(aka: Your Birth Story)
Dear Sophia,
On a warm Friday night in March, I sat with your daddy on the couch and tried to pay attention to the TV. I don't get to spend enough time with him, so I wanted to sit next to him as long as I could stay awake. We shared some pretzels and held hands until finally I was so sleepy I could barely hold my eyes open. Around 9:30pm, I went in to the bedroom and climbed in bed. The cool darkness was an immediate comfort and I began dozing off. I had been so physically uncomfortable in the previous couple of weeks that I barely slept at all and any that I could get was a welcome respite.
I had been in bed curled up on my side for about a half hour a trickle of warmth went down my leg. My eyes jerked open. Even though it was a common occurrence that when you kicked my bladder I would pee, I knew this was not pee. I lie still and waited. A few seconds past and the trickle started to turn into a small stream. I was pretty sure this was amniotic fluid, but I always assumed my contractions would have started before my water broke. I stood up in the dark bedroom and gushes of warm water soaked my black leggings. Startled, I cried out to your father.
"Ivan! Come here, please!"
He was dozing off on the couch in the living room and sleepily murmured, "Hmmm?"
My urgency increased as the implications of what was happening were dawning on me. "IVAN!" I called sharply. He was up and off the couch quickly as I made my way to the bathroom with the cell phone in hand. My knees quaked but I tried to hurry so as to avoid soaking Auntie Tash's carpet. Was I supposed to be worried about the carpet at a time like this? I wasn't sure.
"What's wrong, baby?" your daddy asked.
"I think my water just broke!" I breathlessly answered as I shut the bathroom door behind me. I huddled on the toilet and called Labor and Delivery at UCSF hospital. As they were advising me to come to the hospital, your auntie knocked on the door to check on me. "They want me to come in," I called through the door.
We got ready quickly and piled in the car. I self-consciously sat on waterproof pads in my wet pants. I hadn't bothered to change them because there were still periodic gushes of liquid coming from me. I felt water-logged. Your aunt Tash drove and daddy sat in the back seat. We were in a good mood and laughed and joked on the way to the hospital. We marveled that I wasn't in any pain because we had all privately imagined this night going very differently. This wasn't as dramatic as we'd all expected.
It didn't take us long for us to get to the hospital. By 10:45pm I was in a gown and on a bed talking to Dr. Quinn in a hot little room with Tash and daddy packed in there. I was still so sleepy! How could I possibly have the energy to give birth tonight? I wondered. I was scared I wouldn't be able to do it. When they established that you were breach with an ultrasound and informed me that other risk factors made them want to perform a C-section on me, I was relieved.
The contractions progressed rapidly from there, and by 12:30 I was given medication to slow them down because you were coming too fast. I was so thirsty by then but wasn't allowed to have anything to drink since I would be getting anesthesia. I kept asking, "Are you sure I can't have just a little sip?" and was repeatedly and good-naturedly told no.
Nurses bustled about prepping me for surgery and having me sign paperwork and around 3:00 am I was wheeled into the operating room. "Where is my partner?" I kept asking. Dr. Quinn's eyes appeared in front of me behind a surgical mask.
"Don't worry," she assured me. "I won't forget him. We'll bring him in last thing before we get started. I'll make sure."
People swarmed around me and I was embarrassed that I required all this bother and attention--at least a dozen people were in the operating room and engaged in actions of various sorts: counting surgical equipment out loud, monitoring my vital signs as the epidural injection was delivered to my spine, double-checking my identity and condition prior to beginning surgery. By the time Dr. Quinn brought your daddy into the operating room, I was numb from the navel down and laying crucifix-like on the operating table. The doctors and their surgical tools were obscured from me by a curtain across my chest. I smiled with relief when I saw your daddy come in wearing the hospital garb. He took a seat near my head and kissed my cheek. "Here we go," I whispered. He squeezed my hand gently so as not to disturb my IV. Or, more likely, he squeezed my hand and I cried, "Watch out for my IV!" so he squeezed more gently.
You entered the world quietly at 3:45 am on Saturday, March 17, 2012. Once they said you were out and had whisked you away to clean you off and check you out, I strained to listen for you for the first time. For a moment I heard nothing and then you began to cry softly. I smiled with relief and happily breathed, "There she is!" They called out your time of birth and weight (6 lbs., 8 3/4 oz.) and soon after they had put a little striped hat on you and swaddled you snugly and carried you over to be near me. I got my first glimpse of you as the nurse held you next to my face as I lay on the operating table. I kissed your cheek repeatedly and said, "Hi, baby!" I couldn't believe you were actually here. They didn't let you stay long and off you were whisked again.
The night would go on to be surreal. One minute I was sitting with your daddy at home and the next minute I was somebody's mother, destined to be pooped on, puked on, yelled at, whined to, and given many an eyeroll. When I finally got a cup full of ice chips from a kind nurse, it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted in my whole life. I sat up in bed answering doctors' and nurses' questions, munching my ice, and thinking, I wonder how my baby is doing? What are they doing to her right now? What is her take on all this? Oh my god, I just had a baby!
For the first 12 hours or so, when I looked at you it was with a mixture of intense love and fear. This little helpless person! Needs me! Counts on me to do the right things, to make good decisions! And you know what? I needn't have worried that I wouldn't feel enough for you right away. I quickly understood the mother who was in the news recently for covering her children's bodies with her own during an earthquake and subsequent building collapse. This...little person I grew in my body. Suddenly I physically need her.
One night during our hospital stay I followed the nurses advice to skip the 3am attempt at breastfeeding, allow them to feed you formula, and stay in bed and try to get a little more sleep. But I woke up missingyou and your babyness so intensely that I started to cry. I called for the nurse to take me in my wheelchair to the nursery so that I could at least sit near you. An ICN nurse was feeding you a bottle and looked startled to see me. "Everything okay?" she asked.
The tears that had been filling my eyes began to fall. "I just missed her," I explained, "and I needed to see her." She smiled and patted me and handed the bundle that was you over to me. I snuggled you close and sniffed your silky hair.
I know that I am biased, but honestly you're the sweetest little baby I've ever seen. You are so good! You smile easily, soothe yourself well already, and are so snuggly and warm and precious that I can hardly bear it. Today you have a stuffy nose but you rarely complain and are even patient with us as we suck the snot out of your tiny little nose.
Grandma has been with us visiting since before I got home from the hospital, and believe me when I tell you that you are absolutely adored. We dote on you. I will hate to see her go, because the social and emotional support (not to mention the extra pair of hands) has been a really lovely thing.
You are home, my sweet Sophia. You are healthy and perfect and (thank god!) not inside of me anymore. You will always be my little Frijole, and I plan to keep writing to you indefinitely here. I want to document your growth and milestones, and I want to be sure you have my words no matter what happens to me in the future. I want you to know how very loved and wanted you are.
Love always,
Mama
