It is Thursday and this is a shit storm. My blood pressure is high again and so I am having to go back to the hospital. Maybe I’ll be induced. Let’s see. I’m hysterical inside, but what am I going to do?
Okay, so when I tell you that I became a mother the moment that I let go all of my home birth plans and checked in at Elmhurst Hospital L&D- I got the big suite... The day is my due date 7/20/2018, but it is more than that. It is a labor of the biggest type of love, the love for my child for whom I’ve waited more patiently than anything and any moment in my life. After being admitted Thursday afternoon, and truly already knowing in my heart that my best made plans were shot; I just opened up. I put on a positive attitude hat and a “badass mama” attitude. Due to needing induction, pitocin (the devil in liquid medicine form) I was confined to the bed mostly, but my amazing doula, Lynnette, helped me sneak in some laboring positions that I had originally desired to use. Every half hour, increments of two, the pit rose and my body grew more resilient, until the 16th hour and my husband and I called truce.
I cried bloody murder for pain relief- an epidural. I SWORE I would never do something like that to my body, not this hippy flippy natural neda, but I did and I do not regret it. I slept for two hours after my lower body became numb; that was the power nap to get Musa earthside. When I arose, I was 10 cm perfectly dilated and ready to push. I turned on my birthing playlist and jammed out, slathered myself with essential oils and said a prayer. I did a meditation to myself. I imagined myself in an ocean- the most vast and relaxing body of water I could think of in that moment. I submerged myself and my broken heart from losing the home birth, and when I emerged I came up with the greatest gift I could ever imagine. The baby that grew in my womb and my heart for 10 whole months. The chief resident who was in charge of the delivery, midway through pushing remarked “Your baby is so happy, I can tell from it’s heart rate!”.
Happy is how he came. After an hour and forty-five minutes of fine pushing (and pooping) he got here perfectly without a tear in sight for mama @8:45pm- 10 minutes later, the placenta came. Musa Ratliff Ibelaioui weighed 6lbs 1oz and 18 inches long (although there is controversy that he is really 20 inches long). With Whitney Houston’s “I’m Every Woman” blasting in the background, the hardest job of my life got done, with the sweetest of ease. Musa means Moses in Arabic. Moses means “drawn out of water”. He was just that- a home birth done well, drawn out of the waters of my heart.
If you are a mom who had to be transferred, let me tell you that you are successful! No matter what, you had a home birth in your heart and in your mind’s eye. You did, believe that!