One year ago, Trent and I spent a Friday evening laying in
our bed, laughing hysterically.
I realized earlier that day that I could smell EVERYTHING at
work and joked to a coworker, “I could be pregnant.” I stopped dead in my
tracks; I really could be. We had started “trying,” so to speak, a few months
prior. I walked through the door after work and told Trent I needed to take a
pregnancy test. I took one, walked out of the bathroom, and we both went back
in three minutes later. A plus sign. The word “pregnant” stared back at us next
to a picture of a plus sign. We looked at each other. “Really? Do you think..?”
I took another. Another plus sign. This is when the hysterical laughter in our
bed kicked in. It was at least 7 pm before we went downstairs. His cousin
called, and he begged to tell him. It felt insane to hear my husband speak the
sentence “Hillary’s pregnant!” I did that instinctual belly touch. Trent talked
to our mustard seed-sized baby. I googled everything. I spent the next morning
reading “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” We had dinner with my family
that Saturday night, and my eagled-eyed mom and sister caught me turning down
wine, so the news spilled out. We drove straight to tell Trent’s parents from
there, and his mom screamed and cried.
A few weeks later, we had an ultrasound and our baby looked
like a gummy bear. Its heart was beating, everything measured perfectly. I
ordered a onesie for our nephew that said “I’m going to be a Big Cousin!” He
wore it to our extended family Halloween party and the floodgates of the good
news were wide open. I posted a picture of that tiny gummy bear online. I saw a
doctor every four weeks. I had dreams about pregnancy and birth and parenting.
The holidays came and I went from 10 weeks pregnant to 18 weeks pregnant in
what felt like 5 minutes.
I got a text from my dad one day that said “You’re having a
girl.” He told me all about his dream he’d had the night before about a
beautiful blonde girl. She looked at him and said “I’m Layla.” He was adamant
that our baby was his first granddaughter ever since. A few weeks later, with
him right there in the room, a particularly unpleasant ultrasound tech popped
“It’s a girl” on the screen and proved him right.
We turned a boring, empty room into the most beautiful,
immaculate nursery. We painted the room sea blue and hung L A Y L A on the
wall. We put purple sheets in her crib. Baby showers (with delicious cake)
filled her closet with clothes and her shelves with books and toys. We had what
felt like 800 baby swings, bouncers, chairs, and beds all over the house. I had
to bend forward to see my feet. I felt tiny vibrations in my belly.
The tiny vibrations turned to jabs and rolls. I regularly
thought I’d pee my pants (I somehow never did). I started going to the doctor
every other week, then every week. On May 31st, 2016, my very
no-nonsense (and amazing) doctor said “Your blood pressure isn’t terrible, but
it isn’t great. She’s fully developed and there’s no use keeping her in. How’s
tomorrow sound to have a baby?”
I ate a protein bar at 6 am on June 1st. I got
dressed and fed my dogs. We got in the car and made the familiar drive to
Community North. We got to our room, and a nurse told me to go ahead and get my
gown on. I paused for her to leave, and my husband looked at me with a smile,
“I think you can go ahead and get changed, babe.” Oh yeah. She’s going to see
all that today. Hm. Okay! I got an IV. Contractions were mild and I was
comfortable. We spent the morning watching daytime TV with our moms. They broke
my water. I had contractions two at a time. My amazing nurse assured me that an
epidural would be a breeze. 20 minutes later I learned that she was a
beautiful, truth-telling angel sent from heaven. I closed my eyes. I felt
painless sensations with every contraction. They grew more pronounced, and I
knew it was time. They told me I pushed for over an hour, but it felt like 10
minutes. My doctor held my baby and all I could say was “Oh my God.” My husband
cut her cord. A nurse said “Happy Birthday Layla.” My angel nurse stayed 30
minutes past the end of shift to see our baby girl.
My daughter was born almost 4 months ago, but I became a mom
one year ago today when I saw that plus sign. Those hysterical giggles were
filled with disbelief, fear, and overwhelming excitement. God trusted me with a
blonde baby girl named Layla (and apparently told my dad that before me)!
Every mom has their story, whether trying, expecting, or
experienced. Whether having a family is easy or difficult, brand new or 50
years in. Every mom had joy, pain, pride, fear, sickness, doubt, and love.
This is mine. And I thank God for all 365 days of it.
