A few things keep coming back to me about Emily's birth, over and over. The first is the amazing way the timing worked for me to get my VBAC. If Maddie hadn't thrown a three-hour fit, I would have gone in in the middle of the first OB-on-call's shift instead of at the end, and I would have been cut. If we hadn't hit every red light, a five minute trip wouldn't have taken twenty minutes. I would have been cut. If I had accepted the wheelchair, the walk down the hall wouldn't have taken as long. I would have been cut. If the new OB-on-call was in the hospital when I showed up, instead of in her office, I would have been cut. If a different anesthesiologist had been on call, I would have been cut. It came down to literally minutes between repeat cesarean and VBAC. I don't know what to make of it. My first instinct is to think that someone was watching out for me. But I still can't shake the "why me?" feeling that comes with that. Why would God be watching out for me, making it all go right for me, when it has gone so wrong for other women I know? I can't make sense of that in my head.
Still though, I am grateful. I never thought I'd be grateful for a gigantic fit in the middle of labor. But I am. I never thought I'd be grateful for red lights or long hallways. But I am. I am so grateful. I will never remember Emily's birth without a sense of awe at the timing perfection.
The second thing I can't stop thinking about is the impact of Maddie's arrival (I cannot bring myself to call it a birth) and Emily's birth on my relationship with Chris. We were discussing divorce after Maddie came. After Emily, we have never been closer. Almost the only thing I remember from that long night of labor in the basement is Chris holding me and talking me through the contractions. He was my rock, my protector, my support. We grew so close through the experience. I feel like I'm doing a horrible job of putting it into words. Maybe there are no words. I love him. He loves me. That is enough. That is everything.
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