17 Years Ago Yesterday Night
This time of night-
“My pain meds are wearing off. I’m beginning to feel these contractions.”
“Lets have a look.” Insertion of fingers. I can’t feel them but I am aware of an intrusion.
“You’re ready. Let’s get you to the OR.”
“How close to ready am I?” Mostly curiosity, I felt as if I
had been ready for all of the 6 weeks that I had been on bed rest.
She held up a finger, pointed to the 1st knuckle,
“The baby’s head is here.” With no further ado she left, calling for the
underlings to move the bed and get my Mom and husband gowned.
I wasn’t afraid of labor.
I had accepted it as the natural way of things. Since Eve women have been giving birth. It
made sense to me in the way that most logical things did. What goes up- comes down. You plant a seed- it sprouts.
A baby grows- it comes out.
Probably seems like an oversimplification but to me it was just
reasonable, no further conversation needed.
Six weeks earlier
I went into labor at 30 weeks and by the grace of God and
with the combination of some really nasty drugs we stopped it. I remember the
OBGYN looking me dead in the face and telling me that while yes, my babies
would live at 30 weeks, 1 day in the womb was like 1 week in the NICU. That
statement cut through the haze of pain, the drugs, and the frustration. It was clear that there
was no substitute for my body in this situation.
I remember going inside of my head and willing myself to
calm down. I slowed my breathing. I
calmed my heart rate. I blocked the noise the lights and the other people. I
told my body we had a job to do, to keep my babies safe, we needed to be a good hostess and keep the guests inside. I demandingly implored it to do its job and it did, I even joked with myself that it was as simple as keeping my knees together. Soon my heart rate slowed, my body relaxed, the
tension left and my contractions abated. My labor stopped. I was sent home on complete bed rest
with a regime of drugs to ensure the health of both my twins and myself.
I took the drugs. I visited the doctor. I read. I waited. I
watched a lot of Baby Story on TLC. I let my babies grow. Six weeks later I was
told it was safe for them to be born.
Back to this time 17 years ago
As vivid as the birth still is, I don’t remember pain with
labor. I remember a sense of purpose. Again my self-talk was critical.
“Ok Amy,
it’s you and the babies. It’s going to be just as wretched for you to get them
out as it will be for them to exit. Lets
work together. Come on body, we can do
this. Come on babies we can do this.”
I remember visualizing the journey the
babies were making as I was “baring down”. I remember thinking about the progress
that each contraction was causing. Laughing a bit in my head about the idea
that if I don’t push down they may try to swim back up and as I was over
hospitals that was a not an option. I liked to think that the kids saw humor in
that situation too.
And then a break in pressure, a release, twin A was born.
She did not initially cry. To this day she hates to cry in public, then a soft
whimper. I started questioning the
doctor. “How many fingers? Toes? What does she look like? Can I see her?”
“You realize you’re not done yet. Can you pay attention please?”
I like to think I rolled my eyes at the anesthesiologist.
Obviously I wasn’t done- like I didn’t know I was carrying twins. I must have
given him a dirty look because my Mom answered.
“10. 10. Perfect. And the nurses have to check her first.”
Good ole’ Moms. They totally say the
right thing.
In the meantime my cervix had closed. The doctor started to explain to me that no one knew how long it would take my cervix to reopen and that they were probably going to
take me back to the room. I toyed with
the idea of having twins with different birthdays. Then I realized that that would mean waiting another 2 hours and I dismissed the idea.
I had another conversation with my body. This one short and simple, “Let’s do this.”
My contractions started again and 15 minutes after my daughter, my son was
born. He came out protesting the
world loudly and promptly peed on the anesthesiologist. I thought that was funny too.
My
son they displayed to me but I didn’t get to hold him either. I had torn deeply
and required stitches. The babies went to the nursery and I got put back
together. When I met them a few hours
later I marveled at the fact that what was once inside was now outside and it
couldn’t ever be the same again.
I was proud of my body that day. I was proud of the perfect response to
superhuman demands. I was proud of my
twins. They fought along side me to enter this world. It was our first battle
together and we came out of it like champions.
Real Time
As I drive home tonight I look in my rear view mirror. It’s cold outside, snowing in fact, on this
last day of April. In the car Maxwell’s voice caresses your soul while the
temperature in the car is perfectly toasty. My daughter is asleep in the
backseat while my son tries valiantly to stay awake.
My mind flashes a million scenes just like this one; me
driving at night with my music blaring, them asleep or on the way to sleep in
the backseat (they always sit in the back. always). I think of all the battles
we have come through together, just the three of us. Good ones, bad ones, fun ones, really really
painful ones. It’s been the three of us since they were 3. Many of our nights have
ended with neo-soul, a car ride, and the twins asleep in the back seat.
I have had these wonderful beings 6,205 days, or 204 months, or 17 years to
this day. In 24 months they will be legal
adults. Today was a fundamental shift in our relationship. On their 16th birthday they
started work. For the first time in
their lives they will answer to an authority figure other than I. One that I cannot protect them from nor
influence in their favor. They are on the cusp of adulthood starting jobs and
choosing career paths- saving money and preparing to leave home. To leave me.
But as with their birth, I understand that it is the natural order of things.
It is time for them to begin to crack their chrysalis and fly. I’m good with
that. I haven’t done many things well
but I have tried like crazy to be a good Mom. I trust my parenting and their
good sense as they begin their journey. They will be fine.
In this moment though, in the car, all I can do is reflect
on all the battles we have forged, starting with their birth and into now. I am
humbled, I am proud, my heart is throbbing with the magnitude of the gift that
I have been given to be able to walk this path with these little people.
They came along at a time when I was lost and forced me to
find my way. Parenting has taught me humility, patience, self-sacrifice, joy,
practicality, planning, love, forgiveness, mercy, justice, and so much more. It
humbles me that I got to be along for the ride. What a gift.
I am excited for them as they begin to direct their own
worlds and I simply become a consultant. This has been a dynamic 17 years of a
grand adventures with the best companions one could ask for. They’ve done good.
And so have I.
-Dewb
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