Written by Dear Baby Boy,
As I sit here watching you sleep, I can’t help but think about how lucky I am to be your mom. You may not know this yet, but I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you. And not just the 40 weeks it took to grow you in my belly. I’ve been dreaming of this day for years; before I even met your daddy (but that’s a story for another day).
This is the story about how I met you – in person – for the very first time.
It started nearly a year ago, with a slight hunch and a trip to the doctor’s office. Your dad and I were beyond thrilled to learn that you would soon turn our dynamic duo into a party of three. But it was early and mine was what they call a “geriatric” pregnancy. Since you’re probably still a little young to understand, that means mommy was older (aka 35) when she had you, which meant that I was at a higher risk for complications.
P.S. – 35 is NOT too old to give birth. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re too old or too young to do the amazing things you are bound to do in this world.
But even outside of the doctor’s labels, I was afraid. Afraid that, having waited so long to get pregnant, I would be at a higher risk to lose the pregnancy early on. So we waited. We waited to tell our friends and family (yes – we even kept Nana, Popsicle, Papa Doug, and Grandma Brit in the dark!) our wonderfully exciting news to make sure that you were definitely on your way.
And on your way, you certainly were.
Despite advice to the contrary, Dad and I decided we didn’t want to know if you were a boy or a girl. We decided that whatever you were, it was meant to be and we would love you regardless. Almost everyone we told thought we were crazy, citing a relentless desire to know so that they could “prepare” appropriately. We just enjoyed basking in the idea that we would be surprised on the day you arrived. But it definitely didn’t keep us from guessing every few weeks. Boy or girl? We’d ask. And yes, we had a few gut feelings about it and a few different names picked out… just in case.
Flash forward. Your due date was still a little over a week away, but mamma was ready to get down to business. While I had enjoyed our time together, I was ready to get back to a time when little baby feet were not kickboxing my lungs every five minutes. I also wanted to get back to regular clothes. You’ve probably already learned that mamma loves to shop and maternity clothes are simply not her thing.
No longer working, I had nothing but time to think about everything that was about to happen – and everything that could ultimately go wrong. Your dad and I decided I would have a walking epidural – the kind that eases some of the pain, but still allows you to get up and walk during contractions to help move things along. We also discussed that in an emergency, we would happily take the doctor’s advice, no matter what the surgical implications may be. Little did we know how important that conversation would later become. We also decided that Dad would stay up by Mommy’s head and hold her hand while she was delivering because… well, you’ll understand one day.
Dad did everything he could to try and help me help you along. We read all the blogs about how to naturally induce labor and as the day drew closer, we upped our efforts. We downed juicy fresh pineapple slices and tacos from Taco Bell (did you know some women SWEAR that Taco Bell tacos induce labor?). And while I was feeling some minor contractions, none of it really worked until the night before you were due, when Dad brought home spicy curry from Mommy’s favorite Thai restaurant. Around 6:45pm, I started feeling the contractions move closer and closer together and we knew it was time to hit the road.
I’ve never been more nervous and more excited in my life. The car ride was luckily quite smooth – very little traffic for mid-week in Los Angeles. When we arrived in the maternity ward we quickly filled out the intake paperwork and answered questions about whether or not we’d recently been to China, a question we would learn a few weeks later would mean a worldwide pandemic was about to turn all our lives upside down. But for now, we were in our own little bubble, unfazed by the news spreading around the globe. We were happy to just be you, me and daddy… and the amazing nurses who were helping us, of course.
When we arrived, I wasn’t quite far enough along to technically be admitted, so they asked me to walk the maternity ward for an hour to see if I dilated any further. I was at 4 cm when we arrived and they wanted me closer to 6 cm. So I threw on some cozy socks and Dad and I started walking. Around and around and around. Passing doors of other women who were in labor or who had just given birth to their little loves. Every few feet another contraction would hit and I would double over in pain, gripping the wall to try and stay steady.
And buddy, let me tell you, Dad was amazing. He rubbed my back and held my hand. He offered to get the nurse when things felt too intense and he took breaks with me when I couldn’t keep moving. Dad was an all-star. I would have been lost without him.
Thankfully, the walk worked, and soon enough we were settled into our room and waiting for your arrival. The anesthesiologist arrived soon after to give me the epidural. After a long conversation with him regarding my birth plan and my wishes for the next few hours, I decided that a full epidural was ultimately right for me. It was nearly 11pm by the time he arrived and together, we felt that sleep that night would be a better use of my time – since I would likely not be ready to start pushing until the following morning.
Now, everyone has their opinions about what is best for childbirth. I believe that no one path is right for every woman. I am glad that I went into the situation flexible and willing to listen to the advice of the doctors who had our best interest at heart. While I had an idea of what I had originally wanted, after discussing my personal situation with the doctor, I truly believe we made the best choice for me at the time – especially given how events would later unfold. He administered the epidural and I blissfully felt the pain from the contractions disappear.
