Nine Years

 

The birth of every baby is a miracle, Conner's birth was no exception.
 
Before Conner was born Kedar and I attended all of the labor and delivery classes that the hospital offered. We were the instructor's star students.  When we did relaxation exercises the other men, instead of coaching their own wives, would listen to Kedar coaching me expertly through the imaginary contractions. We had a "Labor Plan" written down (absolutely no medications, after all, women had been having babies since the beginning of time, my body would know what to do). We had our hospital bag packed. We felt prepared.

The night before my due date I started having contractions. I was awake all night timing and pacing. When the sun rose over the mountains I told Kedar it was time to go to the hospital. But as we got ready to leave, my contractions became less regular and noticeably weaker. We were heading out the door and I stopped Kedar saying that I had been wrong; we didn't need to go after all. He looked at me for a minute and then said resolutely, "We have to go. Let's get in the car."

The whole drive to the hospital I tried to convince Kedar to turn around. I didn't want to be sent home without a baby. When we walked into the Women's Center at the hospital my contractions were nearly non-existent. Embarrassed, I approached the front desk where two nurses sat. They looked at me inquisitively; they could tell by the way I walked, by the way I spoke, by the look on my face that this was a false alarm. Another first-timer without a clue. They asked me all of the standard questions.

Their final question, "When is your due date, honey?"

"Today," I answered.

The nurses looked at each other knowingly, barely concealing a snicker. "Y'know, honey, most babies aren't born right on their due date."

"I know," I said quietly, my face burning with humiliation. Why had Kedar insisted on coming?

We were taken to a room where one of the nurses told me that I would be monitored for about an hour and then "probably be sent home." I was hooked up to the monitors.  I watched miserably as the green beeping line confirmed what I already knew- I wasn't in labor. I was still contracting but they were very weak and very irregular. I lay on the bed sulking for about twenty minutes when suddenly Kedar jumped up from his chair and studied the monitors intently.

"What is it?" I asked nervously.

"Nothing," he said, "I just want to check something," with that, he ran out the door.

The next minute, Kedar ran back into the room with a swarm of nurses. They were busy checking and poking, rolling me onto my left side and then flipping me onto my right side.

"What's going on?" I asked frantically.

"Your baby is under a lot of stress, honey. His heart rate is dropping during your contractions."

Within fifteen minutes, I was rolled into the operating room for an emergency C-section. When my baby boy was born I didn't hear him cry right away, when I got my first quick glimpse of him he was covered in thick green meconium and his little cheeks were raw and bright red from rubbing on the inside of my uterus.

"Five pounds, seven ounces," the doctor announced.

He was whisked out of the operating room  into the nursery where he was poked and prodded with needles and feeding tubes.

The next few days were surreal. I didn't feel like a mother. I lay in my hospital bed recovering and Conner was in the nursery with a feeding tube in his little nose. I couldn't hold my baby, I couldn't feed him, I couldn't do any of the things that I had anticipated. I felt like a failure; women had been having babies forever but somehow my body didn't know how to nourish or deliver a healthy baby. 

When we finally took Conner home a week after he was born, I felt completely abandoned.  Just the day before, his nurses were the only people allowed to take care of him but now I was in charge of his well-being.  I was expected to be the mother that I wasn't allowed to be in the hospital.

As I spent time getting to know my little baby I was amazed by the things I learned about him; I was in complete awe of his perfect fingers and tiny toes, his ears were thin and paper-like, he was alert and curious and although he was small he was strong and determined.  My confidence as a mother grew as he did, and I learned along with him about this new life that we were both starting.

Conner's birth didn't unfold the way that I planned, but the way that it unfolded made it impossible to doubt that it was planned by our Heavenly Father.  After I was able to recognise that His way was better than mine, I could see Conner's birth for the miracle that it was.       

Happy Birthday, Conner!  We're so blessed to have you!