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.

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There is NOTHING like this…

Sweetest Goddess -

It is not like the night before graduation.  Or moving to another state.  Or like the moments before your wedding or any other sacrament in which you may partake.  Not the quivers before a major exam.  Not the day before a new promising job.  There are NO words to describe the feeling that I have knowing that today begins a new life for me.  Life as your mother.

I have DREAMED of this moment… more than I care to admit.  One may think I’m obsessed with the thought, but your presence in my life has been on my mind since I was a little baby myself.  As a child you took the form of many a cabbage patch kid and pink bunny rabbit.  The name you were DEFINITELY going to have changed about 4 times during the course of my life.  Who I thought without a shadow of a doubt would be the best father for you PALES in comparison to who you will actually get to call Daddy.  This day is a realization that I haven’t been dreaming this.  Not this time.  I’m not going to wake up with just a shadow of your face burned on my heart and a vague idea of what you might look like one day.  Today is the real thing.  Today is the biggest day of my life.  And even though I’m managing to piece together words for you to read one day when you’re older and stumble across this blog… I’m truly at a loss for words.  When I think of how hard I prayed and how much I cried and the things that had to be done to allow for your reality… I am HUMBLED by your presence here.  I am a blessed vessel and dedicated servant.  While it may not always seem that way and you’ll be resigned to believe that your poor mother must be crazy my only delusion is the intoxication of love I have for you.  The deep devotion I have to making a better life for you and giving you an amazing chance at this world, at this life — for being the absolute best person that you can become.   If I stumble over it, it’s clumsiness that can be assigned to my wanting to overshoot the goal.  I worry about doing it wrong or not doing enough of anything.  I’ll learn with time because all crafts are a thing to be perfected.  I pray to wield this motherhood thing with the effortlessness that your Grandmother had.  And even she still made mistakes out of extreme love.

You are an answered prayer.   My wish on a star.  My hearts greatest desire.  When I call on your name it is a thank you to God for allowing me to have this dream play out in my reality.  I can’t WAIT to hold you in my arms and feel your love.

AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!

Athena.

Welcome, my daughter.

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Week 39: Dreams of My Daughter

Well, that’s it… unless this little one makes a break for it this weekend, we are scheduled to meet her on Wednesday, June 29th at 10AM.  I’m super excited about it, a little scared, worried that I’ll mess something really important up and overall… OVERJOYED.

I’ve been wracked with weird dreams lately… most of them I can’t remember fully but always remembering that in them, I meet some version of this little cherub.  Sometimes good and leaves me feeling refreshed when I wake up and of course there are the dreams that leave me with a sinking feeling in my stomach that I did something drastically wrong.

I’ve been learning to be easier on myself with all that I think might have gone wrong with this pregnancy.  But at the end of the day – I took all my medicines every single day – give or take 5 or so days out of 10 months.  I tried to eat as healthily as I could and manage my cravings for things I shouldn’t have like sugar or excessive fat.  I made a concerted effort to sleep on my left side for the last 10 months to increase the oxygen and blood flow to her.  I lessened activity and started wearing flats around the 8th month so as to take it easy on myself.  I mean… I know that most mothers think this in the back of their heads but… crack whores give birth to healthy babies and don’t even try HALF AS MUCH effort.  Not that this should be the standard.   But the point being that I shouldn’t assume that everything will be wrong with this little one.  I did my very best.  And judging by how active and the measurements despite the adversities…. I didn’t do poorly.  She looks to be about 7lbs when she comes out this week – which is a good size especially considering I was battling GD and the risk was that she’d come out too big.  Her lung functionality should be in place because last week wednesday her L/S level was at 2.3 which should put her at above 2.5 when she comes out this week so, hopefully no NICU for her.  The blood flow to her brain ratio was 1.09 on Thursday which impressed the doctor – after we worried that the blood clots that were forming in the placenta might hinder some of that.  And overall… she’s been a calm (yet active), happy little someone in there.  We’ve both not gone through mood swings (except when it related to talks about my mom and grandma and how much I miss them).  Cravings were under control.  I have yet to see my feet swell from edema.  Not one mention of “bedrest” when I was sure I’d be laid up.

This? has been a GREAT pregnancy and I had wonderful professionals holding my hand down this path.  Even when they would frustrate the hell out of me with their sometimes lack of communication… they knew what they were doing and made sure I walked the right path to assure this little one’s arrival.

What a difference 2 years can make.  This time in 2009… I was recovering from my abdominal myomectomy.  What held up position in my uterus right prior were 14 useless masses of stunted growth and dreams deferred… stress and poor living.  Making it impossible to conceive and sustain.  Since them being cleared out and going through one failed round of IVF… Here I am – naturally conceived this little one… and grew her up…  Despite  the pitfalls…. Placental Previa.  Gestational Diabetes. Thrombophila.  Anemia. Clots in the Placenta. 4 Fibroids growing in there with her.   Despite all of that… she dances and twirls and poses for paparazzi when we do our ultrasound and even smiles.

