A mother’s perspective

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As I watch her place her very tiny fingers by her chin as she dreams, I can’t believe it actually happened to me.

I am the mother of a healthy seven pound baby girl. This creature that I carried inside my body for nine long months is finally here.

As they placed her on my chest for the first time, my very loud world went silent, as I took in our brand new daughter.

Through my tears, Abigail and I just stared at each other.

Is this really happening to me?

And as fast as they placed her on my chest, she was gone. Kyle quickly followed her over to the table where they weigh and clean her up, with a proud new dad smile on his face.

As I watched our daughter and continually ask if she is okay, I realized that this is the first time we have been physically separated. I can no longer protect this human being from the outside, as her big beautiful eyes took in the fresh new world.

I had one of those picture-perfect pregnancies that are only seen on television. I felt really good the whole time, gained just the right amount of weight and slept really well. Yes, towards the end I was a little miserable and more than ready for the arrival of our daughter, who was due Oct. 13.

“She is never going to come!” I would complain to anyone listening to me.  “It will be Thanksgiving and I will still be pregnant!”

My amazing physician, Dr. Setrini-Best assured me at each and every appointment, “We will not let you be pregnant at Thanksgiving, I promise.” I wanted to stop believing her.

At this point I could no longer see my own feet, climb out of bed on my own or even bend over to pick something up.  I constantly misjudged how big I really was; banging into objects and one time I actually fell going up the stairs – in slow-motion.

I was done with the whole ‘pregnancy’ thing. At forty weeks exactly – one o’clock in the morning on my due date (my daughter is already prompt, like her mother) – I wondered if the pain I was experiencing was in fact labor.

Standing up, I walked around the bedroom. The gold dog and Kyle continued to sleep.  I walked up and down the hall and even tried lying in different positions to see if it would stop.  It turns out you really can’t walk off labor. After and hour and a half of this, I woke up Kyle.

“I don’t know for sure, but I think I might be in labor,” I said to Kyle with uncertainly in my voice.

Sitting up straight, I could see the excitement in my husband’s groggy eyes.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” he asked me.

At this point I had no idea what to do.  All the classes and books I had read on this very subject went right out the window. It is the middle of the night and I was experiencing pain unlike anything I had ever felt before.

Taking control of the situation, Kyle calmly placed last minute items into our already packed suitcase. The gold dog looks up at us from his bed, as if we are bothering his night’s rest and I place my hand on his head.

As we made our way down the stairs, Kyle abruptly stopped in front of the nursery.

“What!?” I asked, annoyed between heavy contractions.

“The next time we walk into this room we will have our baby,” he softly said.

Not feeling the least bit sentimental with contractions on top of one another, I half smile. It is not until after my epidural later, that I fully appreciated this moment.

Driving to Morris Hospital in the early morning hours was surreal.  I was hoping and praying that this was not a false alarm and that they would let me stay and have our Abigail. After arriving, a nurse took me through all the steps.

“Do I get to stay?” I softly asked with a great deal of hope in my voice.

“Oh, yes dear,” the nurse said.  “You are going to have a baby today by the way things are progressing.”
I could hear the words come out of her mouth, but I didn’t believe her.  After all, we had been waiting for this for nine months (a little longer for me, as I always wanted to be a mother).

“Really?” I asked, again between the heavy contractions. “Today!”

My only birth plan was that I had no plan. I saw those women on television who were so mean to their husbands and I promised myself I would be nice to Kyle. After all, this was his moment too.

As he tried to soothe me, the sound of his voice was never more annoying.

“Please don’t touch me or talk to me,” I remember saying as my contractions came in heavy waves.

During our birth classes the instructor told us about some women who progressed really fast.  She said that they are the “diamonds in the rough” and with a first pregnancy it rarely happened.

“I will probably make the record books with an extra long birth,” I whispered to Kyle during the class. But as it turned out, Abigail had other plans.

She made me a diamond, as she came into the world very quickly.

Thirteen people waited in the hospital waiting room as Abigail made her debut into the world. My sister Amy stood outside the door, just in case Kyle needed backup.

Amy texted updates to those in the waiting room. But as lullaby music began to play (indicating a baby is born at Morris Hospital), cheering was actually heard ‘round the hospital that day from our family and close friends.

Abby was born into a positive environment where our team of doctors and I actually laughed (I swear) in between my pushes (did I mention how thankful I was for the epidural?) Before our family and friends rushed into the room to meet the newest addition to the Rodriguez-Borchers family, Kyle and I took some time with our new daughter.

I remember looking outside; someone must have opened the curtains. It was a sunny, crisp fall day. The leaves were dancing off the trees.

This time of year has always been special to me, but as I look at our healthy new daughter I will now always associate fall with Abigail. I will always remember this feeling of instant love that surrounded me as I looked into her big eyes.

It was then that our family and friends came in and sang to our daughter.

Watching Abby eye the people that surrounded her with a great deal of love and warmth was almost as overwhelming and marvelous as the first time she looked at me.

Almost.

Megan Borchers is a former writer for the Morris Daily Herald. Her column, ‘Beginner’s Luck’ was once a bi-weekly feature on the opinion page.

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