The best place to start would be 24 hours before her birth. It’s 0744 and the lack of sleep had reduced my movements to shuffling or rocking in the fetal position. I thought I had prepared myself adequately by always having my nose in a book about mindful birthing; unfortunately, I couldn’t imagine the earthy smell of raisin or the withered texture of it’s hard skin. All I could feel was the chisel being hammered into my lower vertebrae anytime a contraction flowed through my abdomen. My mantra to get me through was, “a contraction every three to five minutes for two hours straight.” My body had strange sense …show more content…
Blinding lights pointed directly at my pale body while the doctors and nurses were doing their pre-surgical ritual. I notice the goosebumps on my chest from how cold the nurse’s stethoscope felt. He probably heard the jackhammer-like pounding of my heart and the shallow rapid breaths of my anxiety. Our birth plan was completely derailing. I am supposed to be awake when she finally makes her first breathy coo; however, her heartbeat mimicked a fragile flutter. I wish I could have felt the epidural pull out, or else my husband and I could jubilantly greet our bundle of joy. Instead, I was alone trying to focus on the sounds of voices, the buzz of razors, and squeaks of tennis shoes on the floor. I took the two shaky breaths, as instructed, and I felt the medicine pushing it’s way in until I tackled the black wall of