Letting Go
The Birth of Ryan Christopher
I found out I was pregnant on the day of my son’s second birthday party. I mentioned to my best friend that I had been feeling sick. She told me to take a pregnancy test. I thought, “Why? I am still nursing, I don’t have a period…”
The little blue lines staring up at me were a wake-up call. I called my midwife before I told my husband Chris. She calmed me down and told me they would take me on as a returning client. She said to relax and enjoy Keenan’s birthday party.
I couldn’t really relax. I was buzzing. I had just agreed to take on a new business venture with my friend. I had no idea just how pregnant I was. She assured me that we would run the business, and it would work out great.
Fast forward to my ultrasound two weeks later to figure out the due date, which I thought would be about eight months away. Turned out I was actually already close to 13 weeks pregnant. I had skipped the whole first trimester, without even knowing it.
I had supreme mother guilt. Not only did I have a thyroid condition, a dairy allergy, and a tendency to stress myself out, I was also still nursing my two year old. I had just taken a holiday and drank copious amounts of alcohol (well maybe closer to three cosmos) and used the hot tub.
I was devastated. I felt like a horrible mother. With my first son I had taken prenatal vitamins, done yoga, attended childbirth classes; the whole thing. For this pregnancy I missed the whole first trimester.
I worried and worried. Luba, my new midwife, kept trying to reassure me. I did listen to her…somewhat. I just couldn’t help wondering if I would carry this baby to term. I would stay up all night sometimes wishing I had done better.
I started pushing the idea of even having the baby out of my head. I knew I was pregnant, but convinced myself that I was not as pregnant as I actually was. I kept going. I weaned my son from my breast and my bed. I still worked as hard as ever on all other aspects of my life.
I kept thinking, “This baby isn’t going to come until February!” My body kept giving me other signs.
I booked prenatal photographs for the morning of December 4, 2007. When I woke up I felt cramps and had a lot of Braxton Hicks. We headed over and did the shoot. A couple of times the photographer asked if I was okay because I seemed to grimace in a couple of the poses. I assured her it was fine and that it was just Braxton Hicks.
Chris started timing them and found they were seven minutes apart, like clockwork. Our photographer said, “I think you may be in labour. You should call your midwife.” I brushed it off. It’s too early, I thought, “It’s just false labour.”
We promised to call when I got home just to be on the safe side. I convinced Chris to stop at Babes In Arms before we went home because we were so close. My girlfriends own the store and they were both there when I walked in. I was busy chatting with them about baby carriers and prenatal pictures when I had to stop and breathe. They were both really concerned.
“Are you in labour?” my friend asked. I said, “No, I’m just having really consistent Braxton Hicks. “How consistent?” my other friend asked. “About six minutes apart.” They both yelled at me to go home and call my midwife, so I left to go home and told them I would let them know.
I still didn’t believe I was in labour. But we went home and Chris called the midwives anyway. I had a fast labour with my first, so the midwives, Luba and Maura, decided to come over to check on me right away. When they arrived, I was still having contractions every six minutes. The midwife checked me and I was about four centimeters dilated.
So the waiting game began. I answered all my work emails letting people know I would be out of commission for a while, still not really cluing in that this baby was coming. We had lunch, dinner, and my mother and mother-in-law arrived. I put Keenan to bed.
The midwives thought that maybe I would kick into high gear after he went to bed. I was still fighting it. Centimeter by centimeter my body was fighting against my mind. “I am not going to have this baby today! It’s too early. I am not ready.”
The midwives stripped my membranes and broke my water, and still I made no real progress. I had tinctures and snacks and we were still stalled. Maura came up and told me, very matter of factly, that I WAS going to have this baby, and that it was only going to happen when I wanted it to.
I asked her if I could have a nap for a while. She said yes, but after that we had to decide what we were going to do. I slept for about 40 minutes, with contractions coming every five or so. I woke up to Maura saying it was almost time. She said I was over seven and a half centimeters. She was going to go downstairs and get the rest of the team. It was past midnight.
Chris, my mom and I sat alone in the room. “I don’t want to do this again.” I cried. “It hurts.” Chris laughed, “Well, you can’t really go back now honey!”
My mom said, “It’s pain with purpose. Remember what it is at the end of this journey; a beautiful baby boy. Ryan is coming sweetie, he is coming.”
I cried, “I am not ready for him. I am scared. I don’t know how to be the mom of two. What if I suck?” My husband looked at me, “You are the best mom to Keenan, and you will be an awesome mom to Ryan. I love you.”
I hugged him fiercely and gave in to my body. The contractions came on hard and fast; one after another and another. My mom scrambled to call the midwives in. My mother-in-law rushed in with them.
After two more contractions I was pushing, and it took less than 15 minutes for Ryan to clear the birth canal, and for Maura to say, “There he is; grab on to your baby! Reach down and pull him out!”
I grabbed hold of Ryan under his arms and pulled him onto my chest. I finally realized how much I wanted this little baby and just how perfect he was. Like the ever so patient little boy he has turned out to be, Ryan just had to wait a little while longer for me to figure it out.
