It Was You, All Along

I had a very difficult pregnancy, and suffered through preeclampsia through most of it. I was on and off bed rest from about the 4th month of my pregnancy. After 38 weeks, my doctor really wanted to induce me. But, my ob won't induce unless you are dilated at least 1 centimeter, because she believes that is walking you into a c-section. (Not that there is anything wrong with a c-section, my doctor just felt your body had to be ready for an induction.)

For two weeks I went to the doctor every day. And every day I was not dilated. My due date was March 17th. (We called Michael in utero, baby shamrock, the Irish Jewish child.) On March 14th I went to the doctor and was told I was (finally!) dilated 1 centimeter and my induction was scheduled for tomorrow morning at 5:30 am. I went to work for a few hours, cleaned my office, and left around lunch time. I grabbed lunch and bought a book for the hospital and went home. I wasn't feeling great, my stomach was all knotted up, but I thought it was nerves. I mean, come on, who is really ready to be a mom?

Doug worked until after midnight. He was a tad paranoid about taking 2 weeks off. We had to be at the hospital at 5 am. Needless to say, we didn't get a lot of sleep. I woke up at 4 am in labor. Yes, the morning of my induction I was in labor. Stuff like that can only happen to me. I had this weird fear throughout my pregnancy that I would not know when I was in labor. Um, there was no mistaking it.

As we were driving to the hospital I turned to Doug and said we really need a boy's name. We only had a girls name, which should have guaranteed we were having a boy. (We didn't found out ahead of time.) We needed an m name to follow a Jewish tradition of using the first letter of a name to name after a deceased relative. He said Michael, I said fine, but I hate Mike, so he has to be Michael forever. I still don't really like the name, although it seems to fit my son perfectly.  It's just so boring and unimaginative.

Trying to pick a name could be a whole other post.  Doug and I could not agree on names. I like, what Doug calls, "new age names." I wanted Madison for a girl, Mason or Milo for a boy. Doug likes very traditional names. He wanted Meghan for a girl and Malcolm for a boy. I finally got him to agree on Madeline for a girl, and I was thrilled because that is one of my favorite names. But, we could not agree on a boy's name.  Michael was the only name that Doug and I both didn't hate.

Back to the topic at hand.  When we were arrived at the hospital it was of course overloaded, so I was shuttled off to an overflow room, not one of the gorgeous new birthing suites. Michael was essentially born in a storage closet. But, labor progressed quickly. At 10 am I was 3 centimeters and got the epidural. And 12 pm Doug mentioned he was going to go downstairs to grab something to eat and I said to Doug, "get the nurse, I think I need to push." He got the nurse who looked at me like I was insane. But, she checked, and I was a fully dilated and ready to go. The doctor hadn't even changed his clothes yet.

I pushed for an hour, and I really think that was the hardest part. I was convinced I was pushing wrong. I mean, how come they never tell you how to do that. He was born at 1:04 pm. After announcing it's a boy the doctor said, and he has "golden retriever feet." And he still does.

But, there was one small problem, I thought he was dead. See, his heart rate dropped during labor and he was born with the cord around his neck, and when they put him on my stomach he was gray and didn't move. And for that split second, I thought he was dead. Now, looking back I realize that they would not have put him on my stomach if he was in fact dead, but I really honestly did not think he was alive. And I wouldn't touch him. The nurses must have thought I was the coldest person. And finally, the nurse took him away, cleaned him up, and he started to cry. And so did I.

And then, they handed him to me. And our eyes met. And the minute I saw him, I thought, of course,  it was you, all along.And I couldn't believe how much he looked like his Dad.

Adapted for DC Metro Moms from Jodi's personal blog jodifur.  Jodi writes about being a wife, mother, attorney, and everything in between.