THANK YOU LORD!!!  All things truly balance out in the world.  You promised me that after rain and the darkest night, I’d see the light and glory if I remained faithful.  All glory goes to you, GOD.  THANK YOU for this AMAZING gift.  I am HUMBLED and GRATEFUL!

4 days to go.

AMEN.

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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.

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The Art of Gifting

I no longer believe that someone has to intimately know you in order to be able to feel what is important to you.  They just have to pay attention every now and again.  My philosophy has always been that PRESENCE weighs more than PRESENTS to me anyday.  It will be the memory of you by my side making me laugh or helping me along that will warm me in the days that I find it hard to grasp on to reality more than the material things you may have thought to give.  And while the gifts help a LOT – I don’t want to discount that at all – memories always have meant more to me.  All my life, I have consciously made memories.  I’ll be in a moment and think to myself… “This is one of those memories I’ll always call on to warm me when life seems cold…”  I am actively archiving my life.  This blog is a part of that.

We recently had our “last grown up night out” (also known as the baby shower) and in true Me fashion – i didn’t want the typical.  The wicker chair, the measuring of bellies, icebreaker games or the hat with the ribbons tied on.  I wanted a true to form celebration.  An all out party.  My being in this position at all in this life is a complete miracle that transcends frills and games.  I needed everyone to come out and party and have a good time.  And that’s what we did.  Folks traveled from near and far and came to pay respects to this little one on her way.  And we (they) drank and ate and some danced and chatted and made a joyful noise in her name.  I couldn’t have asked for it to be better or any other way.  At the end of the night, we went home with what we lovingly refer to as “Mount BabyMore” which is currently erected in our living room – a dazzling assemblage of …. pretty much EVERYTHING we asked for off of our registry – a lifetime worth of pink & green & brown & yellow clothing for the princess and gobs of delicious Haitian food!  If we’d ever thought for a moment that we weren’t part of a loving community, our faith was again renewed that we have a true VILLAGE around us and surrounding us that will be there for her.

Today, I got a gift that rocked me to the core.  A chapter Soror of mine sent me a note on Facebook telling me she found the perfect book for me.  Which at the time I poo-pooed… thinking it was probably another copy of “Good Night Moon” or something along those lines.  But I couldn’t fault her generosity.  She thought that much of me at all so I was grateful.  We made arrangements for her to drop the book off to me at my job.  The mail guy delivered it and I mused on the phone while I unwrapped the gift.  I hung up the phone and looked at the cover:

Ladder To The Moon

Beautiful artwork.  This definitely wasn’t Good Night Moon….

I opened the jacket and read the first few words of the book:

One cool new evening,
Suhalia asked her mama,
“What was Grandma Annie like?”
“She was like the moon,” her mother replied.
“Full, soft, and curious.
Your grandma would wrap her arms
around the whole world if she could.”
Mama gave Suhalia a hug.
“You have Grandma Annie’s hands.”
she said.

Within seconds, the uncontrollable tears and sobs rolled through me.  I raced to shut the door to my office before my team saw me in such a condition.  How did they know?  How would anyone else know how to describe my little mommy so perfectly with so few words? I stared at the cover again and regarded a full figured, light skinned, long haired, openhearted woman that reminded me so of my mom… and I cried more as I thought of reading this book to my little one… trying hard to make her know her Grandmother from afar.  I flipped through the rest of the book thinking of all the parallels.  They likened her to the moon… which now when I stare at the moon, I think of the night she died when I did the same.  And something told me she was up there.  She used to always advise me against sleeping under the moon because I’d go crazy (lunacy) – but I told her she was my moon, lighting my path in the darkest night.  And she never warned me against the moon again.  And in the book, she visits her granddaughter and takes her up to the moon.   Just like my mom visited me in my dream and swept me around Haiti one night and showed me her homeland from her perspective.

This WAS the perfect book… and it amazed me that Soror Ann didn’t have to be my best friend in the world.   She just had to pay attention a little and follow her heart.  I want to buy many of these books so that I’ll always have one to read my babies so they’ll always have a connection to their Granny Ti’Den.

Thank you, Soror Ann… Thank you.

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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.

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31 Weeks

aaaaannnd counting!

Stuff is starting to get really real  now.  As if it wasn’t before.  I constantly feel this little one jogging a marathon in my belly… she’s ALWAYS having the hiccups, which renders me feeling completely helpless because there’s nothing I can do to help her with that.  I’ve been told that it’s positive and encouraging that she’s having them because it means she’s practicing her breathing and getting her lungs mature enough to function outside the womb.  So I guess… hiccup away…  It gets a little surreal to feel after 20 minutes or a half hour.   I managed to piece together some semblance of a registry and have finally nailed down the details for the shower – enough to hand over to trusted friends an sisters.  We built the crib yesterday and are now fawning over it in lieu of fawning over her.  Things are moving along.

