365 days ago I met my son for the first time

A year ago today I was on the eve of my due date. My parents had flown in from overseas. My best mate was here, armed with the camera and snacks and lots of encouragement. And my husband and I were packed and ready to go.

It was a hot and humid day with sporadic rain showers. Emma and I swam and walked back and forth across the length of the near-by pool while my parents looked on from underneath the shelter and Ryan worked nervously at the office, waiting for a call at any time.

Baby was engaged.

Mama was feeling brave, excited, and at peace.

We were ready to go.

That night I went to bed with excitement, thinking (perhaps hoping) that I’d go into labor that night.

Then, around 2:00am–just hours after Levi’s official due date began–my waters broke and the contractions started hard and strong.

I was going to have a baby. My life was about to be turned upside-down.

It wasn’t until twelve hours later that I went to the birthing centre. By that time my contractions were consistently three minutes apart and we decided it was time to be in the care of our dear midwife.

Soon after arriving I had an internal examination (well, several of them actually), and then four or five different ultrasounds), only to find out that Levi was breech.

It was against hospital policy to birth breech babies in the birthing centre so I was transferred to the maternity ward and robed up for an unplanned c-section.

Although it wasn’t the natural water birth I had desired, I was glad that I was already in labor and things were progressing smoothly. Baby wasn’t in distress and neither was I. My body went into labor naturally, so I knew we were both ready. And my contractions were hard and strong and fast… but not so fast that they had to rush me through with urgency.

I can’t say that lying in an operating surgery and having someone cut you open to deliver your baby is ideal. I felt passive. I felt a little bit ripped off. I felt an element of sadness.

But mostly I felt relieved. And I felt glad.

I was so fortunate to have my child in a nation where the health care is amazing. Where doctors and nurses and my midwife took incredible care of me. The fact that my child was able to be delivered safely by cesarean was a great comfort, even despite the whirlwind of emotions.

I also felt excitement. I knew that in moments I would be meeting my beautiful boy for the first time.

If I could turn back the clock I would have requested a late term ultra-sound. I’ll never know if we would have been able to turn the baby if we’d caught it in time.

If I could turn back time to 5:46pm on Friday, January 26, 2010 I would have insisted that I got to hold Levi straight away while still on the operating table… rather than an hour and fifteen minutes later after they had sewn me up and done God-knows-what-else in the meantime.

But I can’t. And I’ve made peace with that.

Because when you are at peace, you are free to be grateful.

And grateful I am.

I refuse to let these things define the most life-changing moment of my existence. And I am grateful–beyond grateful–that I could even give birth at all.

I still cry when I hear stories of other mothers having their babies placed on their chest moments after that last push. I cry for what I wasn’t able to experience. I cry for my lost hour and fifteen minutes.

And yet my tears are small compared to the tears of so many mothers… and so many would-be, wanna-be mothers. So many mothers that didn’t even get an hour and fifteen minutes with their babies.

I was warned that a child’s first birthday is an emotional time for moms… And here I am, the day before Levi’s birthday and I’m an absolute hurricane of emotions. I believe it’s possible to be warned and caught off guard at the same time.

So what do I do? I finalize party plans. I wrap presents. I bake cupcakes. I imagine photos I want to capture on Levi’s big day. I think about how my husband and I want to celebrate our own milestone along with Levi’s. I pray. I give thanks. I write a lovesong for my boy. I look back through hundreds of photos and video clips and bawl my eyes out. Not because my baby is growing–I’m glad he’s growing and developing and progressing–but because life is short and I’m thinking I want to squeeze it a little bit more.

I’ve tried to relish, enjoy, savor, record, and live in the moment as much as I was able this last year. I wish I had done that more. There will always be more. But I also realize that I did my best. I gave it my all. I could not have done better.

In twenty-four hours time I will commemorate that moment… the moment I shared my first-born with the world:

5:46pm, Friday, January 29, 2010.

just arrived at the birthing centre after 12 hours of labor at home…
receiving the news that levi is breech.

this is me with my brave face while being prepared for the operating theatre.
although i was a little teary and disappointed, i was genuinely at peace… and very excited.

{first look}
he was the most beautiful thing i had ever beheld.

{first touch}
my heart still aches a little looking at this photo.
if a hand could convey longing, love…
i’m grateful at least, that ryan got to hold him straight away.

{first hold}
at last he was mine. my heart exploded a thousand times as he nursed and nuzzled. it was magic.

{first hold}
beaming with pride and joy as i looked at my husband
and midwife with levi snuggled up to my chest.

being wheeled into the maternity ward to introduce levi to my parents and emma.

emma, my mom, and my dad were all there from the beginning until the end….
they were so happy to welcome our miracle when we finally came out from surgery.
although plans changed, we couldn’t have shared this time with anyone more special.

my precious angel just hours old. the most beautiful and perfect newborn i’ve ever seen.

although i was dog tired, i didn’t want to go to bed that night. i didn’t want it to end.

our extremely happy family – healthy and head-over-heels in love.

room 50. our room 50. i’m so glad for this place.

I didn’t really mean for this to turn into a birth story, but I suppose in a sense it’s turned into a version of one… minus the detail. Writing about it again now, a year later, is comforting… almost therapeutic. I have so much to remember, so much to celebrate. I knew I’d be a mushy mess this week, but I’m surprised at how I’m enjoying the mush. It’s all part of the process, isn’t it? It’s all part of the process of growing, moving on, moving forward…

turning the page,

smitten mama

precious levi enters the world

Made with love by Daddy x

happy day of your birth

This is the story of how you were born. Now, you’re a boy… and boys don’t normally care—or want to know—about all the details of birth. But I will try to tell enough so that your future wife can have the details that she’ll want. (Joke sweetie J.)

