When my son was about 3 and a half, I was having some serious baby fever! I knew I wanted one more but convincing my husband was not easy. When Paolo was born (our first together), he would not go to his Father until he was about 2. He was so glued to me that he would have nothing to do with anyone but me and it was fairly hurtful to my husband. He was not sure he could go through that again. They were just now becoming little buddies and able to spend quality time together without me around. But as many of you know, those pangs are strong and they did not let up, and neither did I. I convinced him that this age gap would be perfect and I did not want to wait any longer. He agreed to agree to try but not try to get pregnant and we would go from there.
Well, it only took a few months of trying but not trying and we found out we were expecting. The telltale signs were unmistakable. With each child, I had immediate food aversions and could only eat cold things like yogurt, fruit, and cereal. It was watermelon with the first, pineapple with the 2nd and with this one it was cantaloupe. My husband brought me one home every day for almost 2 months! I knew this would be my last pregnancy and I decided to relish every minute of it! So by the time the sweet craving kicked in at 8 months, I wasn’t shy about having a chocolate sundae every night!
With my first pregnancy, I wanted to know the gender because I was so young and needed to prepare as much as possible. With the next pregnancy, my husband was so anxious to know since it was his first. This time I really wanted it to be a surprise since there are so few surprises in life. But…my husband was desperate to know if this might be a little girl and my 4yo wanted to know as well if he would be having a sister or a brother. So we found out and it was a boy! I was a bit relieved since I already had 2 and I grew up with 3 brothers. I just didn’t think I would know what to do with a girl. I realize now that this whole gender stuff was a bunch of bologna and overhyped but at the time it seemed important and lent a bit of peace to our family.
Since this would be my last, I was set on having a natural birth. And boy did I get what I wanted. My boys bought me an iPod nano and loaded it with all my favorite music. My Midwife said that I could labor in the tub at the hospital and I was so at ease with this idyllic fairytale idea, that I didn’t spend even a minute worrying about what natural labor would be like. I decided since I could not control when labor would start, that I work all the way up to labor day. I couldn’t wait for my body to tell me when it was time! I was secretly hoping that my water would break at work in front of all the doctors and the patients, but that didn’t happen with any of my kids. I guess some of us just want that last little bit of attention before baby comes 😉
It was September 26th, 2007. My husband is a musician and was at a show. It was late-evening and I was on the couch watching Knocked Up. Our two grey kitties were laying on the couch, one on each side of me. I suddenly started having contractions during the scene where Katherine Heigl goes into labor. They were strong and really caught me off guard. The cats were climbing all over me and kneeding me. It was annoying and made me feel even worse. I had to literally shove them off of me. The contractions were so strong and coming so fast and I was all alone with a sleeping son in the next room. I started crying and my hands were shaking so badly that I was essentially hitting myself in the face as I was wiping the tears away. I learned later that this was called transitional labor and meant that things were happening fast.
We had a birth plan in place with my neighbor who was going to stay with our son while we went to the hospital. I could not walk and crawled to my phone to call everyone but it was late and they were not answering and my husband was playing for a few more hours. Luckily he went on a break and saw my call and returned it right away. I got ahold of the neighbors and my husband pulled up as they arrived and my snoozing kiddo was none the wiser. I was shaking terribly and could barely walk or talk but we zipped off to the hospital which was luckily a 5 min drive.
When I arrived there was no hesitation and none of the usual questioning you get by the nurses who never seem to believe you. They got me checked in and in a room ASAP. Once again I was 6 cm and I begged to get in the tub. They got me in and I put on my music and tried so hard to relax. Trying hard is the problem. Our bodies don’t work like that. I cranked up the music and within 30 minutes my midwife bust through the door and exclaimed that I was making much different noises than I was when I first got in. She reached in to check me and announced to the nurses to get me out NOW. At this time, St. Vincent did not allow patients to birth in the tub and she said it was GO time.
They got me out, dried me off and we tried some verticle birthing positions that were awkward and I was not having it. I wanted to lie down, even if it was actually counterproductive. My oldest, who was now 13, had decided that he did not want to be in the room with me for this one. However, he just couldn’t leave his mama, especially knowing that I was suffering. He decided to stay up by my side and avoid the gore and just hold my hand. The contractions were so strong and I was SO scared. Sadly I accidentally squeezed his hand too hard but he held strong for a few of them and when I realized what I had done I felt so bad! I know he wanted to be supportive but I did not want to hurt him.
Fighting your body is the worst thing you can do and unfortunately for me, that is what I ended up doing because of fear and fear alone. I could not incorporate the coping skills that I had learned. I could not mentally conquer or relinquish the pain. Each time a contraction started I would scream and as soon as it ended I would apologize over and over again for screaming until the next one came and then I would scream again. I learned the best trick that I have applied to my parenting repertoire in those moments. My midwife kept a cool washcloth on my forehead but it would get warm quickly. Like an eagle saint, she would swoop in, grab the washcloth, swing it around in the air like a lasso, and just like that…it was cold again. GENIUS!
It was now time to push. The moment I had been waiting for! The first two kiddos I had pushed only a few times. Boy was I in for a surprise. I pushed for over an hour with this kiddo. I heard, “Keep pushing, he’s right there” a million times. Finally, I responded in a defeated tear-filled voice, “Is he really right there? Or are you just trying to make me feel good? Cause you have said that so many times!” I remember that I could not seem to get my legs pulled back far enough. I kept asking my husband to hold my legs back. He just wasn’t doing it right. I finally grabbed my legs and pulled them back as far as humanly possible. A few more really big pushes and he was finally here! He was absolutely beautiful and even though he weighed the same as his oldest brother, he was just more solid. I suppose when you are 3 inches shorter in length, that’ll do it.
The most magical thing about natural labor is that as soon as the baby is born, the pain stops. Getting them out is the solution to the pain. You are literally back to normal after that. And actually even better than normal. The feeling that floods through you after they are born is the best feeling I have ever felt. I remember feeling so invincible. Too invincible. I got up to use the restroom and crumpled to the floor. My legs wouldn’t work! Not because of having a baby but because I had pulled my legs back so far for so long that I had overextended and torn some of the muscles. Oops! I was wobbly for a while because of that but otherwise, I felt great! I even had some new cute red freckles on my checks (from pushing so hard!).
We had given Paolo, the 4yo, a baby doll as a special gift, so he could have his own baby. After we were all settled and cleaned up he was able to meet his baby brother. He had his baby with him too and we got to leave the hospital together, and we each had a baby. He was so loving and understanding and paid attention to each little sound his brother made. I firmly believe this is the best age gap ever. They had a lot of alone time with their parents before baby arrived, they understand needs and care, they know that mom needs to tend to those needs and they can do so many things that baby can’t and they see the benefit in that. Besides, most 4-year-olds do not feel the need to revert to being a baby like a younger sibling would, because…yeah…diapers and bottles are not appealing in any way! Ha!
This was going to be my last child and I cherished every moment of that infant stage. I didn’t get flustered or overwhelmed. I loved when he fell asleep on me and I could not move for hours, when he nursed a bit too long, when he laughed and cooed, his little whimper cries that never got too loud, and even his little poops! It was all so exciting and enjoyable knowing it was going to be the last time. Or was it…