Ended up in Labor and Delivery on Saturday because there was this constant pressure happening in my lower abdomen all day that would spike and become extreme and then subside but back to the regular hum of pressure.  Since this is child #1 and I’ve never experienced a contraction before, we headed to the hospital after calling the OB and got put on a monitor to make sure the kid wasn’t making an unplanned escape.  She wasn’t.  No contractions.  Cervix is long and closed.  So… then… what was I experiencing?  No one knows.  But I was sent home in as much pain as I got there which was disheartening.  With the orders to stay hydrated and relaxed, that’s how I had to spend the rest of my weekend.  I wished I had gotten a little more direction or help – but I supposed in these cases, it’s a bit lofty to do either.  If it’s not contractions or the kid trying to slide out, then we just don’t need to deal with it might be the philosophy at hand right now.    My main concern is that SHE is alright in there.  Shortly after we got to the hospital, she started moving around a lot (she had been pretty sedentary when the pain was in full swing).  She took a special joy in kicking the baby heart monitor in particular that they placed on her.   She pinpointed exactly where it was and would give it a good whack every few seconds as if to say “get this offa me”.  As long as she was moving, i was fine.  But the search continues on my part to find out what the source of this pressure may be.  Growing pains?  Was she laying laterally?  I may never know.

Got some 3d pics of her this past week.  FINALLY.  The little gymnast hasn’t liked being on camera much so she’ll fancy herself throwing her feet up in front of her face.  To which the technician would say “can’t take a picture of her like this, you’ll just see two big black things in front of her face… it would be a waste.”  So the night before, Earl consulted the belly.  Begging her to just give us a look… a quick one… and he would make his famous homemade strawberry shake for her (which she loves).  Sure enough, when we got to the technician and saw that her feet were crossed Indian style away from her face, we took the opportunity to get a few 3d/4d pics of her little face.  Here’s a sneak peek at the love of my life:

Used to be that these pictures really creeped me out… But, I guess when you’re really looking to know that little one inside… they aren’t so creepy… you’re just looking for what you recognize.  My (mommy’s) nose.  His forehead.  A hybrid of mommy’s lips and his lips.   His cheeks.  Jury is out on the eyes till she opens them.  And her mom’s hammyness – hand poised right at the chin and cheek as if she was posing.  Little  superstar.  Earl can’t stop kissing the picture and my belly.  And I just stare.  Still in awe that any of this is happening.  That I can say aloud “I’m pregnant” and have it be true and enduring for the first time in my life.  It’s all still so indescribable.

I love this feeling!

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Mortality

Once you’ve lost one loved one… and I mean a really close loved one – a parent, a sibling, a best friend – you become painfully aware that you are at risk of losing them all one day.  And it’s inevitable.

It changes how you look at everything in life.   How you react to folks and interact with them.  Nothing is ever interaction for the sake of living life.  You start to look at it (or… at least I do) as the memories you’ll look back on one day when this person isn’t around anymore.   And I try harder to hold on to these images in my mind so that I have something to keep me company in those times.  The memories for later that I create now.

I touch the madonna chain my mom… left to me – because she didn’t give it to me.  And my hand drifts down just a bit to touch my belly, now full with expectation.  And I find myself stuck in between.  Right in the middle passage of this strange cycle of life.  The loss of my mom’s life… the anticipation of a new one to start.  And I am living moments between them both.

Sidenote: Hindsight makes you examine things a little more carefully when you have new information.   Nightmares are sometimes harbingers of good tidings – but you place them in the frame of your current knowledge and they scare you because you don’t have all the information.  I look back at that dream and realize, they were mentally removing everything chemical… everything artificial… making way for the natural miracle that was about to take place.  I see that so clearly now.  But with lack of information and foresight… their presence and actions in my dreams scared me to death.

Grandma used to tell me that nothing is forever in this world.  And I heard her… but wasn’t listening.  I didn’t want to believe that good things weren’t forever too… wonderful people and happy experiences and the tangible personal warmth of bodily affection in the form of hugs and kisses and tender moments with your loved ones.  As good as all those things are – they HAVE to be forever…. right?

No.  But the memories of those things and the actual feeling of love created from those instances I sincerely believe transcend this existence and go with you… wherever your spirit is.

My heart is heavy and hurting right now as I observe a dear friend and sister go through what I went through.  I wouldn’t wish it on a mortal enemy.  And while we tell ourselves we know of the possibility of the outcomes – we’re NEVER prepared for the instance that takes the physical presence of our loved ones away.  There is a deep seated hurt / numbness / inconsolable void that takes over your function and while the words of comfort from the community swirl about your mind and soul – none of them can say what you want to hear.  “She’ll be back.  This is only temporary…”  or “Here’s a number to reach her while she’s gone”  or better yet – “this is just a nightmare – you’ll be waking up soon”.

I am trying to empty my head so my heart will function today.

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