I have learned a very important first lesson in parenting…  We have very little control.

I became a mama about 2 months into my pregnancy.  I was in denial the first month and had no real connection to the little sprout in my womb, but something happened after I heard Ramona’s heartbeat.  She became real and I started to believe that this pregnancy, although somewhat of a shock, was probably meant to be.  The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, and honestly if Jesse and I were to ever have children it probably needed to happen sooner rather than later.  Unfortunately, we women do have a shelf life when it comes to fertility.  I hate that.

I immediately started reading voraciously about what would now be the new direction of my life and quickly became a little obsessed with natural childbirth.  It has always seemed so beautiful to me–so natural and perfect and empowering.  I’ve photographed it, heard about it, and was now reading hundreds of positive birth stories from Ina May’s “Guide to Childbirth”.    After weighing all the pros, cons, benefits and risks of a natural childbirth vs. a medically monitored birth in a hospital, Jesse and I decided to use the Mountain Midwifery.  We would stay out of the hospital completely, go drug free and I would be empowered and experience that amazing rite of passage for women.   I was excited–and maybe even a bit self-righteous about our choice.

I woke up Monday morning, January 23rd at 7:30 and rolled over in bed to tell Jesse, “Today was the day”.  I was having contractions–real contractions.  I called my mom, who would be my doula and Caitlin, who would photograph the birth and gave them a heads up that it was “on”.

I loved early labor.  It hurt a little, but I felt euphoric.  We took walks into the early hours of Tuesday morning, watched a little Louis C.K. and waited for my contractions to get to 3 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute long.  I should have slept for a few of those hours and would have, had I know I had another 24 hours of grueling labor ahead of me.  By Tuesday afternoon, my contractions came on strong.  They were  4 minutes apart and very painful.  I was in active labor–and guess what, it was rush hour, and to get to the mountain midwifery we had to drive I-25 to Santa Fe–pretty much the worst two roads at rush hour.  This is when all of our “birth plans” went terribly awry.

I won’t get into the hairy details, but I basically labored at the Mountain midwifery for 10 hours—in the water, out of the water, on all 4’s, in a birth sling, on a birth ball, sitting over the toilet backwards, and every other imaginable position.  But my body never went into full labor.  My contractions were so horrifically painful, and I was so tired that I actually lost time.  I asked my mom later if I passed out because I don’t remember a thing about the last 4 hours of the delivery.  My body went into a state of shock and I left it.  Our midwife decided that we need to go to the hospital to deliver this baby, and at that point I was relieved.  I actually thought I might die.  The hospital was everything I didn’t want.  Every single thing that I hoped to bypass medically, was used.  Pitocin, epidural, internal fetal monitor, and then ultimately a C-section (which I will now call a cesarean birth).  My little Ramona was showing signs of distress, so thank God the Dr.s called for a cesarean birth.  She came out surgically with the cord wrapped around her neck three times and laboring to breath.  I knew she was a little acrobat in my tummy!

Ramona came into this world Wednesday morning, January 25th at 7:30am (48 hours after my contractions started) weighing 6.10 and measuring 19 inches long.  She’s a peanut.

Today, I am grateful for my journey to get her into the world.  I am grateful for the choices I made, the things I learned, the people I met, the Mountain midwifery, and I’m even thankful for surgery.  I’m thankful for the epidural. Very thankful!  I’m thankful for my precious baby girl, my darling husband and my amazing mother who both coached me and cheered me through the entire 36 hours of intense natural labor, and then held my hand through surgery.    But I did learn that when push comes to shove (literally), we really don’t have control.  My Ramona was trying to tell me that she wouldn’t come out that way–that if she had, it could have strangled her.  I learned that as much as I prayed that my milk would come in, the trauma to my body and the need to heal from surgery would make this difficult…  and these are all just the beginnings of the great journey of parenthood.  I need to let go, buckle up and enjoy the wild ride.  Welcome to Motherhood, Julie…  the adventure of my lifetime thus far.  And the most beautiful one at that.  For I am truly in love with my Ramona Moon….

My heartfelt thanks to my dear friends who provided some of the following photos… Caitlin Rose and Paige Elizabeth.