I am trying out a fun little prompt this week by participating in Jess Turner’s Throw Back Thursday linkup. It’s a great way to do a little writing on some memories that currently take up residence only in your mind. Plus, I want to tell a little more of the story of Mike and I and our boys.
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If every birth went like Cooper’s, I’m sure I would have 10 children. I’m positive of it. His whole pregnancy and birth were easy and lovely and warm and glowy and just a sweet time for our family.
I would say it was when we had Cooper that we went from still feeling like Mike and Hayley (plus a baby) to feeling like a full-fledged family…the Morgans. We still look really young and naive and we look really…at peace. It might be nostalgia softening the edges, but my memories of this time are really warm and peaceful. Life felt simple, and we felt like we had a place in the world. We were starting to get a little antsy in Charlotte, because we had no family nearby, but for the most part we really loved it there.
Before Cooper was born, I was preparing myself for another crazy delivery like Noah’s. His labor was fast, fast, fast for a first time baby–and I wasn’t able to get an epidural until 9cm. I remember nothing lovely about his labor or birth or my time recovering. I remember fear and white hot blinding pain. I never could get ahead of the pain, and that scared me more than anything.
With Cooper’s birth, we were prepared. I had talked all 9 months with my midwife about my fear of having him in the car, my fear of no pain relief, and my fear of a long recovery from birth. She assured me that she’d work to make sure none of those things came to pass.
And, she was right. I walked in to the hospital that evening in very early early slow maybe labor but at a crazy 5-6cm (the day before the 38 week legal cutoff that they are allowed to augment labor…it’s since changed to 39 weeks). She pulled some strings and allowed me to be admitted to the hospital to have my water broken. Mike put on a playlist, she dimmed the lights, I got my epidural while I still felt pretty good, and then she broke my water. She anticipated it wouldn’t be long, and let us know that she’d be just out in the hall reading the middle book of the Twilight series. She jabbered a bit about how ridiculous she was for reading these crazy new books, but they were addictive and she didn’t mind the distraction during the wait.
So, Mike and I sat in the room alone. The lights were dim, the music was soft, and we were able to sit in silence. Then, we just talked quietly, the easy and free kind of words that come from years of being together. About 45 minutes later she came back in to check on things.
After a super fast labor like his brother, it was time for Cooper to make his way into the world. Our midwife sat at the end of the bed, without all the lights and the crazy plastic hazmat masks and shiny utensils. There was one other nurse just to the side, and she was so kind and quiet. No stirrups or stress, I pushed a couple times and Cooper just plopped himself unceremoniously into our midwife’s hands. She never left her perch at the edge of the bed, and it felt like the most calm and natural thing in the world. I remember Wonderwall and Ray Lamontagne playing in the background.
Not too long after that, I wanted a turkey sub from our favorite grocery store across the street and the 2008 presidential debates were starting. So, Mike left to get us some sandwiches and Cooper and I snuggled up on the bed and flipped on the TV. I called my mom and then listened to history being made in our country. All in all, it was a really good night.