleep for the operation. When I awoke, my baby was no longer in my tummy, and I was not fully coherent for at least 2 days afterwards due to the medicines they had me on for pain. I was still pretty irritated and hormonal when I was awake long enough to converse with hospital staff about the C-section, but I knew it was truly necessary when taking a walk with my baby right outside the hospital in order to get some fresh air. While on this short walk around the hospital grounds, the chief medical officer stopped me to look at the baby. He said to me, “Oh, I was SO glad when I heard him cry after we took him out.” At that moment, I realized that they really thought he might die. I forgave them at that moment for cutting me open when I really didn’t want to be sectioned. I don’t know what my life would be like without either of my boys.
My little bit is strong willed, a class clown, a lover of cheese, crackers, bread, and anything sweet. He is often full of himself, which shows how much ego is genetic. :) It must be nice to have so much self-confidence early on in life. I wish I had more of his confidence in myself sometimes. He is also a giggle box and a cuddler. He’s my baby boy and most likely the last child I’ll ever bring into this world. On his birthday this year, I wish for him all the cheese in the world along with a healthy dose of faith, the kind of love which causes you to put others before yourself and give back to the world more than the world could ever give, a healthy well-adjusted family to spend his life with, and just enough challenges and trials to make him a better person, to develop his character to where it needs to be to succeed and yet hold onto his values and his faith and not destroy him or who he is in the process. Happy, Happy Birthday Baby Boy! I love you!
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