6 In Lifestyle

Your Birth Story, Alexa

Note: It has taken me awhile to post this, but today felt appropriate, being Mother’s Day and all.

An hour old.

Dear Alexa,

First let’s start with the pregnancy, which although easy and not hard in the slightest from my perspective was nonetheless fraught with a lot of medical intervention and concern that I had borderline pregnancy-induced hypertension. I was subjected to a lot of monitoring and peeing into ginormous jugs (no, really) to make sure I hadn’t developed pre-eclampsia. I didn’t. But you can imagine how worried I was. I’m one of those people who obsessively researches and googles and freaks herself out. So I was just excited when I made it to 37 weeks without a hitch.

When my OB asked me about my birth plan, I thought my request was simple: No C-section.

An hour before you were born, and I’m freaking out.

Turns out that was even asking too much. Apparently your dimensions were a little wonky as far as a newborn goes. Most newborns have watermelon heads and small bodies, but you had a proportionate body, one in which your shoulders measured wider than your head. So what, right? Well, apparently this drastically increases the risk of shoulder dystocia, in which the baby can get stuck in the birth canal after her head is out because her shoulders are too wide. If you had a watermelon head, this wouldn’t be a problem. I asked questions. I raised a stink. I had second and third opinions.

And it came down to this: even though I was confident I could deliver you I couldn’t risk knowing that you might have a broken bone or worse afterward. I just couldn’t. I love you too much. So we scheduled the C-section for a few days later, which happened to be the day before your due date of Jan. 29.

The night before I was a nervous wreck. So excited to meet my baby, the one kicking inside me for all these months. So freaked out about being cut into. BEYOND freaked out, I won’t lie. I’ve never had a surgery before. I’ve never been admitted to a hospital before. FREAKED OUT. Your daddy took me out for dinner and movie. I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep afterward, but miraculously I did. Apparently “Little Fockers” isn’t the kind of movie that keeps one up to think deep thoughts.

As we pulled into the parking lot the next morning, Daddy’s car started smoking from under the hood. I was like, “Just park this (*&%^$@ car. We have a baby to deliver!” The parking attendant looked at us like we were crazy people, abandoning a car that at any second looked like it would burst into flames, but we were on a mission, and that mission didn’t include a trip to Jiffy Lube.

From there it went super fast. I got hooked up to monitors, poked and prodded with needles and IVs and before I knew it I was walking down the hall to the operating room. I paused for a moment before entering the door, tears streaming down my face. It was really happening! My baby was about to be born! Daddy waited outside while I got a spinal block. It didn’t hurt, but it’s hard to sit still when you feel a needle prodding your SPINAL CORD. After that, numbness. Then coldness. Then teeth-chattering coldness. They (there were at least 30 medical professionals, three mimes and a clown in that room) turn on some music. The curtain goes up. Your daddy sits next to me and holds my hand. What feels like 30 seconds later I feel tugging on my chest and I know you’re about to be born.

“Shoulder dystocia during a C-section?!” I hear my OB exclaim, apparently because you barely fit through the incision she made, but before I have time to worry I see you and hear you cry. You are perfect. You have an entire head full of dark hair (later we notice the light highlights). You are the most beautiful baby in the world. “And I Love Her” by The Beatles is playing when you are born.

Proud papa.

Your daddy follows you to get cleaned up and you grab ahold of his finger tightly and won’t let go. I wait a heart-wrenching 20 minutes to hold you while they work on both of us but I do not take my eyes off you for one second. I’m about to lose my mind as that stupid blood pressure cuff keeps strangling my right arm, the arm that wants to hold you. Finally you are placed on my chest and I kiss you and tell you I love you.