Journal Entry

Memorable mommy moments: Finally a child of our own

My first child was not in fact my first pregnancy, which made this pregnancy that much more special. I had four miscarriages prior to this pregnancy so you can imagine our fear and elation to learn just days after our 10th wedding anniversary that we were expecting once again.

After having experienced so many losses, we had begun treatment with a reproductive endocrinologist. Thus far no definitive cause for our losses could be found and at the urging of our physician we decided to take a break and then try a different treatment for a possible underlying cause. This was that break. My body was free of any potential pregnancy-saving hormones. I was in a state of panic.

I reached for the phone to call my husband, who was working that afternoon.

“I have good news and bad news,” I said.

“Is everything OK?” He asked.

“Well, I’m pregnant and scared. I can’t lose another baby.”

My previous pregnancy had been my hardest. At only eight weeks I saw the baby and its tiny little heartbeat, only to lose it two weeks later.

Monday morning, I found myself in the office of my reproductive endocrinologist. She confirmed that I was indeed expecting and immediately gave me a shot of progesterone and a prescription to take until my twelfth week of pregnancy.

The days went by slowly as I struggled to maintain my sanity. With every trip to the bathroom I expected to see a sign that this pregnancy was doomed, but it didn’t happen. The doctor, ever-vigilant, ordered weekly ultra sounds so we could monitor the progress of the baby. And each one was a blessing. I saw my baby’s first wiggle, first wave, but mostly I saw a miracle.

Twelve weeks finally came and it was time to leave the care of my reproductive endocrinologist and begin my care under an OB/GYN. I cried. Would this doctor care as much? Would the nurses be as supportive?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out. At thirteen weeks I began bleeding and thought, “This is it, it’s over.” I called my new doctor’s office and was assured that I could come in right away. Once there, the nurse took me to the ultrasound room where I once again was blessed with seeing my baby on the screen. So tiny and so perfect—I couldn’t believe it and still can’t. The nurse assured me that at anytime, if I was concerned I could come in and listen to the soothing tones of my baby’s heartbeat.

The remaining months of my pregnancy went off without a hitch. God watched over us the entire time. He knew that I had endured so much that He blessed me with a smooth pregnancy. No morning sickness kept me down nor did any other typical pregnancy symptom rear its ugly head. About six months into the pregnancy, my husband and I were treated to magical words.

“You are having a boy.”

The nursery was prepared, with the walls painted a perfect yellow and blue for my perfect baby boy. His crib was ready with his linens clean, waiting for his tiny little body.

I woke up just a few minutes before my alarm, feeling a bit crampy but nothing too severe, and began my morning routine; but, this time I decided to monitor my cramps. They averaged about three to four minutes apart. I didn’t have the same intensity each time, so didn’t feel the need to be alarmed; but, I told my husband anyway. He urged me to call my doctor, which I did, but assured my husband I was still going to work.

The nurse promptly took my call and suggested that it would probably be a good idea to come in, just in case. I called my office to inform them that I would be late.

“You aren’t having that baby today!” my office manager laughed as we ended the phone call.

We arrived at the doctor’s office just after nine. The nurse hooked me up to all kinds of wires trying to determine the types of contractions I was having. All the while the only thing it seemed to be monitoring was sporadic hiccups from the baby. The cramps I’d been having all morning seemed to have completely disappeared. We were going home and I was going to work, just as I had suspected…or so we thought. After waiting what seemed an eternity, my doctor walked into the room, read the scrawl that had come across the machines tape and finally performed a pelvic exam.

“We’re having a baby today” he said.

“What?” I stammered. “We can’t be.”

It seemed that whatever exam he had done had excited my cervix, because now my cramps were for contractions, tolerable, but contractions nonetheless. I got dressed and my husband and I walked across the atrium that separated the doctor’s office from the birthing hospital. A nurse checked me out and informed me that I was about 4 cm dilated and she would be sending in the anesthesiologist shortly for my epidural.

My husband jumped on his cell and called our parents. The nurses kept checking in throughout the day. At three o’clock, the nurse said, “I will come back in a few minutes and then we will start pushing..”

Ten minutes ticked by. The nurse re-entered the room and began to set the bed up. This was really happening I kept telling myself. I’m about to be a mom

“The doctor should be here any minute but we will go ahead and get started,” the nurse stated.

With all my might I pushed as my husband held my hand and counted, once, twice, three times.

“OK lets stop for a minute,” the nurse said. “OK, are you ready? Push again for me.”

Again my husband held my hand. The doctor walked into the room finally while I continued to push.

“Are you ready for me?” He asked.

“Almost,” the nurse replied.

Turning towards me, he yelled “Wait for me I’m not ready yet!” and struggled to put his remaining garments on. Taking his position, the doctor told me to push again, then one more time. Then he told me to push for the last time; and, as I did I heard the most precious sound. My baby boy’s first cry.

The nurses bundled him up and placed him on my chest. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And he had a pair of lungs on him, too. The nurse took him over to be weighed, fingerprinted and poked. I saw him one more time before he and Daddy were whisked off to the nursery to be cleaned up. I could still hear him in the nursery.

Two days later, we came home. It was Easter and bitterly cold. Bundled up, my husband placed his brand-new family into our car and drove home. We were finally a family. After so much heartache, our dream had finally been realized in a six-pound baby boy. We walked into our home and into our new baby’s room. No longer just an empty room hopeful for a child, it would now hold one.

I sat in the rocking chair holding my new baby and wept. My husband embraced me and together we cried. Through our tears and through the tiny little body that was in my arms, our hearts were healed.