Life’s New Arrival

Our appointment for the c-section was for 10:00AM but they advised us to be there for 8:00 and to report to triage and be prepped for the surgery.  We got there right on time with my Nininne in tow (as she spent the night at our home so as to be on time in the AM).  Once we got to Triage we got the message a few times that there were a few emergencies that came through and that all scheduled appointments were unfortunately pushed back.  So the first nurse we spoke to told us we could go downstairs and (everyone else) could eat and come back around 9.  Which we did.  Got back to Triage at 9AM and they started strapping me up with all the accoutrements of prep – baby monitor, IV line, hospital braceletes, designer open to the back gown, mesh cap for my hair, footie socks with grips – the whole kit and kaboodle.   And then… we waited.  Between Earl and Nininnie and Cora they switched shifts on who could be in the room with me at the same time (they only “allowed” one at a time but we broke the rules when they weren’t looking).  We spent the time just chatting and talking about the very near future (when we would meet this little cherub that was steadily kicking my baby monitors off of her booty or arm or wherever they were that she didn’t like them).  More people came in to talk to us… More emergencies were lined up before the appointment folks.  But I was assured that as soon as they had an opening for an appointment person – I was first up.  At around 12:30 they started to make moves to get me into the operating room.  They told Earl to go dress up so that he could be in the room with me.

I got to the room and everything was bright and white and there were some anesthesiologists there waiting for me so that they could perform the epidural.  They cued up Billy Joel’s Greatest hits and I sang along to “My Life” and “Piano Man” as they tapped on my back and asked me if that felt central or off to the side…  Constantly realigning my back (because of how long it was taking i’d slump to one side or the other).  Finally they started administering the medicine and I felt tingling going down my legs.  It got very hard to move and feel them so they laid me out and started prepping me for everything.  They put the blue curtain up so that I wouldnt’ be able to see what they were doing.  I never expected it to be so close to my face though.  They I felt them touching me on my abdomen.  And they would ask “Do you feel anything, Victoria?”  and I said “Yes, I feel you touching me… but that’s it.”  There was a giddy 3rd year medical student who was invited to watch the c-section in the room with me and by my head giving me encouragement.  She assured me that everything was alright and that soon I’d feel tugging and pulling and that was all normal.   Admittedly, at this point, I started to get really nervous.  Were they cutting me already?  Where was Earl?  Oh Gosh… this is really happening.  The anesthesia – although localized – really was affecting all of me.  I felt dizzy and nauseous at times and overall, I was fighting the desire to just sleep.  The door to the OR opened and in came my Earl who was rushed to my side.  I felt so much better seeing him because I was really starting to get scared – I began to cry when I saw him.  And he held my hand and assured me that everything was alright but that they’d already started cutting me.  I said “you saw that???” and he said, “Yeah… I walked right past it.”  GEEZ.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity… but I know it was only a few minutes because of the huge clock that was on the wall directly in my line of sight. All the big action happened between 1:12 and 1:25.  There was talk of suction not being strong enough…  Wait… there’s scar tissue here….  Okay… have we made it through that layer yet?…. More suction.   All the while the numbed poking and prodding was felt by me the entire time.  When would be this profound pulling and tugging I read about and that they assured me I would feel?  When would this baby be delivered?  GOSH I was tired… I just wanted to close my eyes, but I want to be awake when she gets here.  “Stay with me,” Earl encouraged as often as he could.  At 1:25 they announced, ” okay… here we go”… I felt one good tug and there was a flurry of action off to my left.  Then I heard it:  Her first shrill little cry and gasp!!  My baby was here!!!  Well, over there, but here in the world!  She cried and cried as they cleaned and weighed and poked and prodded her… then finally placed her swaddled body in Earl’s arms where she PROMPTLY stopped crying.  She was peaceful and quiet and BEAUTIFUL!    So plump and perfect…  My baby was here in the world… with me.  We took a few photos (thankfully) to commemorate the moment and of course – we couldn’t dwell on it all.   They had to rush her for more tests and more preparation and of course – they had to now sew up the gaping hole that was my abdomen.  They whisked her and Earl away and then it was just me again for a long while.  Getting sewn up.  In recovery (for an inordinate amount of time).  Then finally to my room 5 hours later where I could gaze upon my cherub goddess again.  And I haven’t stopped yet.

