King came a knocking inside Mama's uterus a couple weeks shy of his expected due date—just in time for Mother's Day! What a sweetie to plan that out so well for his mommy. I always knew he was special from the get-go.
It started out like a typical lazy day for Patrick and me. We lounged around the apartment in the AM and around dinnertime, we took an excursion to our neighborhood Target to pick up some odds and ends. To celebrate our last Mother's Day weekend as "single people," Patrick treated me to a huge meal at Red Robin (cheeseburgers and endless fries, classy, I know) and we figured we would both binge to our hearts content since we had nowhere to special be and no one in particular to see for the next couple of days.
We got home at 8 PM and by 9, I was starving again. Throughout my pregnancy, I was always full up to my throat at night and could easily refuse even the most mouthwatering of treats so I thought the sudden onset of hunger was a tad unusual. I nonetheless ate more food, forgot two seconds later what I ate, and was back in bed scouring the TV channels for something interesting to watch. At 10:30, Patrick made his way into the bedroom and we debated for a few minutes on what our choice movie-of-the-night will be. I was not as tired as I normally am this late in the day (10:30 is LATE for preggos) so I was hoping we could watch a longer movie like the new Sherlock Holmes. But Patrick was pooped so we went with the Oscar-worthy (not really) Ghosts of Girlfriends Past and excitedly awaited for the timeless story of renewal and redemption to unfold.
At 10:45, I felt this small rush of something slip out of my something-something so I rushed to the bathroom to see what it was. As soon as I sat down on the toilet, I felt like I was peeing but I knew that I wasn't peeing. I called for Patrick and told him that "Maybe my water broke...but I am not sure...but maybe..." and quickly scrolled through the Rolodex of pregnancy information in my brain as I contemplated on what to do next. I knew that I should call the doctor but a big part of me just wanted to go to bed, cuddle with Patrick, and "deal" with this in the morning. And I had just eaten a grotesquely huge and greasy meal. I was in no condition to deliver my baby. Sorry.
But good ol' Internet had told us that if you think your water broke, you should call your doctor lest you risk a nasty infection so I called Dr. DeliverMePlease and left the most enigmatic of voice messages along the lines of "Maybe my water broke...but I am not sure...but maybe..." What I did know was that I had an hour or so to spare before I had to go to the hospital (I learned about this from watching the birth episode of Keeping Up With the Kardasians since I always have the most reliable of information sources) so I proceeded to jump into the shower and put on some makeup. I had also heard rumors about needing to "pack a bag" for the hospital so I threw some clean underwear and a curling iron (it fails me now why I thought I needed a curling iron) into a small luggage. By 11:45, Patrick and I were spick-and-span and my sister Carly had just arrived at our place to caravan to the hospital. Onward!
|Poster hippie child.|
Low and behold, my water was broken and I was already contracting by the time we arrived at the hospital. The rest of the details are a hair shy from full-on gross and gory so I will document them somewhere else for memory's sake and for those people that could possibly be interested in reading about how my baby came out of my something-something and how I also pushed out my something-something and... I really should stop now.
|Belly so full and lips so encrusted with Mama's milk.|
But what I will say is that life after baby has taken us through a path that…well, it is just one of those experiences that you need to have to understand. There is no way anyone could have explained to me pre-baby what the love for your own child is like and how your perspective on the strength and (contrarily) fragility of our mortal bodies crosses over to a deeper dimension. What has been such a beautiful surprise is how quickly and naturally Patrick and I have taken on the role of parents. King is such an integral part of our little family, or even more extreme, he is the center of our universe right now and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Another cool area of discovery is how our style of parenting can best be categorized (because life always fits neatly in a box) as “natural” parenting. Now, you have to understand that Patrick and I are hardly known for our organic ways (sure, we experiment occasionally with fruitarianism but more out of vanity rather than humanitarian beliefs) and yet we have let our instincts direct us toward breastfeeding (hopefully extended), co-sleeping, attachment parenting, family showers, and, uh, nakedness (King doesn’t wear any clothes unless we take him outside). I am probably losing all of you who aren’t parents or soon-to-be parents so if you would like to talk more about mommyhood, you can always contact me or leave a comment somewhere.
I'll bow out gracefully with this:
Gentle, cute-as-a-button, love of my life, worth every stretch mark, my everything, perfect.