I know I’ve posted about this before, and I will again. It’s my place and I’ll do what I want!! Anyway, today is my boy’s third birthday and as usual I am full of emotions. September 10, 2012 feels like a lifetime away, and yet these three years have also breezed by. So much has changed, so much has happened, so so much has been learned, and sooooo much needs to be learned.
I decided to be induced when Harry was late. His due date was September 5th or 6th, depending on which doctor I spoke to. I knew there was a good chance he would be late, but I was not prepared for how awful relentless contractions and back “labor”, added to the end of a long pregnancy, would wear on me. Do I wish I had opted to wait? Yes. I can’t change it, I love my doctor, it is what it is. I had intended on a natural birth but was unprepared for pitocin contractions. I vividly remember looking out a hospital window and contemplating jumping out of it, and having flashbacks the next time I was on that floor years later during clinical for nursing school. Labor is NO joke. Pair that with a back injury where they couldn’t get my epidural to work properly and I was a miserable human.
Then it came time to push. After waiting, agonizing, trying to be patient, I could actually be proactive and do something. I pushed for an hour, and at the start I was terrible at it. I couldn’t feel anything and I didn’t know the feeling or the motion. Finally, I started to make progress and my epidural thankfully began to wear off. I could feel my power, moving my baby, finally doing something. My husband had sworn he was not going to watch the “graphic” part of birth, but as soon as Harry was visible he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. I remember him looking at me, tears and wonder in his wide eyes, saying, “I can see him. I can really see him.” That was enough motivation, and I pushed with all my might. Harrison Raymond Smith was born soon after. This baby that I couldn’t feel much during my pregnancy (I had an anterior placenta which basically muffles the feeling), this guy who would wave during his ultrasounds, this little dude whose hiccups kept me up at night was finally a physical person. He didn’t cry, which worried us at first. He let out one muffled cry and then was in my arms, staring up at me with wide eyes like his father had just done to me at the first sight of him. I was dumbfounded – there are no other words.
I remember those awkward moments as I was being tended to, all the while holding my little man. I didn’t know how to feel. I cried, I panicked, I smiled, I took it all in. At some point after my repair my mom and my friends came in and immediately bawled their eyes out. I was in shock, in awe, in disbelief. Was this man really finally here? Had our fight to bring this guy into the world really ended? It was all too much to take in. I didn’t feel like myself until we got home and he was mine, in my house, under my rule. He was a real thing, my guy, and he stared at me all day and night. I was his entire world and he had me completely wrapped around his finger. I love my husband more than life itself but this blows that love out of the water. Sometimes I love Harry so much that it’s physically painful.
Harry is a special guy, and so much has happened in these past three years. We have come so, so far but we still have so far to go. I’m not sure I would jump at the opportunity to live these past few years again, as they were the most difficult of my life, but they were also the most beautiful and the most full of love. Harry is a special guy, he really is. He’s going to do great things and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for him. He is surrounded by this huge village of people who absolutely love him, so hard that is hurts (just like it does to me) and that’s nuts. He’s the luckiest guy in the world, and simultaneously we are the luckiest people to know him. Happy birthday, my man. Live it up, take it in, and give it your all.