wren
ren/
noun
- 1.a small short-winged songbird found chiefly in the New World.
It's been almost two months since our little Wren came winging into our lives, and the joy she has brought with her is immeasurable.
Before Wren was born, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what love was.
And I did to a certain extent.
But I didn't know that love could feel like this.
My husband says almost daily to our little one, "I love you too much," and I think the statement is an accurate one. The love that a parent feels for her child, in my infantile experience, is so great that it feels almost burdensome. It's almost too much. The responsibility, the relentless worrying, the constant anxiety, coupled with the overwhelming, gushing love that comes with it, makes parenting the most difficult and most beautiful endeavor that I have ever tried to tackle.
So, brace yourselves. This is probably the longest birth story ever recorded, but since I want to remember every detail, I'm writing it all down.
It began the week of January 4th.
I had just gotten back from Christmas break, and was determined to keep working as long as I possibly could. My due date was the 17th, so I figured I still had plenty of time. By Wednesday the 6th, my attitude had changed. I went to work that morning fighting a cold and feeling miserable. I decided that it would be my last day so that I could focus on getting healthy before baby arrived. I let my sub know, left a folder of lesson plans on the desk, and said goodbye to my students. That same afternoon, I had an appointment with my OB who said things were looking good and that I would probably have a baby the following week.
Little did she know.
After my appointment, Graham and I swung by my parents' house, and on the drive, I started having some uncomfortable contractions. I had been having Braxton hicks intermittently for a couple of weeks, but these ones felt different. Upon announcing this fact to my mother she pronounced, "you're having that baby tonight." I laughed it off, but as the afternoon progressed, and the contractions got stronger, a small part of me was hopeful that she was right.
By 8:00 that evening, however, my hope had been distinguished because my contractions had completely stopped. I texted my mom, "sorry to get your hopes up, but no baby is being born tonight. My contractions have stopped." So, I went to bed a bit disappointed, only to be woken up at 11:00 pm, out of a dead sleep, with the most painful contraction yet. I doubled over in pain...and started watching the clock. My contractions were five minutes apart, and by 11:15, I had woken Graham up with my moaning. So he started timing...and by 11:30, they were three minutes apart.
It was time to go.
Much to my husband's horror, I insisted on taking a shower, and while I moaned my way through it, he ran around getting all of our last minute items together. I finished up, and while toweling off, I was pretty sure my water broke. The urgency ramped up a bit at that point, and we knew that we needed to get moving. We grabbed our bags, hopped in the car (well...he hopped, I kind of painfully slid in), and made our way up to the hospital.
We arrived by 12:30, where I was immediately checked. The nurse confirmed that my water had indeed broken, and Graham called my mom. "Kim," he said. "We're having a baby." I could hear my mom laughing through the phone, and something that closely resembled, "Ha! Told you! I'm on my way."
I had told my husband the week before that I wanted to see how far I could get in the process without an epidural. I had wanted to see if I could have the baby without one. But by 1:30 am, that idea was a distant memory. I had dilated to a 6, and was begging for an epidural. Things were just moving too fast.
My request was granted a half hour later, and I was blessed with the most gloriously perfect epidural ever known to mankind. I was numb only from my waist to my knees, and I could feel every contraction with only a small degree of pain. Needless to say, the next couple of hours progressed much more peacefully. I had stopped clinging to the bedrail, and the noises coming out of my mouth no longer sounded like a dying cat. At that point, at about 3:00, things had settled down, and the nurse encouraged us all to get some rest. She assured us that we had a long way to go, and that I needed to be well-rested for the event that awaited me.
We all dozed for a bit, but by 4:30, my contractions had changed, and I began to feel some pressure. The nurse came in and noticed me cringing. She decided to check me, and by the look on her face, I knew things had progressed. Her next statement confirmed my suspicions. "Wow, you're at a 9," she said. "I guess it's time we got this room prepped for baby."
A few nurses made their way in, and within 30 minutes, the room was ready. Our nurse started giving me instructions on how to push, and I confusedly said, "wait...I thought I was only at a 9." Her response? "I lied. I only said that so you wouldn't freak out while we got everything ready. You're ready to push, honey."
It was 5:00 am, only six hours after my first really painful contraction, and I was ready to have my baby. I was stunned, but SO ready. With my husband on one side, and my mom on the other, I began to push.
No one can really prepare you for that initial moment when a beautiful baby, a girl that you have carried around inside of you for nine months, nurturing and loving without even having met, is placed on your chest. Nothing compares to that moment. Absolutely nothing. It makes everything worth it. And it changes you in an instant.
Wren weighed 7 pounds, 15 oz and was 20 inches of absolute perfection. She has her mommy's big eyes, and her daddy's everything else. She loves baths, and hates sleep. She has a full head of hair, and long, skinny legs. Her favorite time of day is early in the morning, before the sun even comes up, where she smiles and coos, and makes her mommy and daddy grin with contentment, despite the sleep deprivation.
