The Miracle of Birth

Exactly one year ago today I had no idea that in less than 24 hours, I would become a mother. A mom. The mother of someone. I was going to have a baby. No matter how I said it, I was terrified! We had wanted a baby for so long--we had exhausted ourselves in prayer, but after all that we went through, I realize that God is always teaching lessons. Lessons in faith. Much easier to realize now, but all along I knew that He had a plan for us. I say that I had no idea that less than 24 hours later I was going to become a mom, but the truth is, God had given me signs all during my pregnancy to let me know exactly when Abby would come. I think that when I saw those signs, I labeled them as "just coincidences," but I think that in the back of my head, I knew what was going to happen all along.

You see, every week--many times throughout the week--the number "38" would arise. And I'm not talking once or twice a month. I'm talking several times a week. It seemed that each day when I happened to glance at my watch, look at the clock on the oven, check out the clock in the car, or the clock that jutted out of the wall down from my classroom, it was in the 38th minute of the hour. Don't get me wrong: it wasn't like this every single time I looked at the time, but the truth was that it happened frequently; enough for me to take notice. 10:38, 3:38, 5:38, I saw them all. Once I started to pick up on this, I tried to figure out what it meant. The more I thought about it, the bigger I grew, and the bigger I grew, the more I began to contemplate that the timing coincided with my pregnancy. And you know what? I was right. How far along in my pregnancy was I when Abby was born? Yep, 38 weeks. Like I said, I think I knew she was going to come then, but I chose to block that out. After all, I wasn't prepared! I NEEDED (and I mean NEEDED) the 39th week as a resting period. My ankles were swollen. I walked with a waddle. I had the worse acid reflux imaginable. I couldn't see my feet. I also was exhausted. And don't get me started on my heartburn. (Thank you, Pepcid AC!) So, I was so looking forward to that 39th week. I was looking forward to no more school, no more grading, getting the nursery put together, getting our house in order. But God had other plans. As it turns out, I had absolutely no break at all. Truth is, I think it made me a stronger person.

May 17th was a regular school day, a Thursday. My classroom was still being packed up, I had printed off plans for my sub for the last week of school, I created final exams and keys, I passed out papers, signed yearbooks. Basically, I was winding down the year. That day, I reminded my kids about the party the next day, Friday. My classes wanted to send me off with a bang (or perhaps just using my pregnancy as an excuse for a free day!) Some students were bringing chips, others drinks. One of my girls in first period was even bringing cupcakes just for me. (They had gotten used to bringing me sweets as I devoured anything chocolate-y within sight! :) ) Sixth period surprised me that day with a cookies, drinks, and a pinata. While that sounds like a sweet gesture, the pinata was actually that of a little girl. So, I asked for their forgiveness if I didn't participate in beating the small child until it busted open. It didn't seem quite appropriate given the reason for the celebration. That was QUITE typical of sixth period though!! Here's me holding what's left of the pinata. Poor thing.
Friday, May 18th was going to be a fun day: party, say goodbye to my kids, a real day of closure for me. I greatly anticipated it. I should have known that that would be too easy for a Planner Extraordinnaire like myself.

That night, on my way home from work, I stopped at Subway and got a footlong sandwich. My plan was to eat half that night and take the other half to school for lunch the next day. Quite a treat! Sadly, that turkey sandwich spoiled in our refrigerator as it sat there untouched the next few days. :( I worked in Abby's nursery (Thank you Emily for all of your help that evening!!), attempting to get things organized. (Oh, let me interject here that we had just moved into our house 16 days earlier. I think there were more boxes in our house than there were pieces of furniture! Matt and I apparently like to make things as stressful as possible for ourselves! :) ) I became exhausted, called it a night, plopped myself down on the couch, and Matt and I watched the season finale of The Office. Strange I remember that. I then went to bed around 10:30. I fell asleep anticipating my last day of teaching for a while, thrilled about having a break, getting the house ready for our little bundle of joy who was due to arrive in two weeks. Little did I know that little Miss Abby was gearing up for making her entrance into this world a little sooner than expected.

11:45. I rolled over in bed. And then I felt it. I won't go into detail, but for those of you who have had your water break, you know what I'm talking about. I KNEW what was happening. I just laid there, clenching my legs together, PRETENDING that this was not happening. Not now. I think I laid there for a full minute, petrified. And here's the funny part. And I know you're going to laugh, but a part of me (a LARGE part of me) thought that if I just rolled back over and closed my eyes, that what just occurred would be erased. That if I just closed my eyes tight enough and tried to forget about it, then fluid would stop flowing. That's what I HOPED.

I remember running into the bathroom and sitting there for about two or three minutes, my mind racing, DREADING waking Matt up, telling him that it was time. Poor guy had JUST gone to bed about 30 minutes earlier! And as scary as labor is for a soon-to-be mom, I think it's just as terrifying for the soon-to-be dad. When I realized that no amount of praying was going to stop my labor, I uttered, "Matt?" Silence. "Matt??" A little noise came from the bedroom. "Uh, I think my water just broke." And then it was like you see in the movies. He came into the bathroom, surprised and wide-eyed. We called the doctor. Matt had to get a bag together for me (one of those MANY things on my To-Do list during the 39th week!! Oops!!) What a trooper Matt was. As I still sat on the toilet, I called out to him where to find my socks, PJs, etc. It was like a bad comedy taking place before my eyes. We drove to the hospital, calling family on the way. And I was terrified. I had never been more scared of anything in my entire life. I wasn't ready. The nursery wasn't ready. I had to go to school the next day. What was I going to do about a sub? Thoughts raced through my mind as we drove down 75 after midnight that night. I was a scared little girl, so worried about what was about to happen.

I look back at that ride, that "girl" who had no idea what to expect, who was so scared of the reality of becoming a mom. And I look at the person I am now, one year later, and if I could tell that girl anything, it would be to stop, take a breath, and relax. To have faith in God and in myself to know that everything will be OK. Do all soon-to-be moms feel like that right before they bring their child into the world? Of course. It's natural. And the truth is, that as scary as labor is, when that beautiful child is pushed (or pulled!) out of your body and placed in your arms for the very first time, all of the worries in the world are swept away for that one moment. It was like for that one moment in time, a wave of emotion that I had never felt before rushed over me. I sobbed. I sobbed like I had never sobbed before. I was overcome with emotion at the process that had just occurred--at the miracle that had just occurred. I looked at that little baby on my chest, and for that moment, I knew that my purpose in life had just become greater. I was somebody's mom. I am somebody's mom. I always will be somebody's mom. Scary? Sure. Exhausting? No doubt. Overwhelming at times? You bet. But is it the most rewarding job I could ever have? Absolutely. And I wouldn't trade a minute of it.

Happy Almost Birthday, Abby. I thank God for you. I love you to pieces. More than you will ever know.