I knew I was a mom when… 22 Dec 11
On the day of my son’s 18th birthday, I thought I would share a story of what it was like to become a mom.
I had a rough pregnancy. I felt sick to my stomach the entire pregnancy. I had preterm labor from 28 weeks on and I was partially dilated. On top of it all, I was terrified I was going to lose him. The Hospital was a solid 30 minutes drive from home. My preterm labor would progress such that within that half hour I could go from the first contraction, to regular contractions 3 minutes apart. I really didn’t have much time to get to the hospital when things moved that fast. Most of the time, it was quickest if I just drove myself.
The drive was gorgeous, though the foothills of the Pikes Peak region. I spent the whole time breathing, and praying. God granted me a comforting site on each one of those terrifying drives: A momma doe and a baby spotted fawn. I saw them every time. I took them as a sign that everything would be OK. I began to pray for that sign on each drive because of how much seeing them comforted me. It didn’t matter what time of day I went to the hospital they were there beside the road, peacefully eating grass.
When the Drs finally decided that it was time to allow him to be born, I was 27 weeks along. We were driving up to the hospital in the early morning hours, about 0430 or so. I remember being so irritated with Hubby because he was driving 45 on the highway. He was more worried about getting there safely than he was that I was going to have the kid BEFORE we even got there. Then I was praying to just get there in time. Again, in the peripheral glow of the headlights, we saw the deer.
We truly made it just in time: So much so that the Dr didn’t get there in time. She was in the room, not yet in scrubs, checking how close I was. She gave the OK to start pushing about 0545 (or so). There was a young nurse there. It was her first birth. She stayed to watch me push.
I began pushing as the Dr stepped over to gown up. The nurse suddenly went “WAIT! WAIT!” to the Dr. As the Dr turned around to see why, I felt T’s little head pop out. One push. Now I admit that is what I remember, but it was about that quick. He was delivered safely at 0555. He was small, and there was evidence that my body had shut down. Had we kept him in one more day, he likely would have died. He was weak, but crying this quiet, pitiful cry. Once he was off the oxygen, and crying well, and not blue anymore, they wrapped up this crying bundle and handed him to me.
They had barely put him in my arms, and the second I took him, he stopped crying. It was one of those “Whoa” moments. I knew I was his mom. He knew I was his mom. Although I was not confident in my parenting abilities, at least I knew he was mine.
Now, at 18 he is almost grown, and too soon will be moving out. Yet when I look at him, even today, I see that tiny little bundle that stopped crying because he was in my arms.
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