Things Forgotten, Missed, and (need to be) Remembered

It's true what they say about childbirth...you forget everything that happens, all the pain is erased, the moment you see your baby. It's as if someone has graciously snipped off that part of the ribbon of your memory to ensure that the process of life is not put to a dead halt for fear of the pain of delivery.

My experience, this time around, was rather strange. A few days before my delivery date, that part of the ribbon was suddenly returned to me. All of a sudden, I remembered the pain I went through giving birth to Enrique. I remembered the pain of the IV, the discomfort of the spinal tap, the almost violent pressure on my tummy for force Enrique out, and the sharp, sharp, unrelenting abdominal pain of the recovery after. So, you can't blame me for kind of freaking out as the delivery date grew closer. I was torn between relief that it was almost over, and fear for what was to come.

And so I braced myself. I expected the worst; at least I knew it couldn't be worse than the last time. But the universe works in mysterious ways, and there were other plans for me this time around. Like Enrique, I had some pretty strong contractions the night before, which threatened to move up my delivery date. I didn't have so much sleep. And I had to wait for my OB who was running late. I was a bundle of nerves by the time they wheeled me in.

And here begins my experience of Divine intervention. My anesthesiologist, whom I have been with for the last two births, changes his style. He gives me something to calm me down, and then I feel nothing. No pain of the spinal tap. There was no violent pushing on my belly. I see my son, I hear his lusty cry and I experience an overwhelming calm that everything was going to be all right. I regain consciousness as they are cleaning me up, and am awake in the recovery room. Still no pain. Of course, I credit this to the lovely morphine drip that's giving me the itches...but hey, itch or ouch? No contest there.

I am later wheeled into my room and I wait for the onset of the discomfort I have been expecting. It does not come. And when they remove the IV and catheter, and as I brace myself for the short, but seemingly forever, walk to the bathroom, I am greeted with surprisingly very little pain discomfort. In fact, I could have walked by myself to the loo. Recovery is so quick that my doctor discharges me Saturday afternoon, a mere 2 days after surgery. I am astounded at my recovery; I wasn't aware that this was possible. But, don't get me wrong. I am truly grateful.

And while hubby and I were camping out at the hospital, my kids were making waves at lolo and lola's house. They were having a blast eating out; they were taking over Lolo's tv (much to his dismay); they were eating a loooot of pancakes. At some point, Hannah and Mateo were overheard to have this conversation:

Hannah: I'm not getting married. I don't want to give birth!
Mateo: You have to get married!!
Hannah: Mateo, don't force me. It's my decision to make!

My little girl is truly an old lady trapped in an 8 year old body.

Raul's presence has already begun to change us. Mateo has transformed into some super older brother. When Raul cries, asking to be fed, Mateo keeps telling him, "that's okay Raul, you're safe," or "Kuya's here Raul, you're okay." With matching super gentle stroking of Raul's feet (or head, if he can get away with it). Enrique has been coming in and out of the room, eternally asking "Where's baby Raul?" And peers over the crib. Hannah has been herding her brothers, making sure that they behave around Raul.

And as I am thrust into motherhood yet again; as I struggle with early morning feedings and diaper changes and burping and lack of sleep, I am gifted with the snuggles of an infant falling asleep on my chest. I am rewarded with the soft baby fuzz as I softly move my lips across his head. And I am intoxicated by the baby breath as he nestles and falls asleep.

Such are the experiences I never want to forget.

Checking In

Am leaving for the hospital in an hour or so. My bags are semi-packed. The goodies I want to eat (when I finally can) have been set aside. The baby bag is full of the essentials (read: home bound outfits, bottles, wipes). I've snuggled with my kids, and inhaled their not-so-baby smells, a pabaon for the time that I will not be able to see them (or smell them) or hold them in my arms. I've got my books, my crochet threads and needles, and videos, all ready for the dead time I've got to spend while recuperating.

But all this while, I cannot shake my nerves. I guess its all part of knowing what awaits me. The darned spinal tap can be somewhat painful. And recuperating can be a b*&$%, especially if my OB has to cut through muscle, like the last time. Damn, I forgot to talk to her about that....

And so, my shout out to the universe: send us everything positive. Watch over Raul. Let me have a safe and uncomplicated delivery. Allow us to go home together. Let us be a family of six, and me a mother of four.