One year ago today, I was coming home from the hospital, incredibly disappointed that our induction hadn’t taken. I had been sooo excited, forgetting the norm and concentrating on “what happened last time” where I was induced and laboring hard twenty minutes later. I was so sad to have left the hospital still without my baby girl. Not because I was frustrated with being overdue, but more so because I had expectations. Rose-colored expectations that today was the day. At this exact time, I was coming home, and I was really disappointed.
I sat in bed, blogging, trying to remind myself that it was normal for a woman to go back to be re-induced the next day. Sometimes it was even a couple of days! I was trying to be positive, knowing that my doctor was on call that very next day, and how wonderful would that be for her to be able to deliver the bundle we had all anticipated together. I tried so hard to be optimistic. But I was bummed.
How would I know that just a few short hours later, labor would hit without warning, sending us into what proved to be the scariest hour of my entire life? God knew. I didn’t. I’ve reread Laela’s birth story many times, and reading it recently, I’ve wanted to clarify a thing or two.
When I said that I was screaming for pain medicine, and accusing people of not trying to help me, this is the truth: Through my whole drive to the hospital, I had never once considered that I was about to deliver. I was not in denial. I did not know. I knew I was in pain, and that labor is painful. I knew that I had been induced, and that commonly makes contractions harder and closer together. My assumption was that I was a solid six or seven centimetres, and that they would be able to take out my induction and that everything would slow down. I did not know I was ready to deliver.
See what I said there? I didn’t know I was ready to deliver. But I was. Who knew?! God knew. I didn’t.
If you don’t already know, Brady and I have plans for quite a large family. Literally moments after I delivered Dekker, I was completely invigorated and couldn’t wait to have another. After Laela’s delivery, I cried and told Brady I didn’t know if I could ever have more. Brady supported me and said we didn’t have to even think about it for a long, long time. Obviously, pregnant with my third very much on purpose, I overcame my fears and was thrilled to get pregnant again. But it took time.
Tonight, I snuck away to change Laela’s diaper before bed, just me and her. I was talking with her and telling her how much I loved her, and couldn’t believe she had been here for a whole year. The boys entered, and Dekker started his nightly whine-fest that is bedtime. So unlike normal, I took Laela out and we walked the house a bit. I talked to her about her birth a bit, and told her I was sooo scared, and that I thought maybe she was the last baby I was ever meant to have. But that she just amazed me beyond words and was completely worth the fear and pain and confusion of that ridiculous hour of my life. I was tucked into her neck (I know, backwards, right?) and I heard myself say “I wouldn’t change your birth for the world.” And then I cried, because its true. While this doesn’t mean I hope to deliver that way again (Please Lord) she certainly came into the world exactly like the little girl she is – a go getter. She was ready and came with a vengeance. That is exactly who she is. And strangely, I think I am better because of it.
I was scared today would be a weird day of mourning, but instead, I found myself thinking about what we’ve done the last year rather than how it started. We have had a loaded year, and she has just been incredible through it all. I adore my Miss Laela Hazel and all that she brings to the table. I can’t wait to celebrate her again tomorrow 🙂
Worth it. Worth every second.