She has become our world, and we wouldn't have it any other way.
Before Wren was born, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what love was.
And I did to a certain extent.
But I didn't know that love could feel like this.
My husband says almost daily to our little one, "I love you too much," and I think the statement is an accurate one. The love that a parent feels for her child, in my infantile experience, is so great that it feels almost burdensome. It's almost too much. The responsibility, the relentless worrying, the constant anxiety, coupled with the overwhelming, gushing love that comes with it, makes parenting the most difficult and most beautiful endeavor that I have ever tried to tackle.
So, brace yourselves. This is probably the longest birth story ever recorded, but since I want to remember every detail, I'm writing it all down.
It began the week of January 4th.
I had just gotten back from Christmas break, and was determined to keep working as long as I possibly could. My due date was the 17th, so I figured I still had plenty of time. By Wednesday the 6th, my attitude had changed. I went to work that morning fighting a cold and feeling miserable. I decided that it would be my last day so that I could focus on getting healthy before baby arrived. I let my sub know, left a folder of lesson plans on the desk, and said goodbye to my students. That same afternoon, I had an appointment with my OB who said things were looking good and that I would probably have a baby the following week.
Little did she know.
After my appointment, Graham and I swung by my parents' house, and on the drive, I started having some uncomfortable contractions. I had been having Braxton hicks intermittently for a couple of weeks, but these ones felt different. Upon announcing this fact to my mother she pronounced, "you're having that baby tonight." I laughed it off, but as the afternoon progressed, and the contractions got stronger, a small part of me was hopeful that she was right.
By 8:00 that evening, however, my hope had been distinguished because my contractions had completely stopped. I texted my mom, "sorry to get your hopes up, but no baby is being born tonight. My contractions have stopped." So, I went to bed a bit disappointed, only to be woken up at 11:00 pm, out of a dead sleep, with the most painful contraction yet. I doubled over in pain...and started watching the clock. My contractions were five minutes apart, and by 11:15, I had woken Graham up with my moaning. So he started timing...and by 11:30, they were three minutes apart.
It was time to go.
Much to my husband's horror, I insisted on taking a shower, and while I moaned my way through it, he ran around getting all of our last minute items together. I finished up, and while toweling off, I was pretty sure my water broke. The urgency ramped up a bit at that point, and we knew that we needed to get moving. We grabbed our bags, hopped in the car (well...he hopped, I kind of painfully slid in), and made our way up to the hospital.
We arrived by 12:30, where I was immediately checked. The nurse confirmed that my water had indeed broken, and Graham called my mom. "Kim," he said. "We're having a baby." I could hear my mom laughing through the phone, and something that closely resembled, "Ha! Told you! I'm on my way."
I had told my husband the week before that I wanted to see how far I could get in the process without an epidural. I had wanted to see if I could have the baby without one. But by 1:30 am, that idea was a distant memory. I had dilated to a 6, and was begging for an epidural. Things were just moving too fast.
My request was granted a half hour later, and I was blessed with the most gloriously perfect epidural ever known to mankind. I was numb only from my waist to my knees, and I could feel every contraction with only a small degree of pain. Needless to say, the next couple of hours progressed much more peacefully. I had stopped clinging to the bedrail, and the noises coming out of my mouth no longer sounded like a dying cat. At that point, at about 3:00, things had settled down, and the nurse encouraged us all to get some rest. She assured us that we had a long way to go, and that I needed to be well-rested for the event that awaited me.
We all dozed for a bit, but by 4:30, my contractions had changed, and I began to feel some pressure. The nurse came in and noticed me cringing. She decided to check me, and by the look on her face, I knew things had progressed. Her next statement confirmed my suspicions. "Wow, you're at a 9," she said. "I guess it's time we got this room prepped for baby."
A few nurses made their way in, and within 30 minutes, the room was ready. Our nurse started giving me instructions on how to push, and I confusedly said, "wait...I thought I was only at a 9." Her response? "I lied. I only said that so you wouldn't freak out while we got everything ready. You're ready to push, honey."
It was 5:00 am, only six hours after my first really painful contraction, and I was ready to have my baby. I was stunned, but SO ready. With my husband on one side, and my mom on the other, I began to push.
No one can really prepare you for that initial moment when a beautiful baby, a girl that you have carried around inside of you for nine months, nurturing and loving without even having met, is placed on your chest. Nothing compares to that moment. Absolutely nothing. It makes everything worth it. And it changes you in an instant.
Wren weighed 7 pounds, 15 oz and was 20 inches of absolute perfection. She has her mommy's big eyes, and her daddy's everything else. She loves baths, and hates sleep. She has a full head of hair, and long, skinny legs. Her favorite time of day is early in the morning, before the sun even comes up, where she smiles and coos, and makes her mommy and daddy grin with contentment, despite the sleep deprivation.
She has become our world, and we wouldn't have it any other way.
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