Seven years ago tonight Kevin and I dined on ribs – a rare for meal for me in a pregnancy defined by my inability to eat – at Black-eyed Pea, one of our favorite neighborhood haunts. I remember Kev saying, ‘I want you to have a good meal.’ We knew the next day our first baby would enter the world one way or another. The last three weeks of my pregnancy had been difficult. I suffered from head to toe itching (suspected to be a liver complication) and SEVERAL efforts to induce my labor failed. The second of my induction procedures began the morning of 9/11. As the Twin Towers came crumbling down, I waited uncomfortably in a hospital bed for a medicine to soften my cervix. I begged the nurses and my beloved doctor to let me go home; I could not have my baby that day — of all days. He let me go. It would be another 13 days before I’d have Kellen (aka "Archibald" - that was his nickname while I was pregnant).
On Sept. 19, I checked into the hospital, along with my friend Tracy, to be induced with the real deal — Pitocin. Our families asked – should we be there? But both Kevin and I knew deep down inside that this would not work either. After 8 hours of the highest blunderbuss of baby-inducing drugs dripping through my veins (and no contractions or dilation), the doctor came in and turned off the machine. He knew how badly I wanted to have a natural birth. His eyes said it all. There would be no baby today. I had been taking steroids to control the itching, so they’d have to wait five more days to do a C-section. On our way out of the hospital, I saw my friend Tracy and her new daughter Nevin. It seemed unreal that here I was leaving the hospital, still pregnant. I couldn’t help but think, what is wrong with me? I broke down in tears when we got into the car — with the empty baby seat lurking behind me. Kevin supported me unconditionally through that time. The man who delighted when I finally relented and donned a maternity frock and whose eyes danced when he found out Kellen was boy never let me down. He took me to the Cheesecake Factory because he knew at least I could eat cheesecake.
The morning of Kellen’s birth, I woke up to debilitating pain. I thought, yes! I’ve gone into labor. But, the pain stopped. Kevin had gone to work for the day – my C-section was scheduled for 5pm. So, I went about my day, waiting for more signs that I might be in labor. I went to Target and I stood in line to buy a flag (that’s what you did post-9/11). I couldn’t eat or drink because of the surgery. When I checked into the hospital, my doctor came in, hopeful I might still be able to deliver naturally. But as he checked me a look of frustration streamed across his face. The pain I felt earlier? It was my 8lb 11oz baby turning transverse (sideways) in my belly.
The C-section was long and complicated. It took a long time to pull Kellen out of my ribs (that's what it felt like). But, I remember the nurse telling me, ‘he’s so cute … oooh, look at those cheeks!’ My doctor was amazed at Kellen’s size (I only gained 24lbs during pregnancy). I remember Dr. Ehmer showing him to me quickly and the nurses taking over. I could hear him crying and the nurses telling Kevin to put the “pretty part of the diaper” on the front. I can still hear the emotion in Kevin’s voice – how many times he told me “he’s beautiful, he’s perfect.” Those moments are the best of my life.
Finally I got to nuzzle Kellen as they rolled me out of surgery. I had a feeling all was not right, though. After Kev’s family got to see Kellen briefly, he was taken to the nursery. I started to have trouble breathing and I sat up quickly. The nurse ran to my side — I was hemorrhaging. Soon, medical professionals flooded to the scene. They talked about giving me a tracheotomy to help me breathe. But, instead the docs ended up administering (more) drugs and began working on a blood clot in my uterus — rigth there in recovery. I remember seeing a flurry of activity and Kevin standing by side, but I couldn’t feel anything (unfortunately, he had to witness it all - something highly unusual but they didn't have time to kick him out and he wouldn't leave my side). It’s as if I was having an out of body experience (I saw a lot of blood; I had no idea it was my own). I didn't come to grips with how close I came to being hauled back into surgery for a hysterectomy until months later.
(The fact that we had two more sons: I'd say they are gifts from God. That's why you won't hear us lament about having all boys.)
It would be 12 more hours before I’d see Kellen again and I finally begged Kevin to get him out of the nursery, so he did. And, boy did I love on him. I had been nervous about breastfeeding, but as soon as I saw him, I instinctively brought him to my breast and he latched on as he melted into my body (Kevin had been sneaking off to the nursery to feed him with a syringe - so he wouldn't get "nipple confusion" - until I felt better). I unwrapped him and looked at every inch of his perfect body. Oh my was he ever cute and that hair! For anyone who says you have to bond with your baby immediately after birth, let me tell you the next day is just as superb.
And though Kellen surely liked to cry for those first few months, there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought 'thank God for this little boy' — the one who is now missing a front tooth, who lets me into his boy world by sharing his love for Pokemon, math and sports ... who is competitive, sensitive, smart, accepting, vulnerable and incredibly loyal and loving ... who reminds me at every turn of Kevin, Jane, Old Dude and even me ...
Happy birthday my angel and thank you for forever making me a Mama.