 

It was 2:30am the morning of your due date when my water broke and labor began. When daddy and I went to sleep the night before, we really did hope that you’d be making your entrance that day… but all expecting parents eagerly look to their baby’s due day with that hope and desire!

As soon as my water broke I immediately started contractions. Throughout the rest of the night (or should I say early morning?!) I continued to have contractions. But they were still 5-7 minutes apart and I needed as much rest as possible for the day ahead so I stayed in bed and tried to sleep.

Daddy helped me with hot packs for the pain and applying pressure to my lower back through the contractions... Except when he was busy falling asleep! J

I snoozed on and off until morning time, but didn’t really get much sleep considering it’s hard to sleep through contractions and I was so excited knowing I’d get to meet you sometime that day.

We spoke with our midwife, Jeannine, and told her that today was going to be your birthday. She gave us suggestions and ideas about how to make sure that labor kept moving along and progressing.

Throughout the morning my contractions would slow to over 10 minutes apart and then speed up again to 4 minutes apart. It was a bit all over the place. We used some essential oils that Nean said would help bring on labor and also some reflexology, applying pressure on different points in my hands and feet which is also supposed to help.

It was raining hard that day (in the middle of rainy season) and our house was full with daddy and I, Gigi and Gramps visiting from America, and Auntie Emma. I tried to watch episodes of “So You Think You Can Dance” to keep me occupied while I waited for labor to progress, but that didn’t last long since I found it hard to follow along through the contractions in addition to my endless trips to pee.

I spent some time outside doing the “curb walk” with Emma holding an umbrella and also did a few sets of stairs. I was still contracting, but just as quickly as they would increase in frequency and duration, they would quickly decrease again.

At Nean’s suggestion I used the breast pump to see if that would speed things up at all, and sure enough as soon as I turned on the power, that little machine sent me having stronger contractions than ever. Half an hour later we were headed to the hospital.

We arrived around 2:00pm in the afternoon. As soon as we got there I went into the birth room so that Nean could do an internal and determine how far I was dilated and where we were up to. During her examination her face started to look concerned… and then she told us that she thought she “felt a crack.”

This confused us as we wondered how there could be a crack in your head! But then we realized she meant a bum crack. She wasn’t feeling your head, she was feeling your bum. You were breech.

This started a series of other midwives coming in to examine me as well as the sonographer who confirmed that you were in fact breech. They told me that I’d no longer be able to birth you in the birthing centre – the natural water birth that I’d hoped for was no longer possible – and that I’d instead need to be wheeled up to the operating theatre to have a birth by caesarean.

I was disappointed to hear this (especially after already being in labor for 13 or 14 hours), and disappointed that we had not found out sooner so that we could have tried to get you turned around in time for D-Day. There were a few tears.

But, I was also glad that you were healthy and in no distress, and I was just so excited to know that I’d be meeting you soon.

It took some time to be prepped for the surgery, and they weren’t in a great rush since neither you or I were distressed. It was 5:00pm by the time I was getting the spinal. I remember looking at the clock as I lay on the operating table and it was 5:15pm.

Daddy was with me, holding my hand, and I was trying the best I could to watch the doctors through the reflection on a small panel on the ceiling. It’s not designed for people to watch – I suppose they don’t want you freaking out or fainting by the sight of it all – but I was glad that the light was hitting just right and gave me a tiny window to sneak a peek and watch your entrance into the world.

And then, at 5:46pm on January 29, 2010 you were born!

The doctors gave you to daddy to hold and I got to touch your face and look at you – the most beautiful of sights – before they took you to weigh and measure you and make sure everything was alright.

Jeannine and daddy took you to an adjoining examining area to check you out and record all your specs while the doctors sewed me back up. (Sewing me up took longer than the actual delivery itself.) I missed you like crazy during those long moments as I lay still on the operating table, and I longed for that moment when I could finally hold you myself with daddy back at my side.

When they were through I was wheeled into the recovery room and waited for you to finally be placed in my arms. It was such a precious moment as I held you for the first time and put you to my breast. You easily found your way to me and attached yourself like you had always known that this was the way it should be.

Daddy later told me there was some loud noise/alarm going off in the adjacent room but I didn’t hear a thing. All I could see was you, and everything else faded into the background. It was a very happy birthday for you my dear Levi Scott Booker. 

I don’t know how long we were there in the recovery room, but eventually they wheeled us to the maternity ward where I ended up staying for the next 5 days.

It was hard not being able to go home as soon as I had anticipated, especially since daddy was not able to stay overnight in the ward with us, but I had to stay longer because I developed a couple of fevers (which in the end turned out to be nothing serious).

As difficult as it was so stay there in the hospital, I know it was for the best. It forced me to take it easy and let others take care of me during those early days, which of course was good for all of us. The hospital staff took good care of me, and daddy and Gigi and Gramps spent most of the days with us. We also had a steady stream of friends visiting, which was so much fun. Finally introducing you to the world was such a joy!

Although your birth didn’t go as we had planned, it was still wonderful and special and so, so good.

You are such a gift to us, and we will forever be grateful for—and celebrate—the day of your birth!

Loving you so much it aches,

mom xx


p.s. These photos of you are from when you were less than 5 hours old... being held in the strong arms of Gramps.