My Birth Story

I woke up this morning. But this morning I woke up as the mother of a 15 year old girl. I figured now is as good a time as any to share my birth story.

My pregnancy was not an easy one. I was working at a daycare at the time. The morning sickness was all day sickness. Candy canes were the only things that got me through the first three months. The daycare I worked at was pretty rough. Violent kids, teachers that were there for a check, and an owner that only cared about her bottom line. One of those kids didn’t like that I was putting her in time out, so she punched my. In the stomach. While yelliing, “I’ll kill that baby inside you, bitch.” Yeah, it was that bad.
That punch put my doctor over the edge. She was already not happy with the chemicals I was having to use on a daily basis at my job. Psycho kid incident forced the doctor’s hand and told me to quit my job and stay home.
A month later, I went to visit my family in Philadelphia. After a day of walking and visiting I noticed something didn’t feel right. I was cramping and bleeding. Begrudgingly, my then fiancé took me to a hospital. Due to all the walking and slight dehydration I was in labor. At five months. Just found out I was having a girl. And here I was, about to bring my first born into the world.
The doctor in Philly gave me a shot to calm my uterus down. I headed back to the hotel with my now ex, called my parents to keep them updated, and when I hung up I prayed. I prayed to the Mother Goddess. I prayed to the Universe. I prayed to any cosmic entity that would listen to me, “Please don’t take my baby from me. I need to be her mommy. I need her in my life.”
I prayed that prayer every week when I got those shots. I prayed every time I felt those cramps. I prayed from the bed I was restricted to. I prayed in the shower. I prayed more in those final four months of pregnancy than I ever did in four years of Catholic school.
The shots stopped in June. My due date was the 18th and the doctor felt it was safe now to let nature take it’s course. I was even cleared to walk around the block each night. I had started a routine of meditating on a rose blooming, then taking a walk around the block, and coming back to meditate some more.
Wednesday June 11th was like every other evening. I ate dinner, meditated, and was putting my shoes on to go for my walk. In the driveway, my then fiancé had taken the Camaro’s engine apart because why not. He was off on Friday so he figured he would work on it. There was nothing wrong with it. That’s just a thing he did. As I left the house, I started to cramp. I was used to it so I continued to waddle down the driveway. The pain increased. I pushed through. I was only able to make it to the stop sign on the corner just one house down before I came crawling back to my house. Hands and knees had gravel embedded in them. And my ex was aggravated. Who knew I orchestrated going into labor while he was working on the car? Shocking. I asked him to please finish and put the car back together because I was going to try and hold out for my doctor appointment the next day.
I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. everything you could think of in that moment flooded every brain cell. What if I give birth here? What if I give birth in the car? He’ll be pissed if I give birth in the car. All of that on a loopin my brain until we arrived at the doctor’s office at 10 am. I crawled in the office. 15 minutes later they told me it was time to have a baby and to get to labor and delivery.
I got settled in. An intern that thought she was funny did my epidural. And I slept. Everything progressed well enough that the paperwork was all dated for the 12th. Thursday the 12th. And then at 1030 pm everything stopped. No contractions. No dilation. No progress. But something was happening. Outside, the tornado sirens were wailing. It had already been an active storm season. My baby shower and a birth class were both interrupted by tornadoes. Those sirens signaled more than storms.
Just like that, I went from a 7 to a 10 and it was pushing time. 3 pushes. 3. And my baby goddess was born. Six pounds and fifteen inches. Twenty one inches long. Born at twelve minutes after midnight on Friday the 13th during a full moon and tornado warnings. My bunny. My Isis Sophia. The little spirit I saw in my house before I was pregnant. And she was finally in my arms.
Fifteen years later, I’m about to go wake her up with the first song that played when I woke up that morning. Good morning, beautiful. How was your night? Mine was wonderful with you by my side. And when I opened my eyes to see your sweet face it’s a good morning beautiful day.


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