Asher's Story

Sometime in April 2010 me and my husband had made the long awaited decision to try to have a child. We had spoke on the subject even before we were married. We waited the typical year or two, which I would not have traded for anything. Having time with just my spouse, and two stupid dogs, is something many people don't get anymore, especially women. I can't imagine being a single parent, but thats for another blog. Anyways, 2 great years later we decided it was baby time. And apparently god agreed because a month or so later I was pregnant.
I had just finished work around 3pm it was a beautiful day in July. I wanted to sit out on the deck and indulge in a cocktail while waiting for Matt to come home and something told me to just check and make sure I wasn't "with child". Three pregnancy tests later I found myself staring in the bathroom mirror trying to recognize my own face. Did it look different? My face that is. Did I look pregnant, like a mom? No. I looked like me, without the cocktail I wanted. Without a cocktail for 9 months, or a cigarette. Like me but ever so slowly getting fatter. like me, only not knowing what the hell I am doing.
I text Matt at work simply telling him he needed to get home because I was having a meltdown. In hindsight I can see why that would freak him out and make him think someone tragic had happened. In the meantime I started pacing the house, jumping for joy, and trying not to cry hysterically. I was happy, but scared. I thought when Matt got home everything would be fine. Not the case. He ran into the house and I pulled out the test and showed him it. He was silent until he said "Megan, I thought someone died!" for the next 3 days he barley spoke about it. Not the reaction I was looking for, but it was probably not the way he wanted to be told either. We did call and see a lot of people to let them know we were expecting, so I suppose there was some initial excitement.
After Matt got over his shock he began to talk about it. About the sametime I started barfing. If morning sickness doesn't make you wish you would have waited longer to get pregnant I don't know what would. I threw up brushing my teeth, driving, mid sentence, pretty much whenever my body felt like it until around 16 weeks. Then magically it stopped. With a blissfully easy 2nd trimester came the ultrasound telling us our baby was a healthy boy chewing on his feet. 3rd trimester followed with back pain, nerve pain, exhaustion,a freezing cold snowy winter and 35 lbs heavier then last summer. My belly size was a constant 4-5 weeks bigger then it should have been. Really no explanation for it but it sure made me miserable.so if you wanted to know what a pregnant lady looks like If the baby was to be in her belly for 44 weeks you should have seen me at 39 weeks right before I had him. Every time baby would stretch out he would almost crack my rib. We were sure he would come out a 25lb toddler.

