Eight years ago, on June 11, I sat in my midwife's office for my daily blood pressure check and found myself in a hospital bed that evening. It took 18 months, a ferttilty specialist, an insulin resistance diagnosis and the metforming presciption to get pregnant. It took a lot more than that emotionally, because infertillty is a hard reality to face, but I'm glad we didn't give up.
I learned what hyperemisis gravidarum was at just 8 weeks, and at 12 weeks, during another visit to the ER for resulting dehydration, I learned that it is, actually, possible to hate being pregnant because full-term HG is A Thing. By the time my blood pressure started showing signs of preeclampsia and the drama to come, I'd been hospitalized thre times for dehydration, and had still gained 45 pounfs, because I am probably the only woman on the planet who can be that sick for 6 months straight and still gain weight.
At 36 weeks and six days, I waited for morning for our baby.
The rest I can skip cover, touching on only the highlights
* I was induced.
* Pitocin sucks.
* The question: "Would you like the birthing mirror on the ceiling" is the funniest question in the hidtory of the universe and my only response is crazed laughter.
* Labor pains didn't impress me until I dilated to a 7.
* Labor pains from 7-9 impressed me so much so that they made me pray for pregnancy amnesia if we were doing that again.
* Pregnancy amnesia is a lie and I hate everyone of you who gave me that line with a smile.
* She's still an only child. Go figure.
* They tell you you'll end up naked on the delievery table so don't bother with any fancy dellivery gowns and guess what?
* They are right.
* Also? By the time you get to this point, modesty is no longer a word in your vocabulary.
* When the baby is born and looks at you for the first time, you realize really have no idea what you're in for, but what's to come is the most fulfilling guessing game you'll ever play.
Eight years ago, today was the day before her birthday. Tomorrow, eight becomes her new favorite number (at least until she turns nine.)
Happy almost birthday to my little chingona. You're Guelo would be proud of you. Eight is going to be amazing.