I’ve started this post a hundred times in my head and can’t find the words to introduce the most monumental, life-changing, beautiful moment of my life. However, today is Miles’ official due date and I’ve decided that its finally time to put his birth into words, even if they do not give the feelings I had that day justice. I have come to accept the fact that no combination of words, in any language, can come close to expressing what Miles’ birthday meant to me; nevertheless I will work with what I’ve got- this keyboard. So, on to my happily ever after…
I woke up on Thursday morning, August 25th around 7:45ish and had to run to the bathroom per usual as this crazy baby in my belly had been pounding on my bladder like a bongo drum. I was 34 weeks pregnant and it felt like it. I peed and headed back to bed for another exciting day of bed rest. (For the scoop on that, see this post). The covers were still warm and my puppy Goose was at the end of the bed snuggled up and Brian was still hitting the snooze (thankfully he hadn’t been motivated enough to get to work yet). I climbed in and pulled the covers up over my shoulders to get a few minutes of sweet snuggle time before Brian had to leave and Goose was up and barking at the squirrels in our yard. I wasn’t even in the bed for a full minute and I felt a gush- instinctively I jumped right out of bed and went to the bathroom. For a second I thought my water broke, but when I got to the toilet it was blood. I had been having episodes of bleeding so I wasn’t too surprised; however this was not my average spotting. It would not stop. I was stuck on the toilet and began to worry. It felt like I sat there for a good 10 minutes just bleeding. Finally, I called for Brian and we decided I needed to get to the hospital right away. I asked him to grab me some old clothes I wouldn’t mind ruining, and after about five or six ”no not that one”s I was ready to go.
Luckily we already had our hospital bag packed, so we headed out the door. I felt a bit nervous, but I was feeling him move around in my belly like normal and it seemed like it was all going to be okay. If anything I was slightly agitated because I’d guessed that they would stop the labor and keep me in the Women’s Prison…I mean the Women’s Pavilion until my due date. Mt doctor already wanted to readmit me based on my last non-stress test; apparently I was already having too many contractions.
We arrived at the hospital around 8:30 and Brian knew just where to go. He’d become pretty familiar with the hospital the last time we were there. We walked up to the labor and delivery desk and I remember stating, very matter-of- factly, that I was 34 weeks pregnant and bleeding. They asked me how much I was bleeding and I didn’t know exactly how to respond. I suppose they wanted so sort of quantifiable/scientific response, but all I could come up with is “a lot.” (Way to go genius!) They had me go into a triage room and there I saw a familiar face, one of the nurses from our last stay…”How nice, funny seeing you here.”
From that point on everything happened really, really fast. Alarmingly fast. The nurse seemed concerned about the amount of bleeding. She wanted to do a cervical check, but really couldn’t. Soon more nurses came into the room. I remember being asked a bunch of questions and feeling reassured when they did and ultrasound and hooked me up to monitors to see that the baby was doing great. I felt even more certain that they would give me a shot of Terbutaline or Magnesium sulfate to stop the labor. However, more people started to come into the room. Confused, I looked over at Brian and he was putting on scrubs. Did I just miss something?
My doctor arrived within seconds and told me that the baby would be delivered today. I was beyond shocked, at least I think that’s what it was because I had an overwhelming sense of calmness at this news. I am pretty sure that if I wasn’t in shock I would have been mildly freaking out. The familiar nurse looked me in the eyes and said to me “Expect him to be here until his due date.” I felt even more comforted by her honestly despite the content of her warning. Soon someone was having me sign off on some paper work, which I have no clue what it was because I was too busy telling all the other nurses in the room that we were having a birthday today- like it was some party that I had meticulously planned and was inviting them too. Literally there were about eight people hovering around me in this little 7’x10’ room and more in the hall. I remember worrying that someone would walk by and see my who-ha because the door to the room was wide open- Its silly to me now considering that I was fully exposed to a small village of nurses and doctors; what difference would one passerby make?