*

9 Months.

It’s really funny how all your life through media and family and every other source you hear that pregnancy is a 9-month event. But only when you’re pregnant do you get corrected to understand that it’s anywhere from that to a 10 1/2 month event.  42 weeks is an all the way full term baby.  And 38 weeks is the minimum for being considered a non-premie.    But all through life – you hear “9 months”.  Here I am at that point.

This entire experience has been so humbling.  I’m surprised and honored to have made it this far when there were so many things telling me that it wouldn’t happen.   But against all the odds – here I stand.  I keep saying it … it’s my way of thanking God.  All my life I’ve believed that fear and faith can’t inhabit the same body and so I would ultimately cho0se Faith and wait on the Lord.  I can’t say that He’s ever let me down.  He’s NEVER given me more than I could handle.  And if that was the case, he surrounded me with people to prop me up till I could get it together.  I have no reason to doubt or question him now.  And yet the fear of what’s to come in a few weeks has begun to envelope my mind.  The “What-Ifs” have converged to make me doubt all that I thought I knew.  Potentially by next week… my whole life will have changed in a way that I can NEVER come back from.  NO matter what happens – I will have gestated and birthed a child of my own…  I will be a Mother.  Blessed Vessel to deliver a new life into the world.  This is the change life SHOULD take.  What I’d been waiting for  - for what seems to be a life time, considering in my 16 year old life plan, this was supposed to take place when I was 22… I only missed the mark by 14 years.  What else would I be doing with my life at this point if I wasn’t pregnant?  No… this is where I should be.

So why am I so scared?  I’ll be in charge of a whole other human life.  For her care, nurturing, cleaning, loving, teaching, handling, well being, sense of self, family and purpose.  What if I screw it all up?  I wish my mom was here to ask questions.  She did SO MUCH with so little.   In my humble opinion, she did an amazing job and I’d love to pick her brain about the minutiae now – how to stop a colicky baby from crying;  what are some old school Haitian remedies for diaper rash;  how to hold the baby so that she doesn’t spit up;   what secrets are there to avoid blowouts…. (even though, I remember her telling me the story of her first blow out experience with Dominic.  She thought the poor boy exploded in his crib over night…. and the story of how she cried on the train on her way back to work because she didn’t want to leave her newborn baby son.)

So maybe even the best of moms… don’t always know what to do.  But they always end up doing what they feel is best.

I worry that she won’t like me… or not latch on, or have some kind of developmental issue – all that could have been avoided if I did something different.

But this is the one time in my life where everything I did got me to 9 months.

I emptied my head of the “What Ifs” to Earl last night and he fired back with a few of his.  As confident and as steadfast as he’s been, he listed them without hesitation.  And I looked at him and thought… as long as we’re both in this together, I guess it can’t be so bad… or so frightening that we can’t lean on each other to figure it out.  Jenny assured us that between her and Mo and my MIL and countless sisters… there’s no way for me to feel that I don’t have a support system.  Now I just have to trust what I’ve always trusted.

Peace out, Fear.

If there was no room for you in this body because Faith was already there… there’s even LESS space now that I’ve made room for my baby too.  I’m sure you’ll peek your head up again soon, but you’re never ever welcome and I will NOT make a way for you.

*

Lessons…

Little one?

I’ll just teach you to validate yourself.  And let that be the priority to you always.  No one else’s say so … should say so.

that alone will free you from many of the shackles I’ve already worn.

*

Worthiness / Creating the Pull

A conversation held between me and the hubby the other day:

Him: The baby is going to LOVE you.
Me: You think so??
Him: HECK Yeah!
Me:  *screwface*  I mean… what makes you say that?
Him: Well…  did you love YOUR mom?
Me:  Are you kidding?  LOVE her?  I worshipped her.  She was my idol.  There was no woman prettier, smarter, more amazing or kinder in the world.  She was everything.
Him: *”i told you” so look on his face* – well. There you have it.

