The Beginning

Eleven years ago right now, I was lying in a hospital bed in Oregon waiting for Ethan to make his grand appearance.   Here's how this journey through motherhood all began...

 Off to the hospital -- 24 June 2003

Eugene, OR

Bright and early on the morning of June 24th, Scott and I headed over to the hospital to be induced with our firstborn in the wilderness.  Hahaha.  I was due on the 30th, but our doctor was going out of town and we really wanted him to be the doctor for the delivery.  I know that sounds kind of ridiculous, but I was really nervous about having the baby and we felt confident in Dr. QB's hands.  So, an induction for the 24th was scheduled.  Part of the reason we wanted the same doctor for the delivery that we had seen throughout the pregnancy was because I had developed a condition called polyhydramnios early on and was measuring a lot farther along than I actually was by the very end.  We were worried about Ethan getting any bigger and thus making things more difficult, so we went ahead and scheduled the induction and hoped for the best.  At this point in time, I was already 3cm dilated and 65% effaced, so we thought everything would go smoothly and quickly once we were there.

Unfortunately, we thought kind of wrong.  While the majority of the day was low-key enough -- Scott and I were even quizzing each other with Trivial Pursuit cards at one point -- the night turned dramatic as the hours wore on and the real work of pushing began.  At this point, my epidural had started to wear off and Ethan was not budging at all.  To be quite honest with you, it was the most excruciating pain I had ever experienced in my life.  The pushing started around 10 that night and as we ticked past midnight, we eventually reached a point of now or never -- never meaning I was not going to push this baby out and we'd need an emergency c-section instead because his vitals were starting to suffer.  We opted for one more last-ditch effort before going under the knife, and -- in true Ethan fashion -- he continued his resistance until the very end when he was finally born via vacuum extractor after 2+ hours of pushing. 

 Look at that cute little conehead!

It was 12:24 AM on June 25, 2003 that Ethan officially made his appearance.  I was seriously in so much pain and so traumatized by the whole delivery that I honestly wasn't thinking about the baby at all by the time he finally came out.  Isn't that horrible???  As soon as he arrived, the nurses rushed to check him out and even though I was surrounded by a personal fog of trauma, I'll never forget the first time I heard his precious little plaintive cry.  It was seriously so cute.  I literally had the thought, "I could NEVER get tired of hearing that sound!"  Hahahaha. 

The rest of the hospital stay was a bit of a blur that continued on in the same vein as the delivery.  We discovered that Ethan had broken his collarbone at some point during labor and delivery -- which was probably what made the pushing so prolonged and difficult -- and even though I had been set on nursing him exclusively, it wasn't long before I realized that it was a lot harder than it looks and that every position I tried to hold him in seemed to hurt him due to his injury.  To cap it off, he also had a giant, oozing hematoma on the top off his head from the vacuum extractor and I was an emotional, hormonal wreck who was also experiencing the physical pain and injury of recovery after childbirth. 

I will never forget the nurse who came in on one of those nights and was the truest angel of mercy possible as she hugged me and told me that Ethan would be TOTALLY fine if all he ever had was formula.  I can't tell you the relief I felt and the burden that was temporarily lifted once I realized that I didn't have to nurse him.  {Although, I also can't tell you how much of a failure I felt for MONTHS afterward that I gave up on trying before I had even left the hospital.} 

 He was also a bit jaundiced and had to spend some time under the bili lights.

 Cute little Amy with baby Ethan.  She was 12 that summer and I'm sure the birth was traumatizing for her as well as she waited with my mom in the hall outside our hospital room and listened to my screams and cries.  Yikes.  Sorry Amy!

 Going home day!

It was several days before my extreme weepiness and emotions subsided, but as I look back and think on that period of time, my heart aches for the newly made mother that I was.  I remember feeling absolutely and positively betrayed by every single woman I had ever known who had given birth and failed to give me a heads up that it could be this terrible.  I was in so much pain -- physically, thanks to a 2nd degree episiotomy that left me unable to comfortably sit on a flat, hard surface for SEVERAL months after the fact; and emotionally, as I dealt with my feelings of failure for not being able to nurse, my despair over my drastically altered physical appearance {rudest wake-up call EVER to realize that the 50 pounds of pregnancy weight gain wasn't all baby}, and my overwhelming loneliness at being home by myself all day, every day, with no one but a newborn to keep me company.  In looking back, I'm certain that I was experiencing post-partum depression but I clearly didn't realize what was happening at the time.

 I love and I hate this picture.  

 I love how tiny and perfect and cuddled up Ethan is as he slept on my chest here on his first day home from the hospital.  I hate that whenever I look at this picture, all I see is ME -- tired, emotionally drained, and cartoonishly ballooned in size -- rather than the sweet and tender moment of mother and son home together at last.  When Ethan was looking at these pictures earlier this evening, he didn't even recognize it was me.  "Who IS that?" he asked in complete and total sincerity.

 Was he cute or what???

 Classic newborn and exhausted-first-time-father shot.  So precious.

Sweet little snuggle puppy.

If I could, I would travel back in time to that version of myself and give me a big hug.  I'd grab me by the shoulders, look me straight in the eye and say, "You can DO this.  You can do hard things."   Because it's true.  I've come a long way over the last 11 years.  I know I am stronger.  That's what happens when you do hard things -- you become stronger.  You become better.  Hopefully Ethan will one day realize that I'm a better woman because of him.

First Sunday at church -- Ethan was 11 days old.

Happy almost birthday, Ethan!  I love you so much and I'm so glad you are in our family!!!