The Difference a Year Can Make

Every year, Special Beginnings, the birth center where I delivered Axton, has a party where all the families who have delivered babies there are invited. They have blow-up bouncers, cake, face painting, and you can walk around and socialize with the midwives and other Birth Center Moms.

I remember this weekend last year, I got an email invite for this same party. It was totally discouraging because even though my due date had already come, Axton was still in me. Technically, I wasn't really invited because I hadn't had a baby there yet. And to add to that, technically I couldn't celebrate Mother's Day, either, because I hadn't met my baby yet. So I was just bumming that whole weekend, this time last year.

But tonight we went, and I felt like I was finally crossing it off my list. We had other plans, and we got there just as they were cutting the cake, but I felt accomplished just showing up. *Click* A little piece of my Birth Story Puzzle snapped into place, making me feel a little more whole, a little more complete.

 I found one of the midwives, Suzannah, that was there with me that night, almost a whole year ago. She had a six-month-old baby and I realized she must have been pregnant when Axton was born. She didn't remember us, and neither did Nurse Andrea (don't know who I'm talking about? You can read my birth story here). Not that I thought they would. I asked her if I could take a picture with her and Andrea and she said, "Of course." Then she walked over to Nurse Andrea and said, "Andrea, she wants to take a picture with us. We caught her baby."

My heart stopped for a second when I heard her say that: Caught. 

She was right - they did not deliver my baby. I did that. I pushed him out of me, I worked the hardest I ever had in my life, I cried and felt that pain and that burning and that tearing, it was my voice that pierced the night as he finally left my body -- All they did was simply catch him as he left me.

*Click* Another piece.

And while Suzannah and Andrea might not have remembered me, do you know who did remember me? Nurse Laurel. The nurse that sat on the bed with me and held my hand while Adam took a 30 minute break. The nurse that told me to "Blow it all away," who calmed my nerves and talked to me in a soothing voice. When I saw her I said, "You were my nurse the night I had my baby. You sat on my bed and held my hand. I'll never forget you."

Her eyes lit up and she said, "I DID get on the bed with you, didn't I? I got right on that bed and laid down next to you. I remember that! Dad needed food, so I sent him away, didn't I? ....I told him I wouldn't leave your side, that I would take care of you."

I just nodded, trying not to tear up. Yes, you did say all that, and you did all that.
"Thank you." I told her, finally saying the two words I had wanted to tell her earlier but had been too out of it to do so before she left.

*Click*

And then we went into the room where I delivered Axton. I stared at the wallpaper, its pink flowers suddenly so familiar. I've looked through what few, crummy photos we have of Axton's delivery countless times in the past year (usually with a sigh, wishing I had had a birth photographer there). For some reason, we have two photos of the wall - the nurse must have accidentally taken them.

I've looked at them and wondered why I kept them, uploaded them, click through them - and yet, still haven't deleted them. I guess it's because they tell a tiny part of my story and I can't get rid of even that little detail. But tonight, seeing them in person again, those walls are what brought it all back to me. So many emotions slammed into me like a wave, and I had to sit down. I suddenly began to feel anxiety, as all these memories flooded back to me. There was the rocking chair in the corner I sat on after I got out of the shower, where Adam brushed my hair and drops of water dripped down my back, causing me to shake violently. There was the toilet I had sat on backwards after the nurse suggested it, but I felt so balled up and clammed up that I didn't last long. The exercise ball I had sat on after they broke my water, and I swore I could feel his hard head slamming against my pelvic bone now that the sack of water wasn't there to cushion things. I had sat on that ball and rocked, my head on the bed. That was when we had heard a newborn cry next door, and Adam told me he felt the presence of angels in our room. The tub I sat in as the pressure moved its way down my body, so hard and so heavy I had to lift myself off the tub so I could float in the water. I felt and saw all these things again, and all I could sense in me then was fear and pain...and panic. I knew then I'd have to do it again, one day. That I'd be back - perhaps in a different room or a different state. With a different child and a different midwife - but the rest would be the same. I had to take a few deep breaths as I sat and thought about it all.

--- And then, suddenly, a midwife walked in. She said hi, told us how cute our baby was. Axton took a few steps towards her and my heart burst into a thousand tiny stars. She took our picture and as I heard the *Click* of the shutter -- another moment stopped in time, just as it had a year ago when they took our first family photo --- I knew I could do it. Again. I survived it once, and I'll continue to survive it. If only because I see the beauty and the joy and the love that comes from it.

Here is simultaneously the best and worst photo ever taken of me. It was taken the night Axton was born - obviously I'm fat and swollen and exhausted and have broken blood vessels in my cheeks and eyes, but what really kills me is the damn chocolate in my teeth. Seriously? Someone could have told me. I never thought I would be brave enough to share it with anyone, but I guess that's the difference a year can make. You gain weight, you lose weight (you eat chocolate, you brush your teeth), your son grows up and you shed a tear but you rejoice in the year you had with him. You cherish the bond that's been strengthened with your husband, and you keep going forward.

I can't believe my son will be one in a week. I can't believe I'm celebrating Mother's Day this year as this boy's mother. That night, one year ago, was the hardest of my entire life. But I will forever be grateful to myself for going through it, to Adam for never leaving my side, to God for giving me my son. Happy Mother's Day to me!