Life is a sequence of experiences where we come to realize that living up to a standard of "normal" is not only boring -- but keeps us from enjoying the EXTRAordinary life that God has put right in front of our face.
November 1, 2010.
As I laid down on the examination table, I held my breath while the ultrasound technician took measurements of the baby. We had come to know each other very well as this was my 3rd ultrasound in the past month and I had come to be known as the "little girl having the 10 pound baby that is two weeks overdue" around the office.
"Well...the baby is measuring at...10 pounds, 9 ounces. 10 pounds, 5 ounces. 10 pounds, 7 ounces," the technician said timidly.
I looked at my mom. My mom looked at me with a combination of sympathy and amusement.
Up until this point, I had held on to the hope that I would have a "normal" delivery. I'd be at home on the couch eating cheesecake, frenchfries, and ice tea. While watching the "Hangover" for the 120th time, I would be in the middle of a hearty laugh when my water would break. I'd call Patrick who would stop whatever dental procedure he was conducting and would rush home. After running around the house for 30 minutes trying to make sure that we had everything -- we'd rush off to the hospital where after 24 hours in labor - I give one final push and PRESTO! -- Baby Roman would finally make his entrance into the world.
However....
After 41 weeks and 5 days of pregnancy; after gaining 45 pounds of extra human, fluid, and fat; after 3 months and sleeping in a loveseat; and after 2 months of mild hemmoroids -- I finally let go of my expectations of an "ideal" labor and excepted the reality of my situation.
The look of exhaustion on my face must have spoke volumes. My OB/GYN didn't ask what I wanted to do, she simply said -- "Okay. I am going to get on the phone to book an OR for tomorrow morning at 8:30. You and your husband will have to be at Northwestern by 6:30 am. Don't eat anything after 9:00 pm."
I nodded in agreement and asked my mother to pass me my phone as I texted my husband the following message:
"Hey babe. Take off tomorrow. We are going to have the baby tomorrow at 8:30."
The evening that followed was surreal. After months of anticipation and weeks of uncertainty I knew without a shadow of a doubt that in less than 24 hours I would be a mother. I wondered momentarily if I was ready. I wondered if my husband was ready. I wondered if I'd feel like I missed out on what a "real" labor was supposed to feel like. I wondered if I would wish that I could stick the baby back "in" once he was here.
My thoughts raced throughout the night pondering exactly what the next day held in store for me and how my life would change. But no sooner than when I finally drifted off to sleep around midnight was it time for me to wake up to go to the hospital to have the baby.
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