A collection of thoughts and experiences from one who has been there and is still there. Ahhhh, motherhood!  When one contemplates entering this state of life, one’s general thoughts are full of tranquility.  Think of fuzzy commercials about those bath suds that are supposed to magically calm your energetic offspring to sleep (hopefully while not in the bath).   Consider,my fellow mom, the pre-child days. Allow yourself to remember your pre-child daydreams of softly lit evenings spent nursing your precious infant before you sing him a lullaby while tucking him in for the night in your perfectly decorated nursery.  Close your eyes and once again remember what you thought motherhood was going to be like. REALITY CHECK!    I think the first reality check occurs the instant you find yourself staring at those windows in that news-bearing plastic stick.  How in the world can they advertise those things as being easy to use?   I was only married four months when I found myself staring in the mirror, pondering if that strange look on my face was one of terror or absolute joy.  Of course it was joy!   I was joyful in my extreme ignorance. Even if I wasn’t ignorant, I still would have been joyful.   After all, what greater privilege can there be than to forsake all things chocolate and caffeinated for nine months? Plus, I had not yet experienced the oh-so-lovely experience of a small person jumping on my bladder or kneeing my cervix.  My happy gushing tears, while initially alarming my husband, assured us that the hormones were sloshing through my body grandly and we had nothing to worry about……yet. So,there I was.  I was not showing yet, since my trim young stomach was gallantly willing to hold things in,unaware of the losing battle at hand. I was already hitting the maternity clothes section at the mall with a vengeance and staring at myself sideways in the mirror.   I practiced the pregnant mom waddle because I had once heard that it is so cute.   I informed all people within earshot that WE are pregnant.  I said this because I was SO happy. I also said this because I was wearing balloon-like clothing and I certainly wouldn’t want people to think that I was weird or unfashionable. Our first doctor’s visit was one of joy and excitement and the hubby took time off from work to attend.  We enteredthe office and gazed in wonder at all the new baby snapshots on the walls, capturing that magic moment when baby is first born.   I was awash with hormone-induced joy.  Wait….good grief….does that woman know that her hair is unwashed and straggly? She should have taken a shower before she went to the hospital and then had her picture taken.  Well, at least she is smiling….why are her eyes so red and bloodshot?   These thoughts briefly pierced my brain before the joy hormone was again released.   Why judge all these women for a bad hair day? Our name was called and we jumped up with big smiles plastered on our faces.  We were ushered into a small sterile room and briskly informed that one of us was to completely disrobe.   Hubby smiled, confident that the chilly naked one would not be him, and gallantly held my purse.   My joy hormone seemed to be running low as I slowly slipped on the tiny white gownand tied the frayed straps.  There were small tears around the seams of the straps as if previous wearers had quickly ripped off this scrap of material in their effort to return to the security of a warm and covered rear.  For some strange reason, the padded table was only half the size of a regular person.  My legs dangled awkwardly and I grippedthe table to keep from sliding off. The midwife helpfully placed my bare feet in these cold metal things that are strangely called “stirrups”.  Yee-haw. At this point, I was thinking that I wanted off the baby roller coaster.   Just when I was thinking that things could not get worse, they did and since I suspect that mostly moms are reading this, I will spare you the all the cold and metal details.   My midwife seemed pleased that all was well in the baby growing fields and my husband excitedly asked me if I could see my cervix.  Since I am not double jointed in any part of my body, I could honestly say that I have never had the pleasure.   I don’t think my cervix minds one way or another.   To my relief, we were done with the “table gripping part” and now we were on to the “finding of the heartbeat” part. The midwife magically extended the table, to my relief.    I gripped my husband’s hand and smiled bravely until the chilly gel hit my stomach.  I gasped. The midwife apologized, but I sourly noticed a twinkle in her eye.  Then it was time to widen the slimy coldspot on my tummy by smearing the gel all around.  This was all so pleasant.   We heard a large slow whooshing sound which was suddenly is replaced with a higher,faster sound.  My first thought was that there was an intergalactic battle occurring in my abdomen.   So,this is what a baby’s heartbeat sounds like!   I daintily wiped away a tear before it ruined my mascara.  The wonder hit us andwe gazed at each other in joy. Please note the ability we had at that moment to gaze at each other in joy.   (Get your fill of gazing at your husband, new moms, because after happy baby event occurs, there is no time slot left for adorable gazing.) We waltzed home on cloud nine.   Hubby held every door for me and insisted that I not pick up anything heavier than a fork.  Since this was the only allowed form of exercise, I felt like I needed to do it as much as possible to stay in shape.   Unfortunately,this was skewed thinking and I was forced to take up walking/really-slow jogging to supplement.   I decided on some new hobbies, which included napping and shopping for those adorable new born clothes. To help prevent the fabled morning sickness, I decided to have crackers at hand at all times.  I nibbled crackers when I first awoke in the morning, on the way to work, midmorning as I typed, after lunch, before dinner, and after dinner.  I was a very literal person.   I am proud to say that I had absolutely no queasiness at all due to my cracker diligence.  In fact, by bedtime, I was so sick of crackers that I would lie in bed reading and sucking the salt off the crackers.    I then stacked the crackers in neat little convenient piles on the nightstand.  My husband complained so much about the cracker piles that I relented and after licking the crackers, put them back in the bag.   This apparently was also an unacceptable situation. When my husband desired to eat a cracker, he preferred the salt still on the cracker and the general crispinessof the cracker still tangible.   It was great while it lasted but all good things must come to an end. So, soon I am looking forward to feeling that first little movement of my precious baby.   One happy day, I felt it!   I called my husband and excitedly explained the feeling!  He was elated! The excitement deprived midwife patiently informed us that this wonderful feeling was probably gas since we were not far enough along to feel anything yet.   I was decidedly grumpy.   I decided to eat things that made me gassy and just pretend that it was the baby kicking.  After all, where did that midwife get her degree anyhow?  Who is the big high pregnancy expert that says you can’t feel movement at nine weeks?   HA.   I realize now that it was gas and I really had a very windy first trimester, until the day that I felt true baby bopping.   My husband was relieved when we arrived at real baby movement and we could shut the windows at night. The weeks skipped by and oh so slowly my tummy started to grow.  We found out that we were having a girl and my nose was continually in the baby name books.  I would lie in bed, sucking crackers and elbowing my sleeping spouse every time I found a good name. He would mumble affirmatively to any and all name suggestions, then claim ignorance the next morning when I assured him that we had discussed and settled on a certain name the night before!   After a bit of marital disharmony, we finally settled on Chloe Elizabeth.  It must be the most beautiful name in the whole wide happy world. Baby Chloe was joyfully moving around much of the night and sleeping during the daylight hours.  This was difficult since I was accustomed to a slightly different schedule.   Daddy talked to baby every night and I had sworn off eating anything resembling unhealthy food for fear of hurting the baby.   Life was cozy and happy and sweet and quiet. I glowed and tossed my shiny hair frequently.  I bought stylish maternity clothes and smiled at everyone.  The world was a witness that being pregnant equals being happy and I was a shining monument to that very fact. Well,we had ridden the lovely highs of the second trimester and we seemed to be descending into the dark valley of the third.   My step was not so bouncy.  In fact,my ankles seemed to have