8 years ago today, I was VERY pregnant.
I was not one of those beautiful pregnant women who just glow with the prospect of motherhood. My face was hamburger with the hormones of motherhood. I felt pretty good, though--as evidenced by the jolly pictures above.. Those hormones of motherhood are designed to make you feel pretty good. If I had waited until I was ready for a kid, I probably never would have gotten around to consciously planning a pregnancy. Oliver was the serendipitous result of a seductive shimmy aimed at my husband one summer night. Unplanned, but not unwelcome. As it turned out, pregnancy wasn't so bad. It was a good experience, and I'm glad I went through it once with my very supportive and nurturing husband, CL. I also realized that I couldn't will this to happen, or not. As a career-woman, I was kind of taken aback (and relieved) when biology took over. I was amazed that my body knew what to do in every instance those 9 months. Although we'd prepared with a 6-wk Bradley Natural Childbirth class, we knew what could happen ... everything was normal for us.
Here's what I remember of that fateful day 8 years ago:
I went to work that day ... I knew something was happening in the baby arena, but it was still ok. I worked in the morning. Mild contractions came and went, but I was still able to concentrate on what I had to do that day. I saw a midwife at about noon. She asked me, "Why are you still here? Why aren't you huffing and puffing? You're 6 cm dilated! GO home and come back when you're ready to have this baby."
So I got home at about 1pm. By then the contractions were coming hard enough that I was having trouble concentrating on work. Good time to go home ... so I did. Ate some grapes and a milk-shake and went to lay down to "labor" for a few hours. The grapes and the milkshake came back up at about 4 pm.
The thing about labor is that the contractions come in waves. There's a crest, it passes, and you get a little break to rest before the next one. I won't say it didn't hurt, or wasn't exhausting--It was. But it was manageable. I could breathe through it.
About 6 pm, we went back to the hospital. We might have waited too long --- I thought I might lose it in the car driving across town--but we made it. Got up to the room, went to the bathroom and my water broke in a huge burst. Then the labor started in earnest ... Oliver was born at about 8pm that evening via natural childbirth. It's really messy and exhausting and exhilerating all at the same time. The miracle of birth ...
Kind of strange to have lived with this being in my body the last 9 months, but still not really KNOW him until he pops out at 9 months. And then--
"Baby? What am I supposed to do with this?" Preganancy was the easy part.
We waited 2 weeks to officially name him Oliver (Olivier for the French-speaking relatives). My parents were calling him Luke in the meantime. We just wanted to make sure the name fit his personality. We also wanted a name that signified peace -- like an olive branch. Even in a pre-911 world, we had this aspiration for our child.
I will say the kid gets more intersting every day he gets older and develops more personality and his own interests. He's 8 now--and a very bright , mostly polite kid. He'll go far, if he wants to.
Happy Birthday, Oliver. I'm glad you're here.
Love, Mumma.
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