The happiest day of my life
Today is my second daughter's eighth birthday.
The day she was born was THE happiest day of my life. Not to say that the birthday's of my other two daughter's weren't happy or special, because they were. But I have an affinity for the birth of my second child.
I had a horrendous birth experience with my first daughter. I wasn't prepared enough for what was happening and I made choices that led me down the "intervention highway" of childbirth. I ended up with a very long 36 hour labor, over three hours of pushing and finally a cesarean birth. That was topped off with a weird rash that I developed all over my body, breastfeeding challenges, and a course of drugs (roids, Mrs. Pissy,) that fucked me up for months. Along with ALL of that, I was newly married to a man I hardly knew, had NO family support, and was very, very, very alone.
It majorly sucked.
When I became pregnant with my second child, I was thrilled. I had actually planned on getting pregnant, and after suffering a miscarriage, I quickly became pregnant again. It was really great. The pregnancy was pretty typical. I did have that fucked up triple screen test come back abnormal so I needed an amnio, but all of that was fine.
I was bound and determined to do EVERYTHING right this time and give myself the very best shot for a normal, un-medicated childbirth.
I won't bore you with ALL of the details.
I will tell you that I prepared myself mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally and was ready when it was time to have her. I hired a doula, I had my mom, my husband, I was set.
I went into labor and breezed through, no drugs, nothing. It was an incredibly empowering experience. I loved feeling what my body was doing.
I started pushing. I thought that pushing, and the urge to push was amazing. After a short while I became exasperated because nothing was happening. I had an epidural and was happy. The pushing continued.
And continued. And continued.
After two and a half hours of pushing; she hadn't moved. My husband and I decided that I just wasn't meant to have babies that way.
I got drugged up and had a cesarean birth again.
This time it was okay.
I felt so good about everything that I had tried and all that I had done to prepare for that experience. I KNEW that I had done everything in my power to give myself the best chance for a vaginal birth; it just wasn't going to happen for me.
When I heard her cry for the first time, I sobbed uncontrollably. She was taking the first breaths of her life and I looked over at her; I felt every ounce of emotion pour out of my body.
This child, whom I wanted so much, waited for, was here.
And she was perfect.
And beautiful.
And mine.
And now she's eight.
And sassy.
And beautiful.
And still mine.
I'm a lucky woman.
The day she was born was THE happiest day of my life. Not to say that the birthday's of my other two daughter's weren't happy or special, because they were. But I have an affinity for the birth of my second child.
I had a horrendous birth experience with my first daughter. I wasn't prepared enough for what was happening and I made choices that led me down the "intervention highway" of childbirth. I ended up with a very long 36 hour labor, over three hours of pushing and finally a cesarean birth. That was topped off with a weird rash that I developed all over my body, breastfeeding challenges, and a course of drugs (roids, Mrs. Pissy,) that fucked me up for months. Along with ALL of that, I was newly married to a man I hardly knew, had NO family support, and was very, very, very alone.
It majorly sucked.
When I became pregnant with my second child, I was thrilled. I had actually planned on getting pregnant, and after suffering a miscarriage, I quickly became pregnant again. It was really great. The pregnancy was pretty typical. I did have that fucked up triple screen test come back abnormal so I needed an amnio, but all of that was fine.
I was bound and determined to do EVERYTHING right this time and give myself the very best shot for a normal, un-medicated childbirth.
I won't bore you with ALL of the details.
I will tell you that I prepared myself mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally and was ready when it was time to have her. I hired a doula, I had my mom, my husband, I was set.
I went into labor and breezed through, no drugs, nothing. It was an incredibly empowering experience. I loved feeling what my body was doing.
I started pushing. I thought that pushing, and the urge to push was amazing. After a short while I became exasperated because nothing was happening. I had an epidural and was happy. The pushing continued.
And continued. And continued.
After two and a half hours of pushing; she hadn't moved. My husband and I decided that I just wasn't meant to have babies that way.
I got drugged up and had a cesarean birth again.
This time it was okay.
I felt so good about everything that I had tried and all that I had done to prepare for that experience. I KNEW that I had done everything in my power to give myself the best chance for a vaginal birth; it just wasn't going to happen for me.
When I heard her cry for the first time, I sobbed uncontrollably. She was taking the first breaths of her life and I looked over at her; I felt every ounce of emotion pour out of my body.
This child, whom I wanted so much, waited for, was here.
And she was perfect.
And beautiful.
And mine.
And now she's eight.
And sassy.
And beautiful.
And still mine.
I'm a lucky woman.
posted by Kathryn at
8:30 PM
3 Comments:
WOW, NO DRUGS!! *bow to your feet* I made it to 9 cms and I was TOAST!!
I completely understand about how you felt, my 1st was unplanned and a disaster at birth (C-section and he had to have surgery when he was 1 day old). The second was planned and very much wanted (yes, I did want my first also-but its 'different' when you plan it) and the experience was so much better
Happy Bday to your doughter!
Awww..damn..what a fucking fabulous story! Sorry about the ROIDS though! That sucks ass!
Happy Birthday to Lil' Miss #2~
I was very moved by your post, it brought back a lot of bitter sweet memories for me as well. We could have been married to the same asshole. Life is so unfair sometimes. I would not trade my first daughter for the world, only my first husband. At least I was lucky enough to have a wonderful best friend that was there for me every step of the way. She was there during my horrible 42 hours worth of labor when my husband was busy watching the football game or whatever else was on T.V.
He was an asshole.
Hope things are getting better for you now.
P
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