Alina’s Birth Story

My pregnancy with Alina was as easy as it could it be. Other than my normal amount of stress and worry, I ate well and exercised, didn’t experience any significant amounts of nausea, and generally had enough energy to function at my normal pace.

She had been measuring slightly bigger than average, but my Doctor had assured me she was healthy. He did caution, however, that my pelvic area was small {to which I responded with “do you see these Latin hips? I will push her out; you’ll see!} and the possibility of a cesarean section should be prepared for. I totally did NOT heed his caution. What do Doctors know anyway.

At every check up prior to Alina’s birth date, I was one to two cementers further dilated. At my 38 week check up, my Doctor stripped the membranes and three days later my water busted all over our bedroom floor. True story! The morning my water broke, I had just called my best friend Jess to wish her a happy birthday and she told me that the best present would be if I had the baby that day. But neither of us thought that would actually happen! Daddy D and I proceeded to run our errands for the morning, until I realized that I was either losing control of my bladder or something else was happening. I called my cousin {who was also my Labor and Delivery Nurse} who told me to go straight to the hospital.

So what did I do? Oh, I finished my shopping at Target…. picked up a sandwich at Subway… took a shower at home. Ya. That’s me. Always pushing the envelope. Anyway, after I had slipped on a freshly washed pair of delicious yoga pants that I had specifically set out for the occasion, I bent down to put on my Uggs. Upon standing… it busted.

Oh yaaa, baby. It’s JUST like you see in the movies. At first I was scared and started screaming for my husband {who at this point was outside packing my bag into the car}, but quickly realized everything was fine… just very wet…. and I started to laugh hysterically. I know not a single person who’s water actually broke. As soon as D saw me, he lost his mind and went into commando-man mode that I am sure you ladies are familiar with {why do guys act like that?}. I don’t think his anxiety levels went down for 48 hours after that moment… that man loves me too much, I tell ya.

I walked into the hospital with my water broken, 4 cm dilated and some mild contractions that were getting stronger with every minute. I was over the moon and ready to meet my daughter. Dare I say, I was also overly confident that the delivery would go exactly as I had “planned”: labor as long as possible, get the epidural, push no more than ten times, baby comes out and directly to my chest {at which point we would instantly become breastfeeding professionals}. But it didn’t happen like that. At all…

Once I was admitted, everything happened so fast. I got the epidural at about 6cm and was comfortable waiting till it was time to push. I remember looking at the clock and thinking that Alina would FOR SURE be born on Jessica’s birthday… it wouldn’t take me over four hours to push out a baby.

Well, it did. In fact, I didn’t push her out at all. After hours of pushing from every direction and with the assistance of every apparatus available {including the arms of my loved ones holding back my legs}, it was determined that my child’s head was not in the correct position AND just too darn big for my pelvic. {Dang you, Doctor!} I was rushed into the operating room, where I then had an allergic reaction to a medication, was given benadryl to counter the reaction, which of course made me all kinds of drowsy. At some point, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl who weighed in at 7 lbs and 13 ounces and was 20 inches long.

Can you say traumatic? Because it was. Even just looking over the pictures of Alina’s birth to write this post was hard for me. I couldn’t hold my child for close to an hour after she was born {my arms were shaking too much}. My throat was raw and hurt to high holy goodness. And the verrrrry worst of it all, and the one thing I can recall most visibly, was Alina’s little lips suckling. Arrrrrrgh. From all my research, I knew how important it was to get them on the breast as soon as possible and the fact that I couldn’t hindered our ease at feeding later on.

{My breastfeeding story does have a happy ending…. we breastfed exclusively the first year…. ONLY because my Aunt came to my rescue. She sat with me at practically every feeding for a week until Alina and I got the hang of it. Without her, I would have surely given up. Breastfeeding is by far the most difficult, natural endeavour I have ever undertaken. Maybe more on another post? We’ll see!}

Don’t I look tore up from the floor up? Seriously, you can tell me. Daddy D says I look like a woman who just had a baby, but I’m not so sure. Have you ever seen pictures of women who look AMAZING after childbirth? Yup. Not me. Nor had I ever in my life expected a birth like the one I got….

I also never expected to give birth to anything so perfect. Because despite the chaos or the trauma, Alina was born happy and healthy. That’s all that really matters, anyway: giving birth to a healthy baby. And even if not in my arms, she was welcomed into the world by her Daddy and so many other family and friends that had gathered at 3 AM just to kiss her brand new cheeks and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. All my Vegas family was there, my Mom and Brother came out from Cali, my Mother and Sisters in Law came out as well. Even a few close friends made the massive effort to be there for my sweet Alina’s birth. I could have not survived that day, nor the following ones, without their unconditional love and support.

Isn’t she perfect?!?

Alina’s birth story isn’t perfect, but she certainly made me the happiest I had ever been in my life. I would do that day again a million times over just to get the same precious baby girl. It’s hard to think it was over two years ago, and we are now days away from experiencing our second birth. I pray with all my might that, regardless of the circumstances, we are blessed with the same great fortune of a healthy child as we were the first time around. Your prayers are always welcomed, too!

* In regards to the toll Alina’s birth took on me, I will say this… it took a few solid months to emotionally recover from that day. It was a difficult road to new motherhood for me, which I write about here in my Personal Identity Post on Becoming A New Mom. I am fairly certain I dealt with some mild postpartum depression, but was too scared {or ashamed?} to ask for help. That was silly, and I am ready to call on my support network if necessary this time around. I urge new moms to reach out to loved ones and medical professionals if they think they are ever dealing with postpartum. Becoming a mom is hard work; it is by far the most amazing day you will ever experience, but that doesn’t make it easy. Have reasonable expectations and be kind to yourself !*