Malachi's birth day

Birthdays are a big deal in our family. I am one of very few people that doesn't share a birthday with someone else or a holiday. My mother in law and younger brother in law have the same birthday. My husband's birthday is the week after theirs, and he shares it with our "adopted" sister. Toby's birthday is three weeks after Nathan's, and it will sometimes fall on Thanksgiving. My sister in law shares a birthday with a very close cousin. My brother and my brother in law's birthdays are only three days apart. You get the picture. Almost everyone in our family shares birthdays.

So when we found out I was pregnant and calculated the due date, my husband got very excited. His birthday is November 10, and I was due November 7. He said for nine months straight how he hoped I went past my due date. And I replied with some comment about kicking him if I did. I didn't think I would, seeing as how Toby was a couple of weeks early, but I also wasn't that worried about it. I figured he would come when he came, and I wasn't going to rush it.

I made an appointment with a local midwife soon after I found out I was pregnant, and the first thing she said to me was, "So I guess we're scheduling a repeat section?" I said, "No. I did that already. I want a VBAC." She went on to explain that since our local hospital was not staffed for 24 hour emergency surgery, they did not accept VBAC patients. I was pretty disappointed. We had driven over an hour to the hospital with Toby, and I was really hoping to give birth locally this time. But I soon found the midwives' practice in Cookeville, and my disappointment faded quickly. It was so worth the drive.

Fast forward to my due date. Nathan was scheduled to work overtime in Nashville. Our midwives' practice and hospital were in Cookeville. We live in Carthage, and only had one car. If you're looking at a map right now, you see why this might pose a problem. We packed Toby up in the car along with the hospital suitcase, and went to Nashville with Nathan. I didn't want to be stuck with no vehicle and only a crappy hospital nearby if I went into labor while he was an hour's drive away.

It was a beautiful day. I took Toby to the park, and we walked the 1.1 mile loop about fifteen times. We went to a basketball game at my alma mater and went up and down a flight of stairs about twenty times. And then we went out for Mexican food, where I downed about five shots of Pico de Gallo. I was so determined to get this baby out, because the OB overseeing my case had mentioned "induction" if I went too far past my "due" date. I did not really want to be induced.

Needless to say, Malachi was still in there when I went for my appointment on the 10th. Poor Nathan had to spend his birthday taking me to the midwife. Dr. Casal (who I really do respect and appreciate) pretty much looked at me and said, "You're still pregnant? Let's schedule you to come to the hospital in the morning and we'll break your water."

At this point, my parents were already on their way up from Florida. I had already been pregnant two weeks longer than I felt like I should have been (remember Toby was born at 38 weeks). And Nathan didn't have too many more vacation days left to spend on this situation. So I agreed. We went to an Italian restaurant and ate eggplant parmesan at the nurses' suggestion. It didn't send me into labor, but it sure was yummy.

My parents got in at 2am, and we got up at 4am to get to the hospital. They broke my water at 7am, and started the Pitocin. I was at a 7 by about 11am, and begging for an epidural (have you ever had Pitocin contractions? They are PAINFUL!). So I started pushing about an hour later, and Malachi was out after less than an hour of pushing. Dr. Casal wanted to do an episiotomy, but I talked him out of it, and managed to tear just enough for my little thumb sucker to come out with his fist up by his face, already trying to get it in his mouth.

I wrote in Toby's story that I dealt with horrible PPD. I knew throughout my entire pregnancy with Malachi that I was still a little messed up. I promised my husband that I would get help after he was born if I was still feeling off. I mention this because of what happened when I pushed Malachi out. I felt the most amazing sense of "rightness." I told Nathan later that it was as if a switch had flipped, and I was back to normal. All of those feelings of failure, of worry, of anger and bitterness at the people who violated me, they were gone. Malachi wasn't the only one born that day. I experienced a rebirth, too.

When little piggy came out, he was wonderfully red and had a beautiful lumpy head, just like babies are supposed to when they enter the world. He weight eight pounds even, and was born with fat rolls around his little legs. He was so adorable. He came out with an appetite, too. He cried for me the whole time he was being weighed and checked, and went right for the breast as soon as they gave him back to me. He nursed like a champ from the get-go, and didn't stop until I decided I needed to get some sleep a year later.

I knew that the recovery would be better than the cesarean recovery, but I didn't know how much better. The day after Toby was born, I was struggling to make a lap around the maternity floor in the hospital. The day after Malachi was born, I was packing up a heavy suitcase to go home. We went home the day after he was born, and I was out running errands while my mom watched him sleep. I felt incredible! I could not (and still can not) imagine why anyone would choose to have a c-section.

Malachi and Toby will be two and four years old this November. Their birthdays fit them so well. Toby was born the day after Thanksgiving, the day we spend every year giving thanks to God for His blessings and provision, and for bringing us through times of trouble. Malachi was born the day after his daddy's birthday, on Veterans' Day. I think after his birth, we all felt like veterans. Obviously not of war, like many of our family members, but veterans of birth. We had fought a terrible experience, depression and frustration, and we won. I saw a t-shirt a couple of weeks later, and it fit so well. "ICAN. I did it, and I would do it again."