“The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that – a parent’s heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”
Dear Reagan,
On July 9, 2013 at 12:42 a.m., we met each other face to face. 8 pounds, 9 ounces. 20.8 inches long. You were perfect. Absolutely beautiful in every way. From your chubby little cheeks to your long legs to your scrunched forehead to your bright eyes, you were the best combination of Daddy and me.
Your birth didn’t go exactly according to plan, but the result was you, which was, in retrospect, the only plan.
On the night of Sunday, July 7, 2013 (your due date) we checked into the hospital to be induced. That day we were going stir crazy. We went to brunch with friends. Ran errands. Went to a movie from which we left early because I thought I was having contractions (I wasn’t). Walked the block. Watched a TV marathon. The anticipation of your upcoming arrival consumed our every thought, but we attempted to distract ourselves. It didn’t work.
As we drove to the hospital for the last time as a family of two, we grappled to dwell in the moment — to allow it to sink in that this was the beginning of the biggest thing to happen to us yet. 9 months of waiting. Each day talking about you to each other. Dreaming of holding you. Wondering what color your hair would be or how much you would weigh. Reading stories to you. Telling you that we loved you before you were born and would see you soon. This was the beginning of a monumental week. We didn’t want to just let it happen to us. We want to experience it. We wanted to soak up everything. It is not often that you know your life is changing as it is changing. Usually it is something that just happens and passes you by. For those few life changers that you get to anticipate, immerse yourself.
When we arrived at the hospital, I was given prostagladins and told to get a good night sleep. That night we prayed for you one last time before bed. Prayed that you would arrive safe. Prayed for your health. Prayed for us to be the parents you deserved.
The next morning we were brought to labor and delivery at around 8 a.m. wherein I received Pitocin to jump start contractions. Things progressed at a slow rate. By noon, I had a little cramping but nothing too painful (other than being starving for food). Your grandparents were already camped out in the waiting room. Every so often they would come by the room to chat. We spent the morning talking about meeting you, watching a little day time television, and resting. At around 2 p.m., our doctor recommended that we increase the Pitocin and that I get my epidural. By 6 p.m. I was only 2 centimeters dilated and discouraged. Once again, they increased the Pitocin. I watched your Dad eat sushi (my biggest pregnancy craving that I was not allowed to indulge in) and begged you to arrive so I could meet you (and eat some food!). Then at 9 p.m., our doctor gave us the best news we could have asked for — I was 10 centimeters and it was time to push.
I know they call it “labor” for a reason, but pushing felt like running a marathon. It was exhausting but exhilarating. I will never forget when the nurse told us she could see your head. I will never forget when I asked her if she could tell your hair color. I will never forget when she told us that it was brown.
I pushed and pushed for 2.5 hours. Daddy held my hand the whole time. He told me that he loved me. He thanked me for carrying you around for 9 months. He kissed my forehead. He made me breathe. The nurse told us you were low, but thought you had stopped progressing . She called for the doctor who told us you had turned to face “sunny side up.” She recommended that we discuss a C-Section. I told her that I wanted to try a little longer — that I really did not want a C-Section. I pushed again — more determined than ever to get you out. After another half hour of pushing, nothing changed.
We decided it was time to meet you. I had the C-Section. I don’t remember much because I was a bit out of it, but I do remember a few things. I remember Daddy holding my hand. I remember him telling me that we were going to meet you so soon. I remember the doctor saying I would feel some pressure. I remember hearing you cry. I remember looking at the clock and reading 12:42 a.m. I remember asking if you were okay. I remember the nurse introducing you to me. I remember see your dark hair. I remember thinking how absolutely beautiful and perfect you were. I remember Daddy holding you. I remember the moment I saw my husband become a father. I remember touching your little hands. I remember the overwhelming feeling of joy.
After the doctors sewed me back up, they wheeled me back to our room with you in my arms. Thereafter, you met your family. They were enamored with you.
Daddy gave me my “push present” — a Cartier Love Bracelet. Your Mimi was given one after Daddy was born. It represents the fact that we will forever be a family. That we will forever be in love.
It has been 6 weeks since you were born. It took me a while to write this post (you have been keeping me very busy!), but suffice it to say we are so very much in love with you. I fall in love with you more and more every day.
More about our first weeks of life together to come.
I love you forever and always,
Mom
Van Plus Fam 