The morning of...
5am on march 20th I woke up having to pee. This being nothing out of the ordinary Matt slept through it. Until I came back into the room to tell him ( in an effort to keep this less graphic) that I needed to call the hospital because I think we are having the baby. The hospital advised us to go walk to start contractions so we went to walmart and the mall. We found out that if you get to the mall before it opens the mall walkers are there and they set up cones like a track. They lapped us, a lot. I had to stop every three minutes to breathe through a contraction. I am sure everyone was looking at me thinking, my god why won't someone take that poor woman to the hospital? Eventually, after I ate some subway from the food court, we did go to the hospital. At 11 am I was 3 centimeters and having major back labor. Baby boy was coming out sunny side up ( facing upwards) which is less then ideal. We tried everything they said to get him to flip, nothing worked. By 3pm they had talked me into taking numorphin. it helped me relax and eventually made my contrations stop. I wanted so badly to have this baby so contrations flat out stopping was not an option. At one point I prayed to let them start again so they wouldnt send me home. A half our later and about 20 laps around the birth center later the contractions were back, and they hit like a mack truck. I cried through most of them, forgot to breathe, and was begging for relief. My birth plan was to wait until i was 6 centimeters before an epidural. Why six? I have no idea.I wanted to prove to myself I wasn't a wuss, but when it comes to labor, I found, with the help of the nurses and my husband, that it was ok to be a wuss. Its ok to have a baby with less pain. I would never have surgery without getting knocked out, so why try and be a super hero while pushing a human being out of my body.
The nerdy doctor with the epidural was a little OCD about telling me step by step what he was doing. Sure I wanna know whats going on but damn, just do it already. He yelled at matt for touching the top of my shoulder blade and had to resteralize my back, if I wasn't having a baby I would have laughed at that. Poor Matt, just trying to be a good coach. When he finally finished he pushed the magic button and said he would be back in 20 min to check on me. 20 min later and 20 contractions worth of pain nerdy doctor made his way back to my room. "can you feel this" "yes" i said. "can you lift your leg?" umm yes I thought and I nearly did a high kick.
UH Ohh.. turns out the epidural isnt working. As if having a long needle jabbed into your spine isn't bad enough try sitting still for it while going through horrific contractions, TWICE. Long story short, he hit 2 nerves sending me flying uncontrollably almost off the bed, thank god for matt keeping me off the floor, the make up that I insisted on wearing to the hospital that morning (i had to look nice for pictures, right..) was now black streaks down my face that matt tried tirelessly to wipe off because he knew how ugly it made me feel having it there. the epidural was in, 6 inches worth, which apparently is really deep, but hey, it worked.
My doctor, who i had never met, came in once i was relaxed, broke my water, i was at 6 centimeters, and she told us to get some sleep. It was around 11 pm when we both fell asleep. I don't remember sleeping, but all of a sudden i opened my eyes still in the hospital feeling a lot,and i mean a lot, of pressue. I yelled at matt that something was wrong and to go get the nurse. He did, she checked me and I was at a 10. i had gone from a 6 to a 10 in 1 hour and i slept through it. Everyone says thats great, i say imagine waking up from a nap with someone telling you to push out a baby.
I pushed on my back and on my sides, I was constantly moving. the worst part? the epidural didnt work for the pushing, i felt everything. With every push matt would tell me that it was the last one. We joke about it now, but at the time his words, wether they were a lie or not,were the only thing getting me through the pain. Many times i had made peace with the idea of just not pushing anymore, part of me wanted to tell the nurse, "you cant make me". Instead I just listened to Matt. They say pushing is relieving,not for me, i was perfectly content with him staying in my belly and avoiding this pain. but as human nature would have it eventually his head came out, which to me meant my work was done. I layed back and relaxed just taking in my efforts for a second until Matt yelled that i wasn't done, i had to get his shoulders out. well crap, ok one more, and thats all it took. Asher had made his arrival. He even at the last minute flipped the right way. They placed my screaming, gooey, little boy on my chest and started cleaning him off. A feeling of complete helplessness and joy overwhelmed me. I was a mommy, Matt was a daddy, we were parents. All i managed to repeatedly say through my sobbing was "look at him, look at him" Matt had his moment with Asher when he was brought over to the warmer. Asher grasped onto Matts finger, and he was in love.
Asher Jonas had 10 fingers and 10 toes, a head full of hair, and a life of possibility. Born after an hour and a half of pushing and 22 hours of labor at 2:03 am 3-21-11. 7lbs 13 oz. As i sat in the hospital, still in pain, anxious and scared, i waited for that moment, that feeling of unconditional love to set in. I waited and waited, until that next night, in the silence and darkness of the sterile hospital room I stared at my son. Swaddled in a blanket sleeping. I started sobbing. Apologizing for all the things I didn't do right, all of the things I cant give him, and promising him, with the deepest part of me, that I would do my absolute best to love him, take care of him, and show him the grace of god. I held his tiny hand knowing that my motherhood moment wasn't born out of sheer joy, but out of an animalistic instinct to protect and nurture my son. I had already loved him long before he was born, I was a mother the minute that test said positive. I just needed to tell Asher that.

Decision to start

I am a writer, or so I chose to believe. I type grammatically incorrect and probably way to fast. I write with correct punctuation and a lot of eraser marks. Im not sure which is worse. Either way I chose to tell you, the reader, this In hopes that you don't judge my misuse of punctuation and spelling errors and chose to see what I am writing rather then how. My blog probably won't make sense as it will be a random jumble of thoughts, stories, and questions.
Here goes...