Like I said this all happened so fast, I can’t recall every detail, but what I remember next is them rolling me down the hall to the operating room. They told me that Brian would be right outside and could come in once they prepped me. No big deal, operation- smoperation. I have no idea where this lackadaisical attitude came from. The room was huge and bright, and filled with even more people in blue outfits. I can only remember three of their faces. My doctor is one, the anesthesiologist is another and the girl who held my shoulders as they administered the spinal block is the third. I do recall carrying on some casual conversation with the nurses, of which I have no memory of the context, (I am glad I don’t remember because I am sure I embarrassed myself). I don’t really even remember any pain with the procedure, just that everyone was being so nice and polite.
They laid me down on to the operating table and I started to feel my legs tingle like they were falling asleep, I could still wiggle my toes so I worried it wasn’t fully working. The anesthesiologist mentioned that I might start to feel a pressure in my chest and may become nauseous. He was right, both of these things happened and made me feel more than slightly uncomfortable. Brian came back into the room, gave me a kiss and I just remember us locking eyes, not saying a word, but knowing exactly what the other was thinking and feeling…but hey maybe it was just the drugs kicking in.
Next my doctor asked me if I could feel “this” and I was all “what?” I guess I was ready. I don’t know when they started cutting me open but I do remember the feeling of distant tugging and pulling and some more pressure on my chest. I stared at my husband, the ceiling, the blue curtain in front of me and back at my husband.
I don’t recall any of the dialog in the room except for one nurse saying “You have abs of steel!” and behind me the anesthesiologist replying “thanks for noticing, I have been working out”. I laughed to myself and I felt more pressure in my chest. Brian later told me that the nurse was practically standing on my ribcage to help push the baby out. Things got fuzzy, but I remember hearing three little grunts.

I didn’t know how to feel. Was he okay? Why wasn’t he screaming? I looked over to my left and Brian wasn’t there. He had left to cut the umbilical cord. Next, a nurse popped around the curtain holding a bundle of blankets with a tiny set of eyes.

She left as fast as she got there and I wanted to complain to someone about that. He was rushed off to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and Brian went with him. All the sudden it felt like the room cleared out faster than if I had called in a bomb scare.
I laid on that operating table for what seemed to be a lifetime. Yea, no, probably longer. There was more tugging and pulling. Tears rolled down the side of my face and into my ears. I had a million mixed emotions. Worry- that my little man was going to be okay coming into this world 6 weeks early? Anger- that I didn’t get to touch him or kiss him before they took him. Joy- that I was a new mother. Agitation- that the stitching up was taking so long. Love- that my husband was there for me and our baby. Excitement- to meet my son soon. There are a ton more, but I realize that this is already getting really long.
The next thing I remember is being pushed to the recovery area. I say area because it wasn’t a room, it was a long row of empty beds. All the curtains were pulled back, I was the only one in there. I recollect thinking that this must be a slow day at the hospital and good thing since I was pretty sure every doctor and nurse in the whole place was in that little triage room about 40 minutes ago…who was taking care of the other patients? I guess there weren’t any?
Everyone within earshot got interrogated by me, I think I even accosted the cleaning lady. How is my baby doing? Where is he? How much does he weigh? When can I see him? When can I see him? When can I see him? You get the picture. Soon Brian joined me in the ghost town of a recovery room-area and he showed me pictures of my beautiful baby boy, or what looked to be my baby under all the cords, tubes and wires. Brian answered all of my questions, each one about three times, because I had to hear it again.
He’s doing okay… he is on oxygen…he’s in the NICU…he weighs 5 pounds 4 ounces… 18 inches long… he was born a 9:21am…he has a ton of hair… and I could see him “soon”.
Umm… I just realized that I have reached a record setting word count on this post, and for the sake of your retinas and my early onset Carpal Tunnel Syndrome (and because this story is definitely good enough to justify multiple posts), I officially declare this story:
To be continued…
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