The verbal conversation stopped there, but in my mind, I responded – but… all that my mom did… she fully deserved that love and admiration from me, my brother and anyone else who crossed her path.  The selflessness.  The sacrifices.  They were all apparant to me all my life.  What will I have done – outside of the surgeries and procedures to GET me pregnant (which might seem … well… self serving from a given angle) that will match that kind of angel-like behaviour that will merit admiration and love from this little one flipping about inside?

When I was an Amway Distributor, one of the philosophies they taught us was a concept called “Creating the Pull”.  They were grooming us all to be leaders, but what’s leading if you have no followers?  What’s worse – if you have proclaimed “followers” but no one wants to be where YOU, in particular, are.  So the concept of creating a pull – put enough distance between you and your “followers” in the achievement and attainment of dreams that makes it look like you are further ahead and wish they could hang with you but they’ve got x-amt of work to get done before they can achieve your success.  Accomplishing this by sending postcards from beautiful places that you’ve managed to be able to go as a result of your hard work and wishing they could be there… but they haven’t reached the success level required for them to earn that particular trip.  Or cars or clothes or free time… all the things they dangled before you as rewards for your work.  I’d gotten many a post card from tropical places “wishing I was there”.  And it made me want to work harder so that I could participate.  I wanted to belong to THAT group.

In a lot of ways and without any kind of effort on her part, my mom “created a pull”.  She didn’t tell me too much about herself.  She just carried herself with poise, grace, determination, pride and love.  She was all the things a grown woman should be in my mind and in my eyes and without dangling it in front of me… she made me want to be as much like her as I could possibly be.  There were some things about myself that I’d never be able to shrug off that were quintessentially ME – the social butterfly, the commensurate performer, the boy-crazy little girl…  Those were just parts of me that I had to know were uniquely mine and not like her at all.  But everything else?  I wanted to emulate her.  The wit.  The style.  The mystery.  The cool-under-pressure.  Personality wise, she was a female James Bond (to me).  And of course – while I learned more and more about her very human personality and flaws as the years passed, it took a very long time to get me to the point where she wasn’t just about able to walk on water in my opinion.

That same mystery brought certain distance between us though.  While  I was always aware that my mom was never supposed to be my “friend” or my “pal” – I felt she left the earth without me really KNOWING who she was.  There was a whole other woman that existed before the married mother I came to idolize.  There was the single, gorgeous,  adventurous youngster growing up in Haiti who had a penchant for wearing short things and was always thinking about her cousins and family and showed it by visiting and chatting with them often.    The woman who existed before my father married her.  I only get glimpses of her in stories from her counterparts and cousins who are still with us.  Making the myth of my mom even more elusive and glamorous.

I don’t know what this little one is going to think of me.  I might be so busy wanting her to love me as much as I loved my mom that I’d do all the wrong things… say all the wrong things.  She’d just end up being a Daddy’s Girl… and maybe not thinking much of me at all.  I know that I think she’s the bees knees already…  I guess… I just have to be myself and hope that she loves me just as much.

*

Third Trimester

Here it is… the final stretch as they say.  And when I thought I couldn’t be anymore humbled… I am bereft of the words that can explain all that’s going on.

