Four years ago today a miracle happened. Now, miracles happen everyday, but four years ago a miracle happened to me and mine.
This very precious and wonderfully crazy and slightly obnoxious little girl was born.
What is even more miraculous and amazing is that this baby was born alive and healthy. But she almost wasn’t.
My last born was an extremely active little fetus. We joked how there was a miniature Mia Hamm in my belly, constantly moving. (Although in my mind it felt a lot more like a tiny Linda Blair from The Exorcist rotating around in my body.) This little baby was a mover and a shaker.
That’s a great sign for every mother. When the baby moves we are reassured that all is going well. And it was.
Until it became time for this munchkin to vacate the premises. As usual, I needed to be induced because of some high blood pressure issues. This was my third labor and delivery, so the husband and I fully expected my cervix to pop open and this little bundle of joy to pick up her placenta and walk on out.
She didn’t. In fact, I’m pretty sure she tried to hang onto my ribs for seven hours. This baby didn’t want to budge and most of all she didn’t want to be head down.
The doctor checked all her vitals. On paper everything seemed fine, the baby was apparently stable but very stubborn. My doctor wasn’t appeased though, if anything he seemed nervous. After I was at the hospital for 10 hours hooked up to all the bells and whistles, he looked at me and said, “We could try and turn the baby. But, I think something’s not right and eventually you’re going to have a c-section. I suggest you have it now, before it becomes an emergency.”
Here is when miracle #1 happened: I didn’t freak out and panic. For perhaps the first time in my life, I remained calm in the face of adversity. My husband would like to point out that it was probably the drugs. I say… he is probably right. But still, drugs are a small miracle eh?
So after having two babies use the main doors, I finally had one who used the escape hatch. That is when we discovered that the umbilical cord had wound itself around my little girl’s neck, not once, but twice, no doubt because of all her physical activity in utero.
If we would have continued with our original plan of turning and pushing that baby out, in all likelihood she would have either suffocated or the cord would have ripped right off the placenta. I don’t like to contemplate this scenario too often.
But miraculously the doctor had a ‘feeling’ and miraculously we listened to him. And miraculously a very precious and wonderfully crazy and slightly obnoxious little girl was born.
On Mother’s Day we celebrate the miracle of being a mother. Our offspring hopefully shower us with kisses, limp toast, and soggy cereal in bed. Our husbands hopefully recognize our maternal awesomeness with cards, jewelry, or other tangible proofs of their devotion.
Today I’m celebrating by watching my four year old miracle open presents wrapped in Dora the Explorer paper. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you wonderful mothers (with or without children) who make miracles happen every. single. day.