September brings a torrent of memories to my awareness and to my Facebook feed, my body remembers all the things it’s done in September’s past. I haven’t had tension in my neck and shoulders for a while now, probably since last September. In 2019 we were having our first fundraiser and departing to prague for our first IVF. In 2020 Schaan and I went to Barbados to transfer the embryo that would be my first ever positive pregnancy test. In 2021 we had our second miscarriage of our 7th embryo in September. This year, I’m snuggling my baby. My real baby.
At our first IVF consultation they told us we had a 14% chance that IVF would result in take home baby. They are careful not to say “chance of getting pregnant ” because that number is much higher, but a pregnancy that results in a live birth is called a take home baby. It’s all marketing, and very catchy, and sells you on wanting to buy this medicine immediately. We took this baby home on 8/8 twenty days after he was born, his existence was predicted as a very slim chance yet here we are.

Women everywhere love to tell their birth story. I have often found that very uncomfortable at parties and find a reason to leave the conversation. I’m going to share mine now and if you want to scroll to the end I will try to think of a joke for you to read so you can say you made it to the end. Sometimes other people’s stories take up too much space in your brain. It’s valuable real estate inside your head, so I get it if you need to excuse yourself to the dessert table or top off your tea. I’ll still love you if you can’t hear my birth story. But if you can, and you want to, I’ve been looking forward to sharing it with you. Top off your tea anyways and I’ll wait a sec.

The morning Fox was born I was told that I would have to manage the anxiety of being awake during a surgery with my own natural means as no meds could be offered. So I did what I’ve been doing for years to manage fear and worry, I danced. I put on Macklemore and Lizzo and Taylor and boogied in my backless gown as a swarm of nurses and doctors prepared all the things needed to deliver my baby. I got to take my playlist into the operating room, and after they got me situated Josh came in and sat by my head. We listened to our tunes, and he stroked my hair with my favorite essential oil on his hands.

The thing no one told me about c section birth is how hard they push on your ribs to get the baby out. I was bruised for days and deep breathing really hurt. We knew the baby would be rushed away to the NICU team but for one brief moment they showed him to me. My first thought looking at him and hearing his little cry was I KNOW HIM. ( think of Buddy the elf taking about Santa) I immediately recognized him, he looked just like my kid. I was laughing at how happy I felt in that moment but I didn’t want the shaking of my belly laugh to be a problem for the Dr’s that were still operating on my open belly. So I calmed myself and sang along with the soundtrack we chose ( which at this point was <very predictably> Stephen Kellogg ) all the while watching the NICU team triage him.

It was a while still after Josh and Fox left that I was on the table, I wish that I’d have had a doula to coach me through this part or at least a nurse to tell about her weekend plans. It was lonely and really scary that it was taking so long. They ended up having to remove 3 fibroids in order to stitch up my uterus. He had splatters of my blood on his gown as he told me this and said it was really tricky and that I’m lucky. Then they lifted me off the operating table and rolled me away to recovery. I was twitchy and itchy and insanely tired from the adrenaline of birthing my child, but way too excited to sleep. Josh was texting me photos from the NICU and my nurse was getting me set up to the breast pump. It was a hazy two hours where I kept asking when I could see him before I finally did.

They wheeled my bed back to his room (because I couldn’t feel my legs yet) two hours after he was born. He was laying face down propped up with all kind of bolsters and wires and tubes connecting him to machines. It was loud with various beeping and whirring sounds. I reached out my finger and held his wee little hand. I couldn’t really see his face very well, his eyes were swollen shut and the cpap covering his nose was attached to a hat and a chin strap. I felt so calm and peaceful knowing he was being cared for and that he was safely in this world. The nurses explained what all the support machines were doing for him and how he was responding to all of the help he was getting. I wasn’t there very long before they wheeled me back to my room down the hall. I had to get up out of bed and into the wheelchair the next time I went back in.

It was 26 hours after he was born that I held him for the first time. I had been patiently asking every time I was wheeled down to his room when I would be able to hold him. It took some careful maneuvering on the nurses part to move him and all his gear from his warming table to my chest. The weight of him against my body felt like the missing part of me had just snapped back into place. The relief of having him in my arms was like when you finally get to pee on a road trip where you have been holding it for a long time. It felt so wrong in my body to be away from him as much as I was, I had a constant ache for him. When they peeled him away I was already wondering when my next time would be. I had a feeling that I was complete at last, after all these years of searching I had what I was dreaming of.

The 20 days that followed in the NICU are variations of this same 24 his period. Getting updates on his progress, and commuting from where I was to my baby’s room, washing my hands with harsh soap, and wearing a mask, asking when I could hold him. The first time I was offered to change his diaper I cried, the first time he looked at me I cried, the first bath we gave him I cried, when they took out his IV I cried. You get the point, I cried a lot. I have so many stories of the 40 days that have followed, and I’ll be telling them if you see me at a party. I’ll keep telling the story of this child and our adventures as a family as often as possible.

If you are thinking of rejoining the conversation, you are casually walking by to see if we’re still talking about birth here’s the joke I promised you would over hear: I got fired from the bank today. A woman asked me to check her balance… so I pushed her. Hahaha… the group is laughing and now we will talk about your cousins wedding, or your brothers new start up, or how Katelyn is going to Europe… again. Sometimes parties can be hard for lots of reasons, but I’m glad we found ourselves gathered together today.