The one about “amnesia”

Almost 1 year and 4 months ago I had a baby. In a few weeks I’ll be going into labor again to give birth to my second son.
When I was little I heard stories of mommies having babies and how horrible of an event it was. Sometimes the mommies even died! I heard about this through a country song on the radio, so I knew that it must have been at least as common as rodeo cowboys with long distance lovers. The screaming, sweating, irate women on TV scared the ever living out of me! In any case, I wanted my own baby by the time I was 9. This is mostly due to the fact that I was consistently reassured throughout my childhood that moms are given the gift of amnesia regarding labor and delivery and the reason they continue to have babies is because they forget the pain, forget the fear, and forget generally all negative memories of it. I accepted this information and proceeded forward with my plan.

However, I now realize that I never fully completed my research. I should have included an expected onset date for the amnesia. Perhaps if I had an ETA, I could have planned the spacing between my children better. I suppose I was under the impression that I would forget within the first few weeks of the baby’s life.

Here I am creeping up on my due date and each time I allow myself to think about the delivery I experience a significant amount of anxiety. I have experienced this anxiety throughout the whole pregnancy, all the while fully expecting my “amnesia” to set in at any time.

The problem, you see, is that I do remember. I remember the pain, I remember the frustration I had with myself for not being able to make it easier, I remember the hopeless feeling that it wasn’t going to end. I remember trying to make decisions based on the least amount of sacrifice and the safest, healthiest outcome. I remember fighting to stay strong and determined, while battling wanting to give up (not that it was an option, but it was the state of mind). I remember squirming both physically and mentally and searching desperately for relief.

Reed’s birth, as beautiful and wonderful as the event was- was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. Afterwards, I was very focused on the outcome (baby Reed) and had detached myself somewhat from the journey it took to get there. Plus there was plenty to distract us those first few days in the hospital, with all the tests and procedures Reed had to endure.

I also hadn’t fully realized at the time, just how much in jeopardy Reed’s life was during his birth. It was clearly spelled out on our discharge paperwork, which I read after coming home from the hospital. (I pushed for nearly 3 hours. At the end, Reed got stuck at his chest and was without life support for 3 minutes, because the birth canal had clamped his umbilical cord.)

I was in labor for 28 hours. I promise you, I remember each of those 28 hours. Gave up at 12 hours and got the epidural, which I initially declined and was determined not to have, then pushed for over 2 and a half hours before having my baby whisked across the room before I could even lay eyes on his tiny face.

I’m planning on this labor being a completely different story- but the key word here is “Labor”, which it still will be. Either way, I’m pushing this baby out.

I want to have this baby, but I don’t really want to have this baby. I also don’t want a c-section; I can’t imagine trying to care for an infant and a toddler while recovering from surgery!
This blog post may have some of you thinking what weenie I am. Especially you moms out there, but that can be explained. You were fortunate enough to experience the amnesia that I was so crudely robbed of. This fear and anxiety that I’m having about my “D-day” is clearly evidence of that!