a baby story

It was the week after our wedding, and I was standing in front of our bathroom mirror, brushing my teeth. Dressed in a billowy shirt for the Renaissance Faire we were going to that day. It made me look pregnant.

“I’m late,” I say to Alec, and myself. A week late, actually. I just figured it was due to the wedding stress. “Typical pre-period symptoms though,” I said, doing my body a once-over in the mirror, checking off the acne, bloating, dry hair. A faint dark line running from my belly button to the top of my leggings. Wait. Not that. That was new. I remembered seeing that same line of pictures of pregnant bellies, and quickly sent Alec out for a test. Sure enough (and to our shock) I was pregnant! I still remember the thrill between us, the life-changing secret we kept. We let our parents and close friends into the secret bubble after a week, and then announced to the world at 8 weeks.

The rest of my pregnancy was lovely up until the third trimester, I didn’t have much morning sickness other than some acid reflux that made me want to eat. A lot. From the very beginning, I had a feeling that our baby was a girl, and the ultrasound confirmed it on Valentine’s Day. We were over the moon, and so were our families. A baby girl, coming from families of all boys (except me)!

Seeing as I’m only 5’4″, things started to get heavy around 32 weeks. I quit my retail job and nested like crazy, becoming quite a recluse. 39 weeks and 1 day in, it happened. I had been experiencing labor symptoms for weeks, but on June 23rd, they wouldn’t go away. Alec had to convince me to go to the hospital, as we had a few false alarms before, and I didn’t want to feel like an idiot for possibly another one. But the contractions became stronger and stronger, so we grabbed the bags I packed weeks in advance and headed to Chester Country Hospital.

After our check-in, the nurse confirmed I was in labor and had us walk around the labor wing for an hour. Things started to get more intense and I was checked into a room. Yay! Wow I was nervous. Not omg-I’m-going-to-die- nervous, more like omg-I’m-about-to-meet-the-love-of-my-life type nervous. About 4cm in, they brought in the anesthesiologist to perform the epidural. I. Hate. Needles. But I was sure as heck happy to see that doctor! We really struggled with the epidural, every time he put in the needle, it felt like it was hitting a nerve and my body wanted to jolt upright…but I wasn’t supposed to move. Twenty minutes of hell later, it seemed to be working, so they gave me pitocin and I laid down to rest. Not even an hour later, I was in excruciating pain again. The epidural had failed. The anesthesiologist was called, we redid it, and it seemed to take. Key word: seemed. It lasted for a few hours, but tapered off into nothing. I was almost at 10cm, and our girl was in a weird position. They shoved a weird peanut-shaped yoga ball between my knees, and had me roll from side to side every 30 minutes. I just have to say, man, was Alec amazing throughout this whole thing! My personal cheerleader and steady rock, dabbing my forehead and holding the vomit bucket when I needed it. Soon, I was feeling 10cm contractions and it was time to push.

I don’t even want to talk about pushing. If you can imagine what pooping out all your organs feels like, that would be close. I pushed for about an hour and then I about had it. When I had checked in, I was all glammed for an uninterrupted day out, makeup on and hair blown out. Now, my hair was damp and mussed, my face streaky and wet with sweat. I needed this baby out- NOW. I ripped off my fake lashes and handed them to Alec. “Hold onto these,” I commanded, and then pushed as hard as I could. And that was that! Suddenly, she was here and screaming! All I could think about was how I wanted to hold her, see her. It seemed like it took years for the nurses to dry her off and place her on my chest. So surreal, that moment. We cooed and marveled over her every movement and breath, and introduced her to the name we had so thoughtfully picked out for her. Wren Elisabeth Curry.

Every day, we blink and she’s older, finding new interests, discovering new abilities. She adds to our family in the most perfect way, and we love her with all of our hearts. We wish you all the happiness in your years to come, sweet girl.



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