One


My waters broke just before 2 a.m. one year ago. I had just gotten up once again to use the bathroom when, on my walk back to my side of the bed, it happened. Unsure what to do, I ran back to grab a towel while shouting to Clint to wake up. Shocked and still not fully awake, he sat up quickly to ask what was wrong. By 3 a.m. I had strong contractions so after paging our midwife, we drove to the hospital.

We were quickly ushered into a room with four empty beds, and left while someone grabbed a nurse. My contractions were getting more and more intense, sending jolts of pain across my lower back and seemed to come quicker and quicker. We waited to be told what to do as a few nurses wandered in and out, some addressing us and some walking past us briskly as they went into a connecting room. Around 6 a.m. we were moved into a private room and was hooked up to different machines as a nurse checked things out. It was decided that I was likely having back labour, which had become very painful. The only thing that would help get me through the fast paced throbs was Clint rubbing my back, which he did for hours and hours. Determined to stick to my plan to have a natural birth, I tried to ride it out. I tried the shower, tried walking around, tried a whole bunch of positions that I can't even remember now. Single contractions became long threads of connected ones. I was exhausted, yet excitedly motivated by the thought of finally meeting my sweet boy.

I was asked once again if I wanted anything to help the pain. It was now early afternoon. I looked at Clint and asked, "am I being ridiculous?". He quickly said yes, and I had to agree. As soon as the epidural hit me, the pain disappeared. I was able to lay down and have some water. I even had a nap! We kept an eye on our little guy, and soon it was determined that he was getting ready to come out. We were so pumped! I started pushing. And pushing. I could see the excitement on everyone's faces when they saw him, until they noticed he was coming out at a strange angle. The nurse gently pushed him back in to straighten him out, and we started at it again. Push push push. Another commotion at the end of the bed- we was on his way! But once again, the angle was off. Up he went. I pushed for four hours, growing more and more tired. A doctor determined that a caesarian would have to be performed as the baby would likely not fit. Terrified but anxious to get our boy out, I agreed.

I was wheeled down to a different room where nurses were quickly bustling about preparing for the surgery. I was given shots, hooked up to machines, and a partition was set up. Everything happened so fast, and I grew concerned that they would start before Clint even got there. But he sat beside me, trying to distract me with strange questions and funny stories. (I should mention that against all advice, he had peeked over the partition before sitting down, and was mildly traumatized by what he saw. So, unbeknownst to me, he was also in need of distraction.)

My life really began minutes after these moments. The sound of Caius crying for the first time awoke things inside me I didn't even knew existed. I felt an instant jolt of something shoot through me- I was a mother now and it felt amazing. As I watched the nurses carry him to the scale to be weighed and cleaned, I was mesmerized. 8 pounds on the dot, born at 10:34 p.m. on September 1st. Our boy. Our son. Our little Caius Anderson. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Dark hair, inquisitive dark blue eyes, long fingers. I remember him being placed on my chest as we locked eyes. "Hi buddy", I said softly, holding him tightly. An instant flash of recognition came over his face. Clint spoke over my shoulder, and Caius turned to him with the same look. We were captivated, and in that moment it felt as though we were the only ones who were there. I would have gone through that labour a hundred times over for the chance to meet him. I LOVED this tiny little human already; he had already filled my heart within five minutes. I was thrilled at how observant and aware he was- his eyes seemed to be constantly scanning his environment as he tried to take in his new world. It's funny to think of what a silly boy he became at seven months because I remember thinking about how serious he appeared during his first days.

The thing is this:

I never expected to be there for all my son's birthdays. I never believed that I would be by his side every year on September 1st, cutting cake and opening gifts. Maybe even sharing this story. I, 34 years older than he, would likely miss his later years- at least I had hoped so. Nature follows a pretty standard cycle of life where children outlive their parents. I was aware of this. Not even getting one chance to celebrate this day with him is beyond painful. I should be greeting Caius at his crib with a big Happy Birthday Buddy! Planning a first birthday party for your son when he is not here with us to celebrate is heart-breaking. Why he is not here with us, I'll never understand.

As we spend the day with family sharing our favorite memories of our sweet Caius, we ask that you take a minute to tell at least one person you love them- with a hug, words, a kind gesture. Or consider donating to support research and treatment to a charity that has caused other parents to celebrate their children's birthdays without them.

Happy birthday buddy. We would give anything to have you here with us today 💗💗💗 We love you so much




































Comments

Popular Posts