The Almighty Birth Story

If you hang with a group of ladies long enough, the conversation often turns to our birth stories. It makes sense, as birthing a baby is no small feat … ya know, that whole pushing a watermelon through a hole the size of a pea thing. C-sections are no less gruesome, unless you think having someone take out your innards and set them on top of you is the stuff of everyday life. We tell our war stories with pride, as every single story is unique. All the challenges are different. The delivery times are like snowflakes, as no two seem to be the same. Some people take drugs (hell, yes) while others are crazy (kidding!). Mine is interesting in that I was induced and was only a fingertip dilated, so they blew up a balloon inside my cervix. You think I’m joking but I am not. This was no joke, people! I have never, ever heard of another person doing this, so I’m convinced I was some sort of birthing guinea pig. To put it mildly, the balloon part hurt like someone searing your nether regions with an iron that had been in a fire for about three years.

Due to the epidural, however, the rest of it was about as pleasant a day I’ve had in a long time. I got to read magazines and watch endless TV shows until my first little man made his debut. I was working full time then, so a day of rest like this was pretty damn awesome. I got so distracted by the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy that I seriously think I forgot why I was there … that is, until a nurse came in and announced that I was fully dilated and ready to go.

“Hold on,” I wanted to scream. “But I’m not ready!”

Nine months of complaining about the swollen feet, hemorrhoids, and the sick, sadistic hiatus from wine had finally come to an end and all of a sudden I had never been more certain of one thing. I WASN’T READY.

Within one minute, I had so many thoughts that were so hard to process:

I can barely take care of myself. I don’t even know how to fold a fitted sheet. How am I supposed to take care of another human being?

This is really going to hurt.

Oh shit, I’m not ready for the pain.

I’m not ready for this baby.

Make it stay in. Someone; make it stay in there! This poor baby deserves a mama who’s ready!

This is where my mother came in like the pro she is. I turned to her and, with tears in my eyes, I told her all my fears in a frantic plume of verbal air diarrhea.

“I’m not ready, Mom,” was what I said in the end.

“No one’s ever ready, honey,” she said. “But you just go with it. And you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

She gave my hand a squeeze and, with that, I knew it was all going to be okay. This guy or gal was coming, whether I was ready or not. After about an hour of pushing and hyperventilating and telling me husband to get the f*ck away from me (so cliche, but I really did say this), he came.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor announced, telling us later she was thrown off by the long eyelashes. “It’s a boy,” she quickly corrected herself, before cutting the umbilical cord and placing this beautiful being on my chest. As every mom can likely attest to, this is a moment that will never be matched by anything else that happens in your life. Never! In that one moment, you fall in love fully and completely and you know with every fiber of your being that you would lay down your life for his.

The story may change as you explain it to him on his birthday from year to year, as you recall different things and forget other details but one thing always stay the same – this is the day your life was forever changed for the better. This is the day you got the all-important title of “MOM”.

me_finn birth

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