I had every intention of being an earth momma when I became pregnant with my son. I wanted to do things naturally and according to the way nature intended it. I booked a midwife and we talked about a natural delivery. I attended prenatal yoga classes, kept up my visits to the gym and ate only organic, antibiotic free everything. I read about breast feeding, attachment parenting and how to ease the baby into the world. It sounded wonderful. The books made it look easy. Then life happened.
At 20 weeks an anomaly was noticed on our ultrasound. After meeting with a specialist we found out our son had a Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia and he had a 50% survival rate. They told us we would have to change our plans. I’d see a MFM instead of a Midwife. I’d deliver at the hospital an hour away from our home. Our son would require surgery and a long stay in the NICU. It wouldn’t look anything like what we had planned.
I was terrified of course. Afraid he wouldn’t make it I did everything I could to stay healthy to give him a fighting chance. I continued eating well and working out. I meditated and took time off. Everything was sailing along and then at 37 weeks my water broke unexpectedly. Just days before my doctor had been talking about an induction at 40 weeks as he didn’t think we should leave the baby in their longer for his health.
Needless to say I was not prepared. We arrived at the hospital with almost nothing. Within 14 hours we had a baby and my labor was eased with the help of medications. The nausea was overwhelming. I managed to touch my babies head before the whisked him into the NICU. I heard one cry before they intubated him.
After I was moved into my room I lay in bed while my husband slept thinking of the events of the past day. I wasn’t disappointed, I was elated. My son had arrived. My son had cried and fought for his life. I heard his voice. I touched his head. We had connected outside the womb.
I didn’t see him until 8 o’clock in the morning as I had to wait for rounds to be finished. I began pumping as soon as I could. I visited daily but didn’t get to hold him until he was 20 days old. The swine flu was going around at the time so we couldn’t have visitors with us. He fought pneumonia and struggled to breathe while we watched him recover. I brought him home at a 29 days old a weeping, elated mess. He was alive. I was alive. None of what happened up to that point mattered.
My birth plan was left on the floor. Both of them. Nothing went as it was supposed to but he survived and I was a mother. Life was good.
No matter what happens when you give birth, no matter how many things don’t go your way remember that you’ll be a mother when it’s over. The good, the bad and the ugly are all just part of the journey to bring your little one into the world. Sometimes it doesn’t go perfectly. Sometimes it’s not just as you planned but in the end all that matters is your little one.
As I begin thinking of my next child and what I would like the experience to be like I know there are still some things I want, still some things I would aim for but nothing is written in stone. In the end all that matters is a healthy baby and that’s all a mother could ask for.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.