Those who know me, know that I worried nonstop about the baby I was carrying. My doctor knew I'd do anything for her. We often joked that if he told me standing on my head for a week would be good for her- I'd do it. I'm 37 and never thought I'd have this moment. I thought I'd blew it. I've had guilt over being able to get pregnant when others couldn't, having a baby when others lost theirs.
The last few weeks of my pregnancy, as I knew we wouldn't be going full-term, my doctor was "intentionally vague" with me. He told me he was being so. I developed polyhydramnios, extra fluid in my placenta. I had high blood pressure (at times topping 190/120), and I had a big baby inside.
Finally, he gave me about one week's notice. We talked about the options. Do I try to deliver vaginally or just do the csection? This, my friends, is the decision that will haunt me forever. He told me I had a 50/50 shot of having a csection, even after trying vaginally...and I decided to try.
I went to his office on Tuesday, October 8. He started the induction process with a balloon that helps you dilate. My mom, Michael and I went to Niki's for my last pregnant meal. Note: if you have the balloon procedure- go to a restaurant with comfy chairs. Then we reported to the hospital.
Contractions were the worst around midnight. They were horrible. Michael remained calm. My mom was doting- offering a cold cloth, rubbing my leg- basically putting herself in the lions den. Finally, the balloon came out and contractions improved.
Early the next morning, my amazing doctor came by. They broke my water- which was amazing. I loved the way it felt, and it kept gushing all day because I had extra fluid. I got the epidural, a catheter and slept most of the day.
Around 3, I think. We were ready to start pushing. That epidural stuff is amazing. Yes, I was pushing. I was having contractions, but they didn't hurt...and it was working. Kind of. I was updating Facebook, thought we were good to go.
5:30ish my doctor comes in and I announce, "It's time for the Hoover." At this point we thought she needed help getting out and so we tried for suction. This, my friends, did not work. My tailbone was too prominent and we had to go straight to csection.
I can't tell this story without crying, it hurts just to think about it. I was terrified. I've not had major surgery and they were about to cut me open. They didn't let Michael in while they prepped me. Then, when he came in, they explained just how it would go, when he could take pictures, everything. Except it didn't go that way. When they went in to get her, she was so far down in the birth canal, that they couldn't get her. Damn that Hoover. I remember excruciating pain on my upper abdomen and rib cage. I remember her coming out- but no cry. They never took our camera. Then, nurse after nurse after nurse- probably 20- poured in. No one would tell me what was happening. I just wanted to know she was okay.
But she wasn't. My baby girl, precious and wonderful, was not breathing at birth. The wonderful army of nurses helped her. They made her breathe. We finally heard a tiny cry. We didn't get to hold her, just a brief touch as they wheeled her to NICU...and took Michael with her.
I can't begin to describe the terror I felt. I wanted this baby more than life itself. Amy, my nurse for the whole day, stayed with me. I don't know if she had to. I don't want to know. I joked all day with her and my doctor all day that we had to deliver before Amy left at seven. She got down on her knees, looked me in the eye, and told me that my baby was going to be okay. She consoled me and reassured me...even after seven.
They wheeled me to my new room, and she stayed with me. She never left until I was settled and my family came in. At first, I got to see everyone for just a second. Then they sent them out for 30 minutes while I recovered. They sent them to NICU to see my girl. Those were long 30 minutes- I was so worried that my baby wasn't okay and there wasn't anyone to tell me. I remember when they walked in. My mom, Michael, my in-laws, Michael's aunt and uncle, Misty, Dra and Michelle. They were smiling and they promised me that my girl was okay.
God is so good. I don't remember much more of the night. I remember touching my baby for the first time, and seeing she was okay. I remember driving my nurse nuts that night- I was worried about HG and whether they'd tell me if she was doing well. I remember crying because- had I gone with my gut and had the csection- this wouldn't have happened.
What I need to remind myself is that everything happens for a reason. I don't ever want to have regrets because I'd alter the chain of my life events. The guilt doesn't make this easy, but my girl is okay. I know it because she sits in front of me now- grunting and making faces as she thinks about waking up.
We didn't have a normal delivery. We don't have footprints or the photo of Michael cutting the umbilical cord. We won't have those delivery moments, but we have our baby to make years of memories with. We will always cherish this picture. My amazing doctor, King Midas, holding G at our first appointment. This is a memory we didn't make at the hospital, but I'm so blessed we made it a week later. I couldn't thank him without crying. He saved my baby. He took care of me, and I adore him. 
This is the story of Harper Grace's arrival. I'm so thankful it has a happy ending and that I could tell it. I look forward to telling many more stories about this beautiful girl over the next 60 years.
Oh yea-and she will definitely be an only child.
J