When i lie in bed at night getting ready to sleep and rejuvenate… this little one rolls around and animates my tummy… and it literally tickles to the point where I laugh out loud – to my self… by myself.  And as I listen to the echo of my laughter fade away into the silence, I think about WHY I’m laughing and then I’m figuratively tickled…  I have a little baby inside of me…. I do…  one that looks like she’ll make it out of there … healthy enough for me to feel her movements and little limbs stretching and tickling my lower belly…  healthy enough for me to observe the quiet rhythmic jump of her having hiccups in my womb and every time I sit and think long enough about it… I’m reminded… There’s a little baby inside…. OF ME….  My baby.  Finally.  What a wondrous miracle.  What amazing blessings God is capable of.  And usually as I quietly entertain the fears that normally take over anyone in my position  – I pray that I’m ready… I don’t have all the elders to ask the questions to that raised me, how will i know what to do…  i hope that all that I’ve done and eaten in the last 7 months has allowed her to grow healthy and progressively and I’ve not done something to harm her… Am I too old for all of this… it’s all washed away by the amazing humility once she moves.   Or kicks.  or thumps.  And I know it’s not a lot… but right now?  It’s everything to me.  She is everything to me.  Everything else I’ve ever striven to accomplish or complete hasn’t had near the significance of these months.

Still so much preparation to complete.  Is anyone ever truly completely ready for a little baby to come into their lives?  I just trust and pray that I have all the internal tools ready so that they will manifest into anything she needs at all.

28 weeks… and counting.

*

36.

I try to post every single year on my birthday. I’ve done pretty good. I’m also human and sometimes it’s up — sometimes it’s down. But I love that I can go back and read how I felt in that moment… know what was happening to me then… and get some perspective on what I’m going through now. How I became this woman that stares in the mirror every morning. 36… feels a touch empty. 35 was supposed to have been the precipice of motherhood…off of which I was going to jump and never look back. However, I find myself at 36 still teetering on said rocky cliff looking at the road down and wondering if it makes sense to hope so much anymore. I know its just the moment. But it feels truly empty. My regular midnight call from Mom to wish me a happy birthday is seriously lacking. I’m in my own head more these days (as referenced by the last post). And I wonder what else there is… besides here… a lot. I’m sure Ill look at this post upon turning 37, juggling children and formula and bassinets and just laugh and shake my head at where i was at mentally.

I hope… that I do.

2000 – I aimlessly spend my days and nights searching for attention. I just want someone to notice me. To the point where if the little cat on my screen for my Office 2000 meows at me… I get happy. She smiles at me and I feel like someones paying attention.

2003- Birthday calls have been coming in since 9:00AM. I really feel loved. My mom looked at me last night with this look of … Wow… my baby is all grown up and it felt really amazing. Thinking about it makes me tear up because the same way she’ll always look at me and see her baby… is the same way I’ll always look at her and see how shes always been my world.

2004 – It is a GLORIOUS FALL DAY, just the way I always love my Birthday to be. I am all tingly this morning. I just feel really good and happy and loved and blessed. Whatever this day brings, I know it will be FABULOUS! I cant wait to see what it yields. And I look forward to tonight. Whatever my baby has planned. He’s wonderful. Called me at midnight to wish me a happy birthday. EVERYTHING I prayed for. GOD does certainly answer prayers. Just in HIS time.

2005 – going on a drinking binge for my 31st – hopefully will come out the other end alive. celebrated my baby’s 31st – tried hard to make it festive. sad that I had to try hard. learning more about myself and how others perceive me every day.

2006 (this one merited a full repost… LOVE what I wrote) -
Dear 32 Yr Old Victoria,
Welcome!! All the previous years have been waiting and preparing for you. We never thought it would all happen in one year, but we know that you’ve always been ambitious so, it’s no real surprise.
This milestone… The making of this 33rd year in your life signifies so much. This is truly a new beginning. A new life awaits you just beyond this date. A new husband. A new home. The very real and welcomed possibility of motherhood. All the things we’ve prepared you for. Many years of schooling and life experience…. Years of mistakes and heartbreaks. Years of successes and disappointments have brought you right here. Right where we had always hoped to be. It’s scary… We know… But luckily, you’ve never let yourself be held prisoner by your fears (‘cept when it comes to bugs).
Year 23 remembers an important lesson – “Growth only happens when you are out of your comfort zone.” And you quickly took to a “get it over with” attitude that propels you forward. Year 13 taught you that not everyone will like or appreciate you and your personality, but as long as you did for your self… That’s all that mattered. Year 27 taught you to assess situations with more than just Passion… But with a modicum of practicality (that’s how you found real, true and lasting love) Year 24 taught you the art of introspection and shed the fear of listening to yourself and what was going on in your heart. Years 6 – 8 taught you to love the Lord, love the sky, love the sun endlessly and until the end of your days. Year 26 gave you the hint of cynicism that took the edge off of your ever present naivete without hardening you completely.
And now you’re ready. Welcome. We’re happy you made it.
Lovingly,
Years 0 – 31.

