Perhaps you’ve heard the story and maybe you haven’t. In any case here it goes.
My pregnancy was super easy. No morning sickness, I only gained 15 pounds (easy enough when you start out having to watch what you’re eating) basically my body took it like a champ. Other than the back pain and the last month and a half having acid reflux – those things weren’t fun. And you know (Or maybe you don’t), having another little person in your body is a very weird experience and I never quite got used to feeling her moving around. On May 17th of 2014, we were at a graduation party, eating good food and hanging out. I got a weird feeling in my tummy that night. I slept too well. Usually she was flipping around or at least kicking me awake a couple times per night. So I woke up and pushed her around a bit. And when I say pushed I mean it. She didn’t respond. I told her dad we needed to head to the hospital because I couldn’t remember the last time I felt her move.
Of course we’re both scared. I’m pretty sure we went in the same clothes we slept in or maybe we threw on sweats. Don’t remember. I do remember driving to St. Luke’s downtown and trying not to cry. Trying to stay calm. Trying to keep positive thoughts in my mind. I called my mom on the way. We park and ultimately decide to go to the ER. They wheel me up (mandatory I guess) to the birthing floor, I fill out some paperwork and we wait a short time. Long story short they hook me up to a monitor, and there’s her heartbeat. I’ve never felt such relief in my life. Short lived relief because not 20 minutes later the nurse comes in and says the doctor on call was watching my monitor, and the contractions are cutting off her oxygen. Prep for emergency C-section.
The Oxygen mask is on, IVs in my arms, epidural in the back (so uncomfortable) and I’m on the table before it even crosses my mind that this wasn’t how I imagined it happening. The drugs, the curtain, the table shaking as they manhandled my cut open tummy. I’ll spare you any graphics.
And then this yellow, slimy little thing is being held over the curtain with her scrunched up little face, crying. And I remember a little goop falling off her and thinking oh, there she is! Seriously what kind of first thought is that?! And as they’re sewing me up the NICU nurse is saying how HE is doing good and her dad has to reassure me as I begin hyperventilating that SHE is beautiful and fine and amazing.
And then I don’t remember anything until I’m waking up in the room and telling someone (my mom I think) that my arms are fine and I want to hold her. How surreal it was having this little baby placed in my arms, knowing logically that she was mine and had just been pulled out of me into the world, but I just couldn’t connect the dots (damn drugs) until later that night when she kept waking up to eat. And eat. And eat. I wasn’t bothered one bit. Matter fact I wanted to just hold her and look at her.
Needless to say after all of that hub bub she was healthy and we took her home two days later. And now it’s been an entire year. I can’t imagine BEING something more challenging, more rewarding, or more frustrating. I can’t imagine crying more over the silliest things, grinning harder at her triumphs, being more protective, loving anything or anyone more fiercely.
Kayree Lashell you are the best thing, the brightest light, the happiest smile, the most upbeat, the sassiest, and the most loved little girl in this whole world.
Here’s to the first year!