I keep going back to November 10th and 11th. The day I went into labor and the day my daughter was born. It’s always in the back of my mind, and very often in the front.
The first time I slept after her birth, I dreamt of labor. I was completely in shock, I had no idea how very painful it would be! The pressure, oh the pressure. It still hurts to think about, makes my stomach turn.
Don’t even get me started on the ring of fire.
And then there is everything that could have gone wrong that didn’t. God knows what he is doing. He brought us to our midwife, he brought us to a homebirth. He brought us there and I can see why now. And he sustained both Squishy and me during 7 hours of active labor and 2 hours of pushing. He brought her safely to us.
And only afterward did I know that it all could have gone terribly wrong. But it didn’t. It didn’t. It didn’t. (That’s what I have to keep telling myself).
I didn’t know how that day would change me. I didn’t know that it would change who I am on a fundamental level. It was kind of traumatic. But not in a bad way. I’m still processing it and trying to understand what happened.
I think back on 2011. I got pregnant. I spent most of the year pregnant. And then I got un-pregnant. It was a long, trying, beautiful, painful, highly anticipated, and amazing year.
2012? That’s for another day. I’m off to make the most pitiful little face happy again.