Henry’s Birth Story

I’m sitting here with my infant by my side in his Boppy and I can hardly believe it’s been a little over 2 months now that he’s been in our lives- you know outside the womb as it were. This post isn’t about decor or interiors but I wanted to share his birth story with you since it’s one of the craziest most terrifyingly beautiful moments of my life.

Henry’s birth story is quite different from that of my first child Freddy’s birth. Having an emergency C- section the first time around wasn’t exactly what I had planned, but after 2 hours of pushing, my poor kiddo just wasn’t coming. He had decided that he wanted to show us his beautiful face first and let’s face it (sorry for the pun) babies aren’t exactly supposed to come out like that and he was stuck. So into surgery I went. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that the guilt came and the feeling of being cheated somehow– that I couldn’t “give birth” so to speak. Now, I know c-sections are a way of giving birth but I managed to convince myself that I hadn’t done a damn thing to get the baby out. I convinced myself there was some sort of cool club I had been excluded from and I wanted in.

This time around I was given the green light by my doctor that if I wanted to, I could go for a VBAC. Yes, that meant going for a vaginal birth. There, I said it. Va-gi-na. And let me tell you, I was thrilled to be able to have another go at it. After 2 years, I still felt the need to prove something to myself, that I could do it. And since the doctor explained that there was nothing wrong with my anatomy, I had a good chance of having a successful go.

As the months went on, I did waver back and forth between the two choices. Having had a C-section was not bad for me and I knew what to expect. To everyone around me, it was the best and easiest choice. In the end, I knew in my heart though that I had to at least try. My husband agreed and with his support, I decided to go ahead and plan for a VBAC. In case the baby was going to go past my due date, I had a back up C-section scheduled, coincidentally, on my husband’s birthday.

I had so many questions and worries with a VBAC. One concern was that I had to go into labor on my own. No induction. Nada. So in the weeks leading up to my due date, I waited… and ate pineapple and spicy food and did the things that supposedly induces labor… all to no avail. I was getting increasingly anxious.

And then it happened 3 days before my due date. At about 4:15 a.m. I woke up to use the bathroom for what felt like the 57th time that night and then there it- a craving for the mint chip ice cream. It was a good thing we had some in the house or I may have gone out for it like a woman on a mission. How could I possibly want ice cream at that hour? Same reason I made my dear sweet husband drive 10 hours round trip to Pennsylvania during my first pregnancy to get me some shoo fly pie. Cravings are a very real thing and need to be addressed immediately. So at 4:20, I very quietly sat on the sofa watching Law and Order SVU eating my ice cream and trying desperately not to wake my husband who was sleeping soundly on a mattress on the floor next to the sofa (and had been for about a month– long story). Not sure why I thought I had to hide the fact I was eating ice cream, but there I was enjoying the hell out of my guilty 4am pleasure. I managed not to wake him, but my dog Charlie was up and pacing which is not like her at all. She’s a pretty sound sleeper. But she came over to me, no doubt looking for some scraps I thought. Mint chip ice cream usually isn’t her thing but looking back, I think it was more than that. She knew something– something was coming. And then… BAM my first contraction. And like any mom awaiting her baby to arrive, I wasn’t 100% sure at first. I was maybe 97% sure though and by the 3rd one, I was 110% sure.

I gently woke my sleeping beauty and he immediately jumped up. Game time! I remember thinking to myself… geez he’s really alert for just having been woken suddenly. Good job Babe- that made me feel super supported.

Now to get ready. Bags had been packed the week before- so that wasn’t it. Shower! I had to shower! Seriously what the hell was I thinking? I had just showered the night before but I guess I needed to be fresh as a daisy for the good old doctor…? I didn’t put makeup on- but having had my eyelash extensions retouched only a few days before, I was feeling confident that I’d be camera ready in the moments after the birth. Yes, I was that vain. Sue me.

As Craig was making coffee, I took a minute to put my push present on and my monogram H earrings (for little Henry) and breathed in the moment. We were gonna meet our son soon. But just like that another contraction came and the moment was interrupted and I felt this overwhelming feeling of “shit we need to get outta here.” It was about 5am at this point and we still needed to get our son up and get everyone (he and the dogs) to my Mother in Law’s house who lives 30 minutes away. The hospital is another 25 minutes from her. OY!

Against my husband’s wishes, we decided to take the Long Island Expressway after dropping everyone off (instead of the back way). Bad idea at 5:30/6am. Traffic! Have I mentioned there is ALWAYS traffic on Long Island?? At this point my contractions were about 6 minutes apart and I thought ” Oh f*ck, if we don’t get there, I may have this baby in my Acura– with NO epidural.” and “thank God we didn’t stop to get bagels and coffee.” I was pretty panicked. A car birth was not in my plan.

To get my mind off the contractions and the worrying that we might not get to the hospital I tried to get myself in the moment again. I clearly remember passing underneath an over pass and just relishing in the fact that soon we would be a family of 4. I never want to forget those moments of precious anticipation (as someone once described it). We eventually made it to the hospital where we were met by my best friend Dawn who was going to be my birth coach along with Craig. My dream team.

And so it began- cra-zy contractions. Where the F*CK was that epidural? It came. Eventually. And the pain lessened but not that much–not like I had expected having had an epidural with my first pregnancy. The doctor had said my labor was progressing (no shit…) and she would be coming in again shortly to break my water. Fun times. But not 2 minutes after she left the room, while sitting and chatting with my hubs and my bestie, we heard a pop from the monitor I had strapped to my belly. My water broke. Shortly after that, it was showtime.

And so the pushing and screaming began. Oh the screaming. The screaming helped ease the pain because I honestly didn’t think I could do it. Who the hell was I kidding? I didn’t want to do it. I wanted a C-section. Give me the knife! But nope it was wayyyy to late for that. He really was so close to coming.

Throughout the whole birth, I kept saying “I can’t do this” until the doctor, who I’m sure was fed up with my “I can’t” BS, gave me a pep talk/stern talking to. But I wasn’t drinking the Kool- Aid she was trying to feed me. All the encouragement and cheering from my coaches and nurses and doctors couldn’t put me in the frame of mind to get the job done. I had to take a minute and harness the strength from somewhere deep in me. I don’t know where it came from- but there it was all of a sudden and then there he was. My baby boy was out and on my chest. It was the most surreal moment of my life because I had done it. I had done what seemed like impossible. And in those moments the pain and pressure of the birthing process was over. I was looking at this beautiful little creature that I had carried for 9 months and had willed out of my body. I know, billions of woman have done this but for me, in that moment, I felt really proud of myself. Henry looked at me and I welcomed him with the words “Hi baby!” And just like that we were a family of 4.