Wow, one year ago this was the day Belly Bean was predicted to make her descent into the world and be named Tatum Bell. One year ago today I was on day three of my sixteen week maternity leave. Forty pounds heavier than I am now, I sat waiting - waiting for some sign that Belly Bean was coming. I consulted the stars, strings, cards and coins, all of which assured me she was coming; but there were no real signs to support my claims. No false labor, no braxton hicks, no bloody signs. Nothing but kicks of contentment from the inside.
Girl, I had my plans... plans of the perfect labor, the early birthday (my original predication was April 25th), the perfect birth. But Belly bean had other plans - like a twelve day extended incubation period. Those final days of pregnancy were filled with wonder (wondering - when is she coming, not wonder awe), deep (as well as shallow) reflection, and prayer. As each day ended I crawled into bed for another good night's sleep (fortunately I was still sleeping well), and I slowly surrendered my expectations of birth.
Those twelve days were precious to me. It allowed reality to settle in to my grandiose expectations of childbirth. As the sun rose each new day, beyond the due date that is, it shed light into my soul and mind that no matter how hard I tried, I was not in complete control of this birth.
When I was eight months pregnant you could not have talked to me about the idea of a cesarean birth - for my choosing was a natural labor, vaginal birth, all with the help and support of my loving husband and caring doula. Oh yes, and the trained doctor.
Looking back, it was my sister who as OB/GYN and mother of twin boys born by cesarean gave me the perspective on cesarean births that I was unwilling to even discuss previously. During an ice cream visit by the Little Family the weekend of my due date (the initial intention being that I would be home with my newborn by now for the boys and Jen and Andy to see), Jen tried to dispel my stubbornness of considering a cesarean birth. She said, "Just ask the boys how they were born." Turning to Drew, then 3 1/2 years old, she asked "Drew, how were you born?" "I was inside my momma's tummy. I unzipped her zipper so I could get a light. It was too dark to read." Jen proudly turned to me and said what would later become my ultimate words of refuge, "Meghan, just let Tatum unzip the zipper." At 41 going on 42 weeks, there was nothing left for Tatum to gain by remaining inside, yet there was everything to loose.
I convinced my doctor to give me the weekend for my body to jump start into labor. She agreed pending a visit to the triage labor and delivery ward to monitor Tatum internally and make sure she was still thriving. And thriving she was. We were released on Friday afternoon to return home and made an appointment to visit the doctor the following Monday. Throughout the weekend I continued my normal routine of doing and trying everything in my power to progress into labor: I walked, received acupuncture, added balsamic vinegar to everything, squatted, and slept. Finally my body began contracting during the evening hours and throughout the night. I was so excited to actually feel something. Timing contractions, I called my doula who said they were good signs, but not THE sign. The contractions stopped in the early morning and then would start again at night.
Finally Monday morning, the contractions stayed through the day. Andrew and I joyfully packed for the hospital and kept our 2pm appointment with Dr. Shaw. During the exam she confirmed that my cervix was at 2cm and admitted us to the hospital (no matter what, we were going to be admitted to the hospital that day for the time had come for Tatum to be born, it was just a matter of how).
So, long (24 hours story) short, we labored naturally through the evening, into the night, into the morning. After watching the full moon pass through the sky of LA and the sun come up again shining it's light on another morning with Tatum still inside I said enough. I took an epidural at 7am at 7cm (that's right, only 5 cm through the night). At 8am my cervix was no bigger, and the doctor gave me my options: 1) pitocin or 2) cesarean. I took a deep breath, looked at the rising sun, and said "unzip the zipper, let's deliver this baby." And so the birth story goes....
Now here we are almost a year later. Tatum doesn't know heads from tales when it comes to
how she was born into this world, and I no longer care for the result is the same - a baby is born. And now our baby is weighing in at over 20 lbs and is about to celebrate her first year of life. Wow, how the days and months pass quickly. When you begin witnessing life as a mother it seems that time passes much quicker than before. Yet the days themselves are filled with so much more love, intense joy, and rich laughter.
Tatum, we are so thankful you made it into this world healthy and happy; and we're excited to see you turn one!
Each day her smiles grows more contagious. These photos were taken December 20th when Tatum turned 7 months. My oh my time does go by. No teeth yet, but we did have our sixth month check-up (yes, I'm a month behind). Tatum has grown to 25 1/2 inches and weighs 18.5 lbs. She's about in the 60th percentile or thereabouts. She was wonderfully even tempered when it came to her immunizations during this visit. She received two shots in the right thigh and one in the left. She wailed when the inch-long needles punctured her soft skin; but was instantly soothed by my picking her up. I was prepared to provide her the ultimate pain relieving source, my breast, but she didn't even need it. Turns out me, just me, was enough.
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