It's been a little while. Apparently I have had this horrible writers block for a couple years. I should go to blogger jail for such neglect! But don't feel bad my non-existent viewers. It is not only this, but my journal has been untouched for the past 2 years as well, minus a few blurbs here and there whenever I remember it exists.
I always wanted to remember my life well; each little moment that made me laugh or cry or smile or just wonder why things happen the way they do. A journal/blog is a brilliant way to do this. Even if no one but yourself reads it, which is the case in my case. Who else would want to remember as much about your life as you anyway? I can't think of anyone.
Amara was born on January 30, 2012. My baby, my bubs, angle, muffin, moosey, mar bear, and every other baby pet name that pops into my head in that instance. She is the light of my life. And has been for almost an entire year.
Wait....WHAT?!
It has been ONE YEAR (almost) since I birthed the most precious human being I have ever met out of my extremely swollen lady parts (tmi?)??
Ha! Birth. What a ride. I have never been one to have period cramps, so when my OBGYN told me what signs of labor to watch out: period like cramping, a "bloody show" or the obvious occurrence of my water breaking, the only thing that really stood out was period cramps. Period cramps? But I have had the luxury of never experiencing such a thing before...Have No Fear! The moment you start contracting, you know. Now, I am not going to pitch some horror story of how absolutely painful it all was or how I screamed and cursed at everybody in the room due to the unbearable agony. Actually, I labored at home for 2 easy hours; jumped the entire time I showered and hopped everywhere else I had to go in the house to get things moving a little quicker. And move they did! We walked into the hospital around 12 pm ready to go, and apparently I was ready to go because I was already dilated 5 cm. Yay! The best part? I felt wonderful.
Alas, there is no such thing as easy hard labor. Giving birth is painful. Once my water was broken (by the hands..well...tools of my OB) Amara wanted out. Like, let's get this party started, Mom! Pain, pain, pain. Thank God for the breaks in contractions because I don't see how any human can undergo such an intense pain without suffocating themselves trying to breathe right and then not wanting to breathe at all...at the same. There is no way to describe what hard contractions feel like other than this: someone is twisting all of your insides into an extremely tight rope and then tying that rope into 10 knots afterward. You. Cannot. Breathe. Not normal breaths, anyway. Short and quick. In, out and right back in again without any time to think.
1.5 hours of that was enough for me.
EPIDURAL = God's gift to all women giving birth.
Now I know that if I had really focused and prayed hard, I could have pulled through the pain and got the job done without it. I must admit, though, I could have kissed the anesthesiologist. Right on the mouth. It was the most amazing, numbing warmth I have ever felt in my entire life. Smoooooth sailing from there on out. Like I said, I got to the hospital at 12 pm and Pop goes the Weasel! at 4:45 pm. Pushed for about 10 minutes and out my crying girl came :) Along with the odd tugging sensation of the placenta being removed from inside of me. Now that is something strange to picture. We stayed in the hospital for 2 nights and left on a very bright, sunny and surprisingly warm February afternoon. Spent a good 10 weeks looking like I was 20 weeks pregnant and wearing jumbo pads and sweatpants to hold me together and to hide my temporary balls (swelling gets violent!) everywhere. It really is crazy how much blood one little contracting uterus can produce. It's like your body was saving it all up from the 8 months of missed periods while you were pregnant and then just lets the waterfall fall. Definitely my least favorite part of the whole process. If only all of it could be as easy as conception...ah well. It is what it is.
And...writers block is hitting again. I just feel like my words or so bland and story boring in this post. Why is it that I have NO motivation or clever wit to offer up right now? What happened to me?!?!
I wish I knew. What I do know is that it's dinner and bath time for the little one. May inspiration strike upon me soon. Please? I miss having the ability to turn language in art. It's horrible to pick up a pen and produce nothing more than a few random, frustrating doodles. It really is.
UGH.
I'll be around,
Heather