2007- Happy Birthday to Me! Im dedicating my year to living in the now… in the name of wonderful memories Ill extract from them to take with me when I go. Now is all we have. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow – we only have a marginal say in what happens. All we can really control is NOW. Happy 33 to me…

2008 – *sigh* so much on my mind… I just cant recline

2009 – THANK YOU LORD, THANK YOU MOM DAD! THANK YOU FAMILY FRIENDS!!
For giving me light. For giving me strength. For giving me hope and teaching me lessons. For guiding my hand and assuring my step. For loving me tough when that needed to happen. For inspiring my heart and enlightening my mind. For showing beauty where I though it was lacking. For soothing me with peace and animating me with joy. For standing by quietly and giving me backing. Forgiving me. For holding me close or walking away. Even the hurts have helped me to grow. This life I live; this “intenseness” I feel; the skip in my step; the glow in my smile….
I feel because every day you allow me to be me and love me deeply… ANYWAY!!!

Here’s to looking back and laughing. On to the next.

*

My eyes are Green… ’cause I eats a lot of vegetables…

It’s really good to recognize something for what it is. Even if it may be shrouded as something else.

Last night wasn’t actually a bad night. Just some not-great things happened in it. I got home after an extremely productive day at work and the Hubby was cooking dinner for me. Sweet and thoughtful and wonderful. He made chicken patties so we could have a little picnic dinner. I ate them… They were delicious. But something didn’t sit right with me ultimately. I got a horrid tummy ache and felt out of sorts. I wasn’t my self. At 9:00PM I was contemplating turning in for good for the night. Which I did, but I didn’t stay down. The tummy got worse and so did my demeanor. I was just miserable. Eventually the hubby made me some hot tea which I drank quickly and I sniffed some Peppermint oil and was able to stay down for a while. Part II of the torture came in. Remember that Drake obsession? Well, I’m now convinced that there is something subliminal in the music. Because it’s haunting me. No matter what I do – it’s the only music I hear in my head. I listened to nothing but Gospel yesterday (Help – everyone who knows ME? knows it was for work — it’s just not my cup of tea). And somehow the long tones held for the Lord couldn’t scrub my brain clean of Drake’s music all night… it was juggling between verses with Nicki Minaj or duets with The Dream. It was actually KEEPING me awake. Which is a sure sign it’s time to put that album AWAY. But… the night doesn’t stop there.

Part III of the torturesome night comes in the form of a dream. When I finally did close my eyes long enough, I found me and my hunny strolling through the streets of some town. Just chatting. At one point, we sat down on the steps of a town house. Pretty house but was old school… needed some repair. Outside, there was a great big Yellow valance hanging down from the outside of the topmost window down around the entrance. The house felt familiar and comfortable so we sat on the steps talking. In the middle of our discussion some people come out of the house — looks like they’re going for a night on the town. They look familiar… but I think it’s my mind playing tricks on me. The lady passes by and I smile at her and she smiles back. The gentleman passes and gives me a huge hug and continues on his way. I don’t find it to be strange at all. Just some friendly people in this dream realm. We decided to walk into the house and make ourselves at home (I know right?) but they left the doors open. We sat in the parlour room and watched tv and chatted over beverages. Suddenly I hear the chatter of children and I look up. There’s a man standing there in an orange sweater and blue jeans and another man in a white v neck long sleeve and jeans. They are assessing the house. I look down next to my hubby and there’s a woman sitting next to her with the eldest of what looks like 2 baby girls. The youngest one is cradled in the orange sweater man’s arm. He finally turns around and it’s JC. I gave him a most evil stare and said, “what are you doing here?” and he flippantly responded “I’m in the market for a house.” “Not this one,” I returned, “It’s not for sale.” And he frowned up his lips in assessment and mumbled “they need to….” I glanced at the babies… I couldn’t see their faces… But they looked happy and sunkissed and perfect. I glanced at the hubby and he was gone… I stood up and walked out of the house and asked them all to please follow me out – the house was now closed. JC shrugged and gathered his family and friend and left. Almost sucking his teeth at me on his way out. The bile bubbled up in my stomach and woke me.

