“I think I’m pregnant.” The comment hung in the air like a cartoon thought, a white fluffy cloud of what? “I’m pregnant.” I repeated with more conviction after allowing the pause to become pregnant itself. Aaron was lying on the bed watching television when I burst onto the scene with my news. I’m not sure how I expected him to act as we were only half trying to have a baby, the Russian Roulette method and I don’t think either of us were thinking it would happen so soon.
“Are you sure? Because a minute ago you said you thought you were pregnant; there is a difference.” Aaron looked at me blankly; not void of emotion, but rather terrified or confused or like he ate bad Chinese food.
“I’m pretty sure.” I looked at him waiting for the response I wanted. Perhaps this was slightly unfair because I was so confused about how I felt about it too. Maybe I thought that if he could be thrilled about it, I wouldn’t be so afraid.
“Hold on a second…” and with a pause, he flew down the stairs and out the door only to return home half an hour later with a goody bag of different pregnancy tests. “I even got one in Spanish, just in case.” As he continued to empty the CVS bag onto to the bed, I glanced at him both smiling and shaking my head.
“How is finding out in Spanish going to change the plus or minus sign?”
“Just go take another one so we can be sure.” He was quite serious as he stood bedside holding a box out to me. “Try again, please.”
“Okay if you say so…” Three minutes later, in Spanish, it was confirmed yet again that I was in fact pregnant. “Well?” I questioned, again waiting for some kind of emotional outpouring.
“This is great. We’re having a baby.” Aaron still looked terrified, but now for my sake, he was at least trying to look excited. It must have been hard for him though because he did lose a couple of shades of color and I’m even sure that I witnessed a few strands of hair turn silver in that instant.
Quickly I walked from the bathroom to the bedroom and scooped up the phone. My mother was going to be ecstatic, I thought; she’s wanted grandchildren since I was born. As I was dialing the number I was trying to come up with something clever to say…Ring, Ring, Ring… is she ever going to answer the phone? Damn call waiting, pick up the phone!
“Hello. What’s up?” My mom, cheerful as usual, greeted me almost suspecting the news which certainly took some of the steam out of telling her.
“Guess what…” I started.
“Are we having a baby?” She questioned, not even giving me a chance to share the good news with her myself. You have to understand that this is the way almost every conversation started ever since I had been married for a few months. I suppose she felt that eventually she would be right or at least she had hoped.
“Suddenly it’s we!” I shot back. There went my moment of surprise and wit drowned by sarcasm. I guess it didn’t matter anyway seeing as my mom is psychic and the pregnant vibration was probably lingering over me before I even knew like low tide by the shore.
“I knew it… you are going to have a girl. I already started buying my little girl some things.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, mom. I need to make an appointment with the doctor and once it’s confirmed we can get more excited.” I’m not quite sure why I was so reluctant to celebrate, but suddenly I was worried. What if I tell a lot of people and I lose the baby? What if this affects my ability to get a new job? Suddenly I was charged with keeping a big secret and an even bigger challenge was to make sure that my mom could keep it too. I mean, let’s face, she was going to be a grandmother, the moment she had been waiting for her whole life.
That night as was lying in bed, completely unable to sleep, the fear that was evident on Aaron’s face was creeping into my consciousness. What if I lose the baby? What if the labor is terrible? What if I’m a bad mother? What if, I mean how is this going to change everything? What it I’m not ready to be a mommy? I’m not sure I’ve ever really doubted my ability in anything I’ve set out to do, but suddenly I was panicking about a baby who wasn’t even close to here yet. All of a sudden I felt trapped and angry that my life was over. I began to think of the many irresponsible things I’ve done in my life and even recently. How was I going to pull this together? Were Aaron and I even ready for this kind of adjustment in our marriage?
These thoughts and others tore me up for most of the night and I am sorry to report, that they didn’t end right away. Even after the doctor had confirmed it and I made my first OB appointment (which ironically was scheduled for my 1 year anniversary), I still questioned my feelings about the amazing time in my life. I reminded myself that many women can’t even have children and I should be grateful for such an opportunity. Motherhood is what we are all supposed to be raised for, right? Why did I feel so unsure of myself then? Am I even old enough to be a mom?
A few months before while I was at a conference for English teachers in Indianapolis, one of my best friends got this glorious news as well, so she became my beacon of knowledge. She was a few months ahead of me, and I was so excited for her when I found out she was pregnant. I was still reluctant, however, to admit my trepidation about my joyous news, even to one of my closest and oldest friends. I was ashamed of feeling so nervous and unsure.
My first trimester was wrought with mixed emotions. I had terrible morning sickness, extreme sensitivity to smells and I couldn’t tell anyone around me at work; although there was speculation. I was in transition between jobs and being pregnant could be something that could hinder my ability to find gainful employment. We all know it’s not supposed to, but it would be hard to convince any employer to hire someone who three months after they started, would need to take at least 8 weeks off. So I just kept the news to myself, slowly leaking it out like a pinhole in balloon; one person at a time, with a hushed finger in front of my mouth. It certainly was a big secret. Fortunately I didn’t really start to show until I was about 5-6 months along and by that time it wasn’t a secret anymore: I had found a job and I was saying goodbye to everyone at my old job. I extra emotional about some of my first students graduating and everyone was happy for me.
