Meeting baby brother

Labor started around 1am on December 24th.

"I don't want to have a baby today. I don't want to miss Christmas morning with the kids."

I tried to ignore the pains, but by 5am I knew there was no stopping it.

We arrived to the small hospital about 6am and I was dilated to a 4.

After a few hours with little progression, I opted to have my water broken to see if it could speed things up. It mostly just made my contractions a lot stronger, and then I stalled out for a time.

Next I opted for a small dose of pitocin to keep me moving along. It worked.

A smaller hospital meant I couldn’t have the anesthesiologist at a moment’s notice. I had to decide if I was doing this thing with or without pain help. Because of so much mental and emotional energy I’d spent getting Cooper well from influenza A the week prior, I was drained and felt I didn’t have the capacity to do it without an epidural. So they called the guy in.

He came and dosed me pretty high. My blood pressure tanked. More meds to control that. I felt so weak and tired from the BP drop. I was numb to every thing happening in my body. I spent some time in and out of sleep.

Finally I was complete. The doc came in. Just three pushes to meet our boy. Born just after 1pm.

I saw him and immediately looked for ”markers.” The whole pregnancy of wondering if he would have surprises for us like Cooper did flashed through my mind. I didn’t see markers and felt… relief? I thought about Cooper. Guilt washed over me. But how could I not look for markers after Cooper's birth experience?  A parent doesn’t hope for their child to have disabilities. To have a typical, boring birth experience is a blessing. A blessing wrapped in neat paper with a perfect bow on top.

Someone handed me my baby. Is he really here? The boy I waited for. The boy I hope will be a help to my other, special boy. The boy that will complete our family.

I looked at my husband. We didn’t have to say what we both were thinking.

“He’s here. He’s healthy.”

Not necessarily because we’d hoped for a typical son. We knew the possibilities and were prepared if there was a surprise. But because we’d hoped for a birth experience to feel positive and healing, different from the last, whatever diagnosis that may or may not exist. Birthing a child with a diagnosis of disability can also be a blessing. It’s just wrapped a little differently, and the bow gets ripped off by uncaring medical professionals or others who are careless with their words.

We were the only couple at this hospital on Christmas Eve having a baby. I will always be thankful to each person there that day. They celebrated with us. They loved us. My heart was filled through this experience. Memories of meeting Cooper and feeling sadness erased. I understand now more than ever: to birth a child, whether disabled or not, is an immeasurable blessing. ♥️

And how is Cooper is doing with a baby in the house? He hated hearing the baby's cries for a few days. But almost 3 weeks in and he's used to it now. He seems only mildly interested in the baby so far. The thing I hate most is just how much Cooper grew up once the baby came home. He started walking more and more the day we got home. Like somehow he understands that he's no longer the baby. Like somehow, without words, he's telling me, "Don't stress so much about me, Momma. I know you wanted to help me walk before baby came. But I'm growing up on my own timeline. And I'll be just fine."