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| Photo credit: Jennifer Pondillo Photography |
Rule number one in my book as a first time expectant
mother: Do NOT listen to anyone else’s
“birth story”. It will only scare you
and make you feel like the plans you had for your own baby’s delivery are
impossible. But, if you must ask about
their experience just know this-every single birth is different. Every. Single. One. Even when you have had multiple kids- their
entrance into this world will have been different in it’s own way. My own three babies were certainly no
exception.
Kennedy Egan’s was
filled with waiting past the due date, back labor, lots of pushing and not a
lot of action and then an emergency C-section that brought us a 7 lb. 2 oz. and
22 ½ in. baby girl and me a whopping spinal headache that I wouldn’t wish on
anyone.
Jack Holden’s was filled with a very early arrival, and even
earlier departure and more tears than any parent should ever shed in their
lifetimes. He was tiny, yet at 4 lbs. 9
oz. and 14 in. at only thirty weeks- still a pretty big boy. He came into the world quietly, only tiny
little noises before he left us, and had us shell-shocked for over a year
trying to figure out how we’d ever move forward. But I have to believe that this boy guided us
through it from above to bring us to the place we arrived to just three weeks
ago.
And so here we are.
Three weeks later and I think I’m ready to peel myself away from him
long enough to introduce you all to Carter Fitzgerald. The boy that tricked me twice into thinking
he was coming. The boy that, although I
was terrified to carry, knew this would be it for us, and so at the time was sad to no longer have him nestled under my heart.
The days before his scheduled arrival Sean and I tried our
best to soak up the last moments of Kennedy alone. They were long days, but I knew I’d never get
them back- and more than that, she’d never get them back. The resounding sentiment though was that we
were all so excited. The day before he arrived and Sean’s dad and step-mom had come up from North Carolina, Kennedy
decided she’d spend the night at Sean’s mom’s house, and my parents had just
returned from the family beach trip.
Everyone was where they were supposed to be. We ate a nice hot, home cooked meal together,
laughing that it could be the last one for a long while and decided to try and
go to sleep early-you know, so we wouldn’t be tired? Go ahead, you can laugh.
I had been having contractions pretty much always but
decided I was just ignoring them because I would be the girl who cried labor no
more. Well by three in the morning it was
a little too much to ignore but since I was scheduled to arrive at the hospital
until six I took a bath instead (imagine how they talk about how small the
tanks at Sea World are for the poor whales…), then a shower and was ready to go
by 4:30am. I finally woke Sean up and
told him it was time to get moving. We
left the house at five and were at the hospital at 5:30 and getting checked
in. As soon as I was hooked up to the
monitors-it was evident the contractions were real and of course this boy
decided to start moving things along then, the day he was planned for. I kept whining at poor Sean that ‘I thought
that the whole point of the “schedule” was to avoid all of this’. He just kept smiling at me and then put on
the paper suit and waited. And I waited. And then finally my amazing doctor, who it
become very clear fibbed about being “on call” and called in favors to deliver
this baby on a holiday so we could be home in time to put our little girl on
the school bus four days later, arrived and said it was go time.
As I walked to the delivery room with the nurses to begin
the spinal, Sean gave me a kiss and said he’d be right behind me. The second I entered the OR though it got a
little ugly. I was on high alert; I
could barely follow the anesthesiologist’s directions but it got done they laid
me down and the full panic set it. I was
having horrible flashbacks to Philadelphia, the lights, the sounds, all of
it. My heart was pounding so hard it was
setting alarms off and led them to giving me oxygen. The doctor popped his head around the drape
and said, “Sean is coming in now and I am going to have this baby to you in ten
minutes.” And he did. The second he was out and I heard his little
scream, I could breathe again. To say I
was relieved will never do it justice. I
cried- hard; and for a lot of different reasons. Everyone got a chuckle over how big Cater
was: 9lbs. 9oz. and 21.5 in. Everything else moved along without issue but
truth-be-told I wouldn’t have noticed if it were otherwise. I couldn’t take my eyes off of that boy.
A few hours later, the most beautiful thing happened. Kennedy came to meet her brother-the boy who
lived. Her face just about undid
me. She fell in love hard. And even on the high of this new baby when a
nurse said, “ Oh, you’re a big sister now!” my baby girl, who looked so old and
sounded so wise, simply said, without ever taking her eyes off of her baby, “I
was already a big sister.” And in that
moment, I knew. I knew we could make it all work. The five of us-as unconventional a family as
it may be, we are still a party of five.
I spent my last night there alone with Carter, since Sean
had to take Kennedy to meet her teacher, drop off her supplies, and practice
the school bus, but they came to get me right after. I couldn’t wait to leave. I couldn’t wait to walk out of the hospital’s
doors with a baby in my arms; I needed the experience so badly. And, again, came the relief.
And then we were home.
And, I couldn’t believe my eyes when it happened, but after the rain
that came later that day, hand-to-God: a rainbow appeared. And so I cried; I cried very happy with a
hint of very sad tears. Jack was
welcoming his baby brother home too.
The next morning came quickly. There was a lot of excitement from the little lady ready to embark on her kindergarten adventure and a lot of nerves for the mama not quite ready to hand her baby off to perfect strangers. I held it together as I stood in the driveway watching one baby board the school bus, barely looking back, with another tucked in my arms. Once the bus pulled away, the tears flowed. She returned elated that day and so we called it a win.
I don’t want to paint it all as perfect though. Emotionally I feel much better than I ever
expected; I feel pretty great in fact.
But I am scared a lot too. I’ve
brought this guy to the doctor twice already and worry a lot more than I ever
did about small things with Kennedy. I
can’t help it. It’s like my heart and all
of the ache it’s been through can't fathom that things are ok; that things are
different this time. I am trying to be
easy on myself, to not get too inside of my own head and enjoy every minute of
this.
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| Photo credit: Jennifer Pondillo Photography |
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| Photo credit: Jennifer Pondillo Photography |
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| Photo credit: Jennifer Pondillo Photography |
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| Photo credit: Jennifer Pondillo Photography |
The last three weeks have been somewhat of a blur. Lots of snuggles, a surprising amount of
sleep, lots of visitors, our first brush with a sick sibling and having to keep
them separated (so not easy), the little man packing on the lbs. (we’re up to
eleven as of this morning!) and hours staring at this little boy-one that, two
years ago, I never would have thought would be here.
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| Photo credit: Jennifer Pondillo Photography |
