Today I celebrate life.
More specifically, the live of Evangeline Rose Law.
Today is my Eva's birthday. The past two years have came and gone so quickly, I swear I blinked. The emotions of seeing and holding her in my arms for the very first time are, occasionally, still so fresh and raw. I had to have an emergency cesarean delivery because I wouldn't dilate any further than 4, Eva was stuck in the birth canal, and the doctor was worried about her rapid heart rate and my blood pressure. Nothing went according to plan. I was scheduled to be induced on my due date, but Eva didn't come until two days later, which was by c-section. I was an emotional wreck, and extremely disappointed that nothing was going as I'd planned. But something I've come to find out is that our plans never go according to plan. Ultimately, it's all in God's hands.
Anyway, I had already had an epidural for 5-6 hours by the time the doctor decided a cesarean delivery was necessary. I had started feeling contractions come on pretty strong again, which of course meant the epidural wasn't effective anymore. I was taken back to surgery and prepped, where they gave me a few more doses, but I was still experiencing pain, especially when the doctor poked me in the abdomen with something sharp (I was hit with a horrible thought that I was going to feel the knife cut through my belly, and the doctors pull my baby out). They told me they couldn't give me a spinal, since I had already had an epidural, and I heard something mentioned about putting me under. I was so scared for some reason, lying on that table, staring up at a big light, in pain, shaking uncontrollably (seriously, I couldn't stop, as hard as I tried), and not knowing what was about to happen. It didn't help that I was stretched out on what seemed like a torture table, with my arms spread out wide and all. The next thing I knew someone put something over my mouth and nose, which at first made me feel so claustrophobic that I couldn't breathe, until someone gently told me too.
I don't remember anything after that, until I groggily woke up back in my room. Everything was blurry, everything hurt, especially my throat and chest from the tube they put down my throat. Almost immediately a nurse started pushing on my stomach and I practically screamed in pain. I was so disoriented, and it was the weirdest feeling I've ever experienced, waking up like that and not remembering anything. Dannie was sitting by my side, my hand in his, and I remember his voice was so soft and gentle as he called my name, which was the first thing I heard. There was only one thought in my mind, which were my first words, "where's my baby?" I felt like my voice was slurred, and I couldn't say what I wanted. Because I was so emotional I felt frantic, wondering where Eva was. Dannie told me she was still getting cleaned up, and it wasn't long before a nurse brought her in.
I wish I had a bottle of those emotions I felt as they laid her on my chest. I was crying, but my tears weren't so much from the pain as they were from joy and overwhelming love. Eva was born 8 pounds 4 ounces, 20.5 inches, so she wasn't exactly a tiny baby, but there in my arms she felt so small and breakable. It took me weeks before I felt like she wasn't going to break just from holding her. I was overjoyed that I finally had my baby in my arms, but some of those tears were also because I completely missed out on her birth, and that really distressed me. For the longest time I was a little angry inside that I wasn't awake when she was born, and that I missed out, not only a natural delivery, but also on being awake during her birth. It still bothers me somewhat if I dwell on it, but thankfully not near like it used to. In the end, all that mattered was a happy, healthy baby, born with no extreme complications.
The following two nights Dannie and I didn't get much sleep, because Eva kept us up most of the night crying. She absolutely wouldn't sleep unless one of us walked around with her. As soon as we'd stop, try to lay her down, or even sit down ourselves, she'd wake up and start wailing. I was excessively wore out, so I was actually relieved when the nurses had to take her away for a bath. My eyes just wouldn't stay open, and plus it hurt to even move in the slightest. Dannie helped out as much as he could, but even he needed rest. Another thing that didn't help was Eva had some trouble for a couple of days when I'd try to breastfeed her, but there I was, a new mom, and even though I was the oldest of eight kids, I had absolutely no idea what to do. I felt like an overwhelmed failure, but thank God for the nurses who helped me over and over again when Eva just wouldn't eat. It's not that she wouldn't eat, but that she had trouble learning how at first. Thankfully after a couple of days/extremely long nights she (and I) got the hang of things and didn't have anymore difficulty.
We were able to take Eva home on the following Thursday night (she was born on a Tuesday night at 7:40), and honestly, as much as I yearned to be in the comfort of my own home, I wondered why in the world the doctor would even let us leave, when I felt like I didn't know enough to take care of a wee little baby. However, those fears calmed down after a few days of settling into routine and normal life again. The first couple of nights home were pretty difficult, as Eva just wouldn't sleep, which of course stressed us out since we couldn't sleep, but it wasn't long before she was sleeping at least somewhat through the night. I found that swaddling her in a cocoon really helped, as well as being near me. Until about 6-9months she'd still wake up a couple of times during the night, nurse, and then go back to sleep. But I was thankful, because that meant sleep for me, and I'd heard stories from mothers whose babies would wake up every two hours to nurse, so I knew I didn't have it too bad.
Ever since then it's been constant learning. Being first time parents is never easy (although being parents, no matter how many times over, is never easy either), and Dannie and I are learning just as much as Eva is. We have failed in so many areas, and continue to fail every day, but no one's perfect, which is why we don't have perfect kids. We're all human, and we all make mistakes, but the key is faith and consistency. It's tempting to give up when it seems hopeless, and sometimes we wonder why even keep trying? But it's all worth it, every little bit of pain and hardship, because it's a little life that God has entrusted to us, to raise for Him and His glory.
Life is always worth celebrating, because it is such a precious gift- one that too many people take for granted. I'm so thankfully for the tradition of birthdays, that give each and every one of us a specific day to celebrate our life with family and friends. Today is all about Eva's life, even as short as it's been thus far, and the hope of celebrating many more in the future. I talk about her going through the "terrible twos" stage, and in the past few months I've been very frustrated as she daily tests my patience with her stubborn, rebellious, independent spirit, but never do I regret becoming a mom at 19. It would be easy to wonder what life would be like at 21 with no child responsibilities, but that would be terribly selfish. We live in such a selfish generation that young people don't want responsibility, especially when it comes to kids, but I'm so thankful it was God's plan to bless me and Dannie with a child so early on in our marriage. She was taught us in countless ways, and helped us grow and mature together as a couple.
I wanted to write this post for remembrance of my birth story, what few details I can actually still remember after two years (I blame it all on my mom brain), but I'd also like to wish my sweet Evangeline a Happy Birthday, even though she's two and doesn't grasp the meaning of today. But I do, and even though she won't remember anything from these early years, I will. Happy Birthday, sweet girl. You are so loved so much.
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