9 days past my due date, I woke up at midnight to some mild abdominal cramping. After weeks of false labor though, I was reluctant to believe that this may lead to anything productive. In fact, I had almost resigned myself to the induced delivery which my midwife had already scheduled me for on the following Tuesday. I was ready to say goodbye to my dream of an unmedicated, birth-center birth. As the waves continued into the morning though, I became hesitantly hopeful. I hadn't slept all night.
Justin and I knew we always wanted a child; only one, and he always dreamed of a little girl. We had been together for 10 years, married for 2, bought a home, both had good jobs and of course the questions of when we were going to have kids was asked often. In our mind we were still young; unsure if we were financially stable enough for a child, but always knew we would someday.
My name is Sara. I'm 29 years old and the mother of an amazing beautiful baby boy named Kaiden and I'm also the wife of his just as amazing father, Jon. I met Jon when I was 19. We bought our first house in August of 2008. We decided that we wanted a baby more than anything. Marriage to us was not a priority in our book, being parents was. I knew no matter the outcome of mine and Jon's relationship that he would be the greatest father to any child. In October of that year we had decided that I would stop taking my birth control in an attempt to get pregnant. We did get married October 20th 2012. By this time we had been trying for over 4 years. We tried for another year and a half before we decided enough was enough and we needed to find out why we were still not pregnant.
Becoming a mother was one of the most important things that I believed that I could do. I grew up in an environment where alcohol was prominent, old-fashioned corporal punishment was the norm, and emotional and physical expressions of love were doled out in measured fashion.
As I became older, and began to realize that what I had experienced as a young child was not how most families function, and as I thought about my own future, I became strongly convinced that I would not parent in the same way. More than anything, I wanted to raise my children with love and understanding. I wanted to encourage them to be respectful, and honest, and understand that perfection didn’t matter, but trying your best, and being your best would allow for the creation of a compassionate human being.
Two pink lines. A positive sign. The word "pregnant" in digital print. The official beginning of Cecelia.
The first few weeks of my pregnancy were full of anticipation, excitement, and anxiety. As we slowly told our family and close friends, the worry dissolved. Unfortunately, not too long after this, the nausea, bloating and heartburn came on full force. My first trimester was a blur of napping, constant peeing, and overdosing on Tums.
In the midst of this, we heard baby's heartbeat, at home, on the 9th week. It was the most beautiful sound.
To say I did not have a normal pregnancy would be an understatement. I was due to have Roslyn on January 24th and had a very high risk pregnancy. I was told throughout my pregnancy that when I would go into labor I would be under strict monitoring as I had a single umbilical cord artery and polyhydramnios both of which put me at increased risks for multiple complications. I also knew from my ultrasounds that my baby would need surgery immediately after birth and would have to go straight to the NICU. I remember feeling sad I would not have a normal birthing experience but also felt the strict monitoring would keep me and my baby safe throughout our delivery. I guess things never really go as planned or how they say they will though!
At some point in my pregnancy, I fell in love with my daughter. I remember being pregnant, sitting in her rocking chair, my sweet baby girl in my belly. She didn’t have a name yet, but she was my sweet, sweet girl. I remember reading her books and feeling an overwhelming amount of love for her. Tears would fill my eyes when I thought about meeting her and holding her for the first time, though in my mind, I was already her mommy.
Calling myself a "working" mama is sort of misleading. All moms are working mamas. We're always on call, working hard, and rarely (if ever) truly have days off. Perhaps instead, I should refer to myself as a "mom who works outside of the home, also". I love my job as a mom, and my work at home is never done, and doesn't help to increase the funds in my bank account every few weeks. However, you can't put a price tag on the benefits and it is, of course, profoundly rewarding.
I've always wanted to be a mother. Heck, I played with baby dolls until I was in the 8th grade! My husband and I had always talked about children, so after only two months of marriage we decided to started trying. We got pregnant immediately. Then rolled in the comments "Well you didn't waste any time!" and "What's the rush?!". We had been together 4 years and were in our mid-to-late 20s, we knew what we were getting into and we were beyond excited.
I had a perfectly routine pregnancy. I wasn't nauseous, didn't gain a whole lot of weight, and had no major issues. When it came to birth, I didn't have an exact plan and was pretty open to different options. Delivering natural was the original plan, but if the pain was too much I wasn't opposed to an epidural. After all this was my first child and I had never experienced labor before.
I am a 52 year old momma of 3. My birth experince never got off the ground. We tried for many years to get pregnent but I had endrometriosos and I was too low in one hormone and too high in another. I had hormone shots and took pills for another. Also nothing was getting through my cervex so I had artofitial inseminations for at least a solid year. Every month when my period started was a dagger to my heart. It was all consuming and all I could think about. Finally my tears ran out and I just couldn't do it any more. My husband was wonderful through the whole thing. I think he wanted to stop before I did but let me decide when to stop.
I Am Mama.
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