I know I’m only footsteps away from the things I want in life. The things I’ve been chasing. But I’m only human. I guess deep down inside… I’m envious of people who seem to have things … I must think they don’t deserve. It’s not my place to decide those things. But… I’d be denying a very real and essential part of me if I tried to pretend that all of me is okay with it all of the time. I am slowly realizing my dreams. It’s happening. But every now and again, when I look into my dream mirror… I allow myself to feel what I suppress in my waking life.

It’ll be funny to reach back and read this post when all my dreams are fulfilled. I’ll think… “How silly was I to ever doubt….”

*

Holding My Breath

It’s a habit of mine that I don’t know where I picked it up… nor do I know when I’ll ever be able to truly get it under control. I dare say that it’s a result of me regularly feeling that I’m anticipating something big. But I know that it’s not just that. I just hold my breath during random times in a day. And once my body and I have realized that I can no longer do that… I let out a huge sigh that sounds indicative of frustration or malaise… but it really isn’t either. I’m just… gasping for air. I was at a health fair recently where I went to one of the tables where they specialize in relaxation therapy. And I barely sat down in the woman’s chair when she leaned forward and asked me with concern and a calculated squint, “You hold your breath a lot… don’t you?” And I plopped into the chair mouth agape… and she exclaimed while she pointed at me “You’re doing it now… BREATHE!” She startled me so I breathed in and out… and answered her… And she told me about all the ways she could tell; my body language, my consistently furrowed brow, a paleness to my skin… all signs. I was amazed. Of course, I chalk it up to old age that i don’t really remember what else she said or what I should do about it – which undoubtedly was linked to her company’s service and would have some pretty penny that I’d have to fork over for said services (and also probably serves as the reason to why I don’t remember).

What I’ve realized of late is that I don’t just hold my breath at times. I hold my life. For the same basic reason. In anticipation. It’s a bad thing to do, I know, but it’s almost involuntary. Since May 12th, I have consistently held my life… as I introduced my body to all sorts of new things: Mitochondrial Energy Support pills, Co-Enzyme Q10, DHA, Folic Acid, Birth Control, Lupron, Lovenox, Progesterone in Oil, Progesterone Suppositories, Medrol, Estradiol, Gonal-F, Colace, Human Chorionic Gonadotrophin, Amoxycillin, Metronidazole, Ofloaxin, Terconazole, Phenazopyradine. *takes a breath*

Just to name a few.

Some pills. Some shots. Some salves. All more than this little girl takes in “medication” any given day. I rarely take aspirin for a headache (it’s got to be a REALLY REALLY bad headache). And the more meds I took… and the more I held my life in stasis… waiting to see what would happen next. All the side effects they told me would happen: moodiness, hot flashes, soreness, constipation, diarrhea, nausea, numbness, weight loss, weight gain, bloating, dehydradtion… you name it… I was suppose to feel it. So I held my life… held my breath and waited… because all of that was in anticipation of maybe becoming pregnant at the end of the cycle. So… smaller things in life took a back seat where they could – AKA in large part took a hit. Larger things became more magnified and took precedence and went under scrutiny… work, home life.

And here I am – on the other side of it all. Childless still – but with hope of trying several times again. In a new job that needs me and compensates accordingly. And refocusing on the things I put on hold. Detoxing for a little while and only keeping up with my vitamins and the diet on which I dropped 15 lbs… and finally

*exhaling*

*