The Mini Cometh

It was a dark and stormy night…

…really though, all Hemingway jokes aside, it was 10pm on a humid, rainy Sunday night. We had just finished watching the women’s gymnastics Olympic trials and were heading to bed. Matt needed to pick a new book to read, so we headed over to the bookshelf in the dining room. I straddled the yoga ball and gently bounced a bit to loosen my tight hips as we browsed titles. After deciding not to choose anything – it didn’t seem sensible to start a new book with a baby on the way – I stood up, took three steps into the living room…and my water broke! For a brief moment, I convinced myself I had merely peed myself; however, I hadn’t laughed or sneezed.

I carefully navigated to our bedroom upstairs, and sat cross-legged on the floor on a towel talking to the doctor on call. After I told him about the yoga ball, he joked about introducing the “Chelsea method” to his patients who wanted to start labor. He instructed me to head to the hospital. I called both of our moms, Matt’s sister, and my bestie Chris to let them know that the Mini would be making an appearance within the next 24 hours. Matt ran next door to give an extra key to our neighbor – resident expert Mom of the block – and I sort of wandered around gathering the last few things for my hospital bag. 

After we finished packing, I realized we would be returning from the hospital to whatever condition we left the house in, and proceeded to tidy up the living room a bit and do the dishes that were in the sink. There was a light, excited energy surrounding us, as the neighbor took “action shots” and we made our way out of the front door.

After securing the car seat base, and loading our baby gear, we were off to the hospital. As many times as I drove to prenatal yoga or we made trips into Oakland, we never could have even created a more perfect journey. Because it was 11pm, there was no traffic and the cover of night was perfectly serene.

Fast forward through all of the boring stuff – parking, checking in at security, waiting in triage, and being wheeled to our labor and delivery room – and, we found ourselves getting ready for the Mini’s arrival. In an attempt to kick start contractions, we did a few dozen laps around the L&D suites and stretched on a yoga ball. We met with my doctor, and he recommended that we both get some sleep. Almost as soon as I settled down in bed, I started to experience some mildly uncomfortable back labor and, of course, didn’t sleep a wink.

At around 4am, the doctor decided to start me on Pitocin. Contractions came on strong and fast. I was calm and quiet and focused on my breathing; however, as the hours went by, my contractions became extremely intense and erratic. Matt and I tried every trick in the book to deal with the physical discomfort – walking (well, shuffling along with the IV pole and stopping every few minutes to “slow dance” through a contraction), using the yoga ball, light massage – though my contractions never balanced out and turned more consistent.

After my year of trials and tribulations leading up to back surgery, and such a quick and complete healing process, I became very emotionally guarded when it came to experiencing pain anywhere near my back. Last fall, I had some issues with back spasms and had nearly debilitating panic attacks when faced with a level of pain that I thought was gone forever. The severity of the Pitocin-induced contractions cause emotional fear and stress too overwhelming to deal with. Although I had hoped for a completely natural birth, I knew it was time for an epidural.

Once the epidural was setup, I need to pass a few tests, one of which was whether my blood pressure would spike. Just as the anesthesiologist said “Let me know if she goes above 90,” my iPod played the Beatles song “In My Life,” my wedding procession song. I burst into tears, as did Matt, my blood pressure spiked, and we had ourselves a funny but deeply touching moment. I had been at 2cm since the previous Friday; however, between 7am and noon, I quickly went from 2 to 3 to 5 to 8…and then it was time to get the show on the road.

After just over an hour of pushing, the Mini arrived. As part of our birth plan, Matt announced the gender to me – “We have a son!” On July 2 at 1:11pm, at 7 pounds 1 ounce and 20.5 inches, Grant Duncan Cooper was born.

Nothing will ever truly prepare you for being a parent – and, trust me, Matt and I read our share of books, listened to more than enough advice, and spent many nights in bed talking about how our lives would change. As I looked down on our son’s face for the first time, it was as if I was completing the final phase of a lifelong transformation -- the cocoon fell away and my heart soared on new wings. Forgive my flowery prose but holding Grant in my arms with Matt at my side was the single most happy and perfect moment in my life.

To be continued...