Being Emma’s 4th birthday today, I am feeling somewhat nostalgic about the day she arrived into our little family. My mind flashes back to that little pink thing they laid in my arms and then declared that I was a mother. My life changed dramatically from that moment on.
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When I was pregnant with Emma, I had decided to jump on the natural childbirth band wagon. Thinking that I was tough and all natural, it was right up my alley. My sister had supplied me with books and magazines to read and I was getting pretty excited about it. I didn’t bother taking any child birth classes but I got a Bradly book from the library and tried to get Jer to read it. I had made the decision to go naturally because I felt that if I did actually make the decision instead of a “wait and see” attitude I might not make it.
So time went on and I had a very healthy pregnancy. I was very active. Jer and I were still rock climbing until I could fit in my harness anymore. I was walking my dog regularly and felt at time got closer that I would be ready and it would be sooner then later.
Being, obviously, inexperienced, we had picked just some random OBGYN near our house. The office had a midwife so I felt comfortable with that even though it wasn’t guaranteed that she’d the the one attending the birth.
Our friends had just started up a 3D baby sonogram place. They let us go for free at 30 weeks and see the squishy round baby face of our soon to come little girl. The sonographer informed us that the baby was breech and that they often turn around so not to worry.
At my next appointment with my midwife, I asked her what position the baby was in. She said it was head down and I asked her to double check. Yup, she was still breech. I started to panic but she said there was still time and told me to do all those upside down exercises.
I did. They made me sick. But I still did them… every night. I’d kneel in bed with my bum up in the air, my head down on the bed and quite often jer shinning lights, playing music and talking, yes, to my bum. I’d pray super hard too. She didn’t turn.
We tried external inversion or whatever it is called and that didn’t work. Her heart rate dropped so they stopped trying. I was so sad. My hopes of a natural birth were fleeing away.
The time got closer and my midwife wanted to schedule a C section around 38 weeks. We reluctantly did but we wanted to get the baby at much time as possible to turn around on her own. She suggested that one of the doctors perform the surgery. He was the best and would stitch me up real nice. We tried to talk to the doctor about pushing the date back but he was upset at us for being so foolish. He said he’d been in enough emergency C sections when S*** had hit the fan and he wasn’t going to do it again when he didn’t have to. Yes, very professional, I know.
So we were at a loss of what to do. We called around trying to find someone who would work with us. Everyone said no. We found one Amish midwife in Pennsylvania that would deliver a breech baby but that was a 3 hour drive from our house in MD.
So after a lot of prayer, we (or should I say Jeremy (because at this point I was in a state of totally disarray) decided that the best thing to do was to go ahead and have the C section. Up to the very morning I was still hoping and praying that she’d turn on her own.
She didn’t. We went to the hospital that morning and prepped for surgery. I, at least, decided to forget about being disappointed and was anxious enough just to become a mother.
I had an epidural. It made me sick and I vomited all over the nurses hand. For some reason it was also difficult to breathe but at least I was numb. I asked the anesthesiologist’s if it was normal and he said it was just my reaction to the epidural. It didn’t help though when the Dr was pushing on my stomach so hard to get the baby out. Apparently, Emma’s head was a little bit stuck. I could see the beads of sweat dripping down the dr’s face. He got a little bit nervous and told the midwife in a harsh voice to put her hands “here!” I watched with a little mirror and Jer tried to record the birth with the video tape until she got to nauseated to watch.
Aug 6th at 8:19 am she was born. She came out feet first. Crying. They sewed me up.
Her blood sugar was a little low so they rushed her off the nursery. I held her for about 30 seconds as the wheeled me down the hall to recovery.
I didn’t get her back for a few hours. By then, she wasn’t hungry because they’d given her sugar water. Thus, I had a hard time getting her to eat but we eventually got it.
She had dark long hair and dark eyes. 8lbs even. We didn’t name her for a few days. Obvisously, I can’t make decisions, especially when they are big ones. Jeremy named her Emma and I said okay but her middle name will be Jane.
She turned out to be pretty fussy baby. We almost went insane. She’d cry inconsolably for hours. We’d walk the dark streets at night and take long warm baths. Up until 6 months did things start to improve. I always felt a little resentful, like they had taken her before she was ready to come out and that is why she was so fussy.
She’s a fun bubbly little girl now. She has a flare for performing and being dramatic. We sure love her.
Happy Birthday Emma!