Pregnancy, out with a bang. (The body that Trent built)

**Originally posted @LJ on 12/22/10**


So, here we are, 6 weeks to the day after little Trenton entered our lives with such force and inpact it nearly swept us up off our feet. I think it may have, in hindsight, because as stupid as it sounds, it felt like I was floating for days, my mind clouded.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's true that your heart grows with every child that you have. You feel like you couldn't possibly have any more love to give and then BAM. This miracle comes into your life and you are flooded with so many emotions it almost makes you crazy.. and nothing is different this time around.


I remember when Hailey was born, I didn't feel a bond with her right away. I still have a hard time admitting that, to this day. I remember she was in the bassinet next to my bed and I kept looking over at her and feeling this detachment. I didn't dare tell anyone at the time, with begin SO young and inexperienced, the feelings terrified me. As I look back and remember, I'm sure it was the fact that she was taken from me and fed her while they were stitching me. (she was born naturally after over 40 hours and I had a 4th degree tear) She was gone from me for nearly 3 hours before they brought her back and after that, she wouldn't latch and I had to bottle feed, which was devastating. It took me a few days before I started feeling that *feeling* towards her, the one that everyone talks about, the one I knew I was supposed to feel.


When Kaleb was born, it was a whirlwind. My water broke at 32+2 weeks and I did not go into labour. Eventually, at 33 weeks they induced, and he was born without complications (other than being premature, obviously) after only 7 hours. Again, my newborn child was taken from me, without even first being placed in my arms. He was put in neonatal intensive care where he remained for just over 3 weeks. He was fed expressed breastmilk through a tube in his nose. He was strapped to a table with IV's in his little body as he was being treated for jaundice. The first time I held him, he was almost 2 days old. I loved him right away, I did, but the bond wasn't there immediately, yet again.

Trenton is our third child, but the first planned baby. I wanted him so badly. We stopped using precautions in August of last year (right before our wedding) and I got pregnant right away. I was shocked but so happy. I called my best friend and told some of my family right away.. then, at 7 weeks, I miscarried while Rob was away on business. I remember being in the bathroom and saying to myself, "No, no, no, no, no!!" out loud when I saw what was happening. I felt no pain and I healed very quickly. Life went on, and Rob and I continued our very relaxed approach to "not not trying" for another baby. We didn't want to use ovulation kits, or calculate days and numbers and use pH strips. We just wanted to let it be.. While he was taking a relaxed approach I was feeling like a failure every time I would get a period. Getting anxious 2 days before the expected date and taking a (failed) pregnancy test.
5 months later, I was pregnant again. It was Hailey's 7th birthday party and I knew. I knew I was pregnant. I took a test and there they were, those 2 little pink lines...
Fast forward to Trent's birthday. Like you know, I was determined to prove my c-section-happy OB wrong and deliver my "HUGE BABY" naturally. After all, how the hell did he know what I could or couldn't do?? They estimated Trenton's weight to be 10lb, 2oz... I said no way he's that big, those things aren't accurate at all, blah blah. 5 days later, when he was born, he weighed 10lb, 4oz.
I still find it hard to say "birth" when I talk or think about the day he was.. born. It felt so much more like an extraction.
"Happy first extraction day, Trenton!!".. imagine the looks on everyone's faces.
Anyway. There I was, strapped to the table. I had laboured, hard, for 13 hours.. determined to deliver him the way I had planned, determined to have a normal birth.
I had this image in my mind of what it would be like.. he would come out, pink and perfect and they would put him on my chest. Rob would exclaim, "It's a boy!" happily, then cut the cord. There he would stay. On my chest. They would clean him while he lay there. We would breastfeed right away. Life would be perfect. Nobody would take my baby away.
I tried.. I really did. My contractions were around 2 minutes apart from the beginning. 13 hours went by and I was fully dilated, but Trenton was still way up there, and was not descending. I tried pushing, something felt... wrong. I realized that things weren't going to happen for us and I gave up.
"Just do it." I said, after the doctor offered to give me another hour, but warned me of an emergency c-section. "Don't prolong the inevitable'.
They rushed to start prepping for surgery, and while I don't remember much, I clearly remember saying, "I failed."

Out he came, pink and perfect, and then taken away. I was too drugged to care. Numb from my armpits down to my toenails, trying to stay awake on the table so I could at least see him before I fell into a deep sleep. I don't even remember hearing him cry.

When all was said and done and the fog cleared away, he didn't leave my side. We spent those 4 days together in the hospital in bed together, figuring each other out. I spent my time inspecting his fingers and toes and his little hairs and smelling his head and listening to him breath... running my fingers gently over the little bruises on his arms. He tried too.. he tried to come down, but he was stuck, we just didn't fit... and had he been born naturally, he could have broken a clavicle or displaced a shoulder and where would we be then?? We spent our time nursing and sleeping. They tried to get me to supplement since he was feeding every 40-60 minutes and I said, "Fuck no!" This was mine. My time. We were going to do this. And we did. I have never felt so victorious in all my life.
And you know what? The bond is there, stronger than ever.

This third and last baby.. he sure has left his mark. He has left me with skin I can pull off my belly and up over my head. With wrinkles around my belly button and a badass scar where he was pulled from my body.
He left me marked and scarred and bruised to remind me of my journey through pregnancy and delivery. To remind me that life doesn't always go the way it's supposed to, even when you want it more than anything in the world. That you might feel like a complete failure, but that things happen for a reason, and in the end, everything is going to be okay.