I had multiple evenings where the sheer panic would overwhelm me and Clark would have to hold me until I felt better.
I had no desire to tell people about it, I felt embarrassed by questions relating to my pregnancy, and I did not even like to be around other people's babies because it would make me feel anxious and afraid.
I was worried about losing my carefully honed coping skills -- especially my current ability to dive into a tough workout or go for a 30-mile bike ride when I was stressed. I worried about how my life would change by "starting over" with a new baby. I hated the idea of being pregnant to full term because I'd done it before and I had not forgotten about the hip pain and the isolation and the loss of mobility and the heartburn and the sleep deprivation.
More than anything though, I avoided thinking about the labor and delivery. I never forgot the pain and near hysteria I experienced while in labor with Nadine. She came very quickly, I felt like no one was listening to me, the pain was unreal, and there was no time to prepare. I was in physical shock after she was delivered, and I struggled to recover mentally from that experience for a long time afterward.
I dealt with these feelings during the first half of my pregnancy by trying to ignore the situation. I did not want to buy baby clothes or gear, I did not like thinking about preparing for this new person in my life, and I tried to just go about my life as usual. During the back half, the physical reality couldn't be ignored anymore, so I tried to focus on resolving some of my feelings so that hopefully I wouldn't be a complete basket case by the time baby actually arrived.
In the last few weeks before delivery, my anxiety started to ramp up again. A big factor that influenced my mood was how the baby was growing -- the pattern was eerily similar to my previous pregnancies. Baby was measuring big, and I started to worry that I would go into labor and feel no sense of control over the process.
I requested to be induced because I have had big babies before, and I was afraid of going too long and having my baby be even bigger. The doctor agreed to schedule an induction at 39 weeks, but the hospital was too busy to allow it, and they kept pushing the date further out. The feeling of not being in control escalated.
On Friday, April 23rd, I asked Clark to give me a blessing. I was 38 weeks and five days. He blessed me to be able to see God's timing and trust in the Lord that everything would be okay. He blessed me to focus on things that would help me to be positive and give me comfort. I admit that I tried to hear the words, but what I really wanted was to be blessed that I would go into labor, and I was annoyed to hear that I needed to be patient.
Over that weekend, I thought a lot about the words of the blessing, and I thought about the week ahead, with the induction being pushed out to who-knows-when, and I resolved that I could do it for just a little longer, that everything would be okay, and that the time would pass. On Saturday, I listened to Clark sing at an evening church service, and that helped me to feel calmer. By Sunday, I was in a better place.
Sunday evening, I put the kids in bed, Clark left for work and took my time getting ready for bed. The thought came to my mind around 10PM, just before I was about to lay down, that maybe I should eat something. I don't usually eat that late, but I went downstairs and had a bowl of cereal anyway. I went to bed and fell asleep.
I woke up at 11:25 PM to a warm gush of liquid on the bed. I was in the twilight zone, but eventually, I realized my water had broken. I called Clark, who said he had a burglar in his backseat and had to drop him off first before coming home. I called my mother-in-law to see what to do. She lives about 1.5 hours away, so I told her I'd look to see if anyone closer was awake who could come to stay at the house until morning. A friend from church was still up, and she came over.
Clark picked me up and we drove to the hospital. I was having slight contractions, but nothing severe. We got checked into a room, hooked up all the monitors, got my IV in, and by about 2 AM contractions were starting to get more intense. They checked me and I was at about a 3.
Because I had such fast labor with Nadine (from start to finish was 7 hours), I was super worried about not having time to get an epidural (with Dini, I was at a 3 for most of that time, then dilated from 3-10 in the space of about 50 minutes, so it was too late for pain meds). I just really wanted to avoid the intensity and panic I felt with her, so at about 4 AM, I got an epidural. I could still feel contractions for the majority of the labor after they placed it, but they were much milder. I was able to sleep a bit, which was good because I'd already been up basically all night.
They checked me periodically through the morning, and my dilation was steady. By 11:15, I was at a 10. The nurse called the doctor to come in and the birth team got everything ready. I was able to start pushing at about 11:45. Peter was born at 11:52 AM, so just over 12 hours after my water broke.
The most amazing thing happened when he was born. They laid him on my tummy (his cord was pretty short, so he couldn't reach my chest until they cut it), and I just had this feeling that he and I were in this together. Like his little person was there to help me and I was there to help him, and I couldn't have gotten to where I was in my mental health or healing or anything without him, and he couldn't have gotten here on Earth without me. It was such a wonderful thing to feel after so many months of working through feelings of anxiety, apprehension, sadness, and fear.
We named him Peter because of Simon Peter, and also because of the meaning of the name Peter, which is "Rock". I needed a firmer foundation, I needed to face some things I had been unwilling to face, and this pregnancy and birth experience forced me to face them all, and I'm a stronger person, a better mother, because of it. I have more confidence in myself, and I'm less focused on appearing and more focused on becoming and being.
I'm too stoic and cynical to subscribe to simplistic spiritual platitudes like "everything happens for a reason," but I do think that, despite the toll on my physical health and the changes to my body, and the sacrifices I had to make because of this pregnancy, I needed to experience this in order to develop increased direction and self-actualization in my life.