Nana and Popsicle arrived soon after and we visited for a while – until, that is, a group of concerned looking nurses swooped in, started flipping me over and supplying me with an oxygen mask. A few minutes later, we learned that your heart rate was dropping dramatically and they were attempting to move you into a different position, one that would keep your heart rate from plummeting and keep us both safe. It was a scary scenario, but the nurses assured us they had it under control and that they would be monitoring us both very closely over the next few hours.
Scarily enough, your heart rate dropped again later that night – making rest for Mamma nearly impossible. Luckily, around 7am the next morning (your actual due date!), the doctor told us we were ready to push. And push we did…
Bud, let me tell you, even with an epidural, this was the most uncomfortable experience. You, of course, were well worth it, but I want you to know that it was no easy moment for Mommy – or Daddy for that matter.
The nurses and doctors switched shifts exactly at 7am, so I was awkwardly introduced to my new lead nurse and we got straight down to business. First things first – she asked Dad hold one of my legs! Poor Dad looked at me and asked what I wanted him to do. Remember, we had agreed he would be staying by my head and holding my hand while I pushed. But with only one nurse in the room and no time to dilly dally, I apologized for what he was about to witness and told him to grab an ankle.
I pushed and pushed and pushed. But nothing. We changed positions, pushed some more and then changed positions again. Two hours later, the doctor was by my bedside with a concerned look on her face. As it turns out, you were already showing a little bit of your stubborn streak. She explained that each time I pushed, you would begrudgingly make your way up the birth canal, only to retreat back again once the pushing stopped. And to make things worse, your heart rate was dropping to alarmingly low levels each time. They were asking me to move into different positions to see what you liked best. Apparently, the answer was that you hated them all.
So the doctor gave us options:
- We could keep pushing to see if we could get you far enough down for her to vacuum you out (absolutely not)
- We could talk about a c-section (also not what I wanted to hear)
She said that she was happy to help facilitate continued pushing, but Mommy was concerned that we would go through so much extra work (remember it’s already been two hours of pushing) only to find that it wouldn’t work and we’d have to do a c-section anyway. Plus, we were all quite worried about your dipping heart rate each time I pushed. So Mommy and Daddy made the very hard decision to deliver you through surgery. Scary, but necessary.
Once we officially made the call, the situation blurred. Daddy was given protective gear and Mommy was quickly prepped for surgery. They wheeled me down the hall to an operating room and strapped me to a table where a very lovely anesthesiologist talked me through the next few steps. He was honestly so sweet – telling me I was an A+ patient for how calm I was being in the face of unplanned emergency surgery. But all I kept thinking was… what other choice do I have?!
I listened to the doctors and nurses as they ran down their pre-flight checklist, ensuring that they had everything they needed. As their conversation slid closer and closer to the first cut, I became worried that Daddy wasn’t in the room yet. To be honest, I was terrified they had forgotten about him (he was asked to stay in the hallway until I was fully prepped). Thankfully he showed up just in time.
What does a c-section feel like? It’s kind of hard to explain. You don’t feel pain, but you do feel… pressure. With every tug and pull near my tummy, I imagined the doctors pushing my organs out of the way to get to you. I couldn’t see anything, of course, because a large sheet intersected my body, blocking all the action. But before I knew what was happening, the doctor announced that we had a brand new baby boy and asked if we knew what his name was. And Daddy, who was still right by my side, confidently gave them your name.
Immediately, you were whisked over to the side of the room where Daddy ceremoniously trimmed your umbilical cord, and they cleaned and weighed you. And I cried, Baby Boy. I cried at the overwhelming feeling of what I had just done. I cried because after all of the waiting, I just wanted to hold you in my arms. I cried as my love for your Dad overcame me while watching him beam with pride as he watched his first son being placed in my arms.
And – of course – once I had hold of you, I cried a little more. I cried when they told me that your umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck and that your head was a little flatter than most, making it hard to get past my pelvic bone. I cried thinking back to all that pushing and your dipping heart rate and realizing what you must have been going through when all of that was happening. I cried with a grateful heart for the amazing nurses and doctors who helped shepherd you safely into the world without any issues.
Once I got ahold of myself, all I could think about was holing you forever. But we couldn’t hang out for long. I did still have a pretty big surgery to finish up.
So Daddy took you back to our room and held you skin-on-skin, while I stayed with the doctors so they could make sure that I was okay.
Baby, a lot more happened over the next few days; I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed for 24 hours.
24 hours.
That’s nearly a lifetime for a girl whose nickname from her parents is indicative of her inability to sit still. I’ll spare you the details of how that all went down exactly, but it meant Daddy had to do a lot of the heavy lifting (aka change your diaper, swaddle you, and take you to have tests done) in those first few days. Although I did stay up with you all night that first night. You cried every time we put you in your little hospital bassinet, so I held you and watched late night talk shows on TV with no sound because Dad and I couldn’t figure out how to turn it up. A silly detail, I know. But it’s one that I will cherish forever because it was more time that I had to breathe in your amazing new baby smell and hold you tightly as I began to love deeper than I had ever loved before.
And that’s how you came into this world, Little Man. It was a wild ride, but I was so happy to go on it with you.
Thank you for making me a mamma, baby boy, and for showing your dad and me what true love really looks like.
We love you to the moon and back.
Ashley Okimoto 