My second and third trimesters flew by in the blink of an eye and once the hormones balances out, I was loving being pregnant (with the exception of strangers feeling the need to touch me). I was the healthiest I’ve ever been, getting sleep and eating right. I was fortunate not to gain too much weight and worked up until almost the instant I gave birth.
It was parent teacher conference night at school and I had conjured the strength to ask for the night off because I was on my feet all day and in my 8th month. No one had a problem with it because I would be present for the day time conferences the following day and I alerted the parents to my known absence prior to their arrival. I waved goodbye to my co-workers right after classes ended and went home like any other day. I wasn’t due for another couple of weeks.
So it’s rare they told me for first time pregnancies to be early, was it… well they were wrong. At 1:30 in the morning of November 22, 2005 I was awakened by dampness. No one tells you that when your water breaks that the flood just keeps coming… and boy did it. I ran to the bathroom and screamed for my husband to wake up. “Aaron, I think it’s time. Call the doctor.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just pee yourself?” His sensitivity in his half awake state was overwhelming.
“Yes, I’m sure it’s not that. I think I would know. I have no control over this… I’m leaking. Call the doctor.” My anxiety was beginning to grow, but not as much as I would have thought.
“We have to go to the hospital and enter through the back exit. Our doctor said she would meet us once you are admitted.” Aaron’s ability to make believe that this was all a dream was quickly ending and he was very supportive making sure I had everything I needed. “How are you doing?”
“I’m wet. Let’s just get going.” I was wearing his pants and had a dish towel swimming around in them trying to soak up the flood. I’m pretty sure that Noah, his arc and all of the animals could have swam through this puddle.
Once I arrived at the hospital I was quickly asked to change out of my clothes and it was confirmed that the fluid was amniotic fluid. It was happening and on my brother’s birthday two weeks early. “I don’t want any drugs. I want to do this naturally.” I don’t know what I was thinking.
“Really? We don’t get many women opting to do that anymore,” my nurse Anthony replied. “It is your choice though. Just realize that you can change your mind up until a certain time period.”
“I won’t. I want my baby to come into this world drug free.”
As those words were lingering in the air, several hours later I was singing a different tune. “Is it too late? Is it too late? I want an epidural. Get me some drugs.” The urgency in my request I’m sure was not uncommon especially for us deluded types who think we can do it without help. Aaron watch the contractions on my monitor increase and listen as my quiet little moans became more evident. There was no screaming like in the movies. No cursing or blaming. Just soft moans marking the beginning and end of some of the more intense contractions until it was time to push; and push I did even if we didn’t know at this point that my little baby boy was ass backwards.
“How far along are we?” The doctor on call came to check on me after I had been pushing with the birthing nurse for about an hour. She looked concerned. “Can someone get me a sonogram machine ASAP?” I looked at Aaron.
“What’s going on?” I looked confused.
The machine came in stat and it was confirmed that Logan was entering this world the wrong way. He was driving the wrong way down a one way street and that beautiful bald head the nurse reported on earlier was in fact his beautiful soft butt. “Here are your options: 1. Continue with a vaginal birth and there is a chance your uterus will close on the baby’s neck. This option is safer for you. 2. Have an emergency section. This is safer for the baby, but more dangerous for you given how far down your canal he his. You have 3 minutes to make a decision. I’ll come back.” So resolute and short. No emotion, just information. I suppose that was the safest way to be.
“So?” I looked at Aaron; the terror was in his eyes. “There is no choice. I go for the section. I’m healthy; I will make it out of this okay. I’m worried about our baby.” I was crying I’m sure, but I don’t really remember.
“Okay,” Aaron replied holding my hand, his eyes sharing the horror that his mouth wouldn’t say.
He wanted me to be safe; I was more concerned about the baby. The doctor came back in with the anesthesiologist in tow.
It gets kind of foggy from here because there were many drugs administered. “Let me know if you can feel this,” I anesthesiologist asked repeatedly until I was no longer complaining of discomfort. The doctors got to work quickly. I held Aaron’s hand and watched his face, until it started hurting and they were pulling my body all over the place. I could only see shadows through the curtain separating the doctors from me and then there was darkness.
I wasn’t awakened to cries and I was worried. Aaron was holding my little Logan Max and his eyes were looking right back at me, wide round black eyes. He almost looked like an alien in a little blue and pink striped hat. 5 pounds 14 ounces. 20 inches long. He’s healthy and I’m okay. No fair, I thought, Why did Aaron get to hold our son first?
When I was wheeled into my recovery room, Aaron went to tell our parents what had happened. “She’s okay.” I imagine he told them. I was greeted an hour later in my room with the most beautiful baby boy. My family was overwhelmed with joy and in that one instant, my whole life changed. Suddenly I didn’t care so much about anything that wasn’t for my son.
Now that over a year has passed, I can say that motherhood suits me. I had no idea of my own capacity for strength and selflessness. I had spent so much of my life consumed with what I wanted that I never realized how much I wouldn’t care once my son was born. I feared not knowing how to care for him or how to love him, but that came without trying. The unconditional love that existed lived within me already waiting for a chance to show through. It’s that one speck of strength that a person hopes is there, but isn’t ever tapped into until it has to be. Motherhood is everything in one: happiness, sadness, love, strength, pride and love. Logan is my heart (and it’s a good thing because I know that there will be many moments when it won’t feel so easy to be forgiving… like when he bites my face or sticks metal objects in an electrical outlet… or stays out all night). Man do I have a greater respect for my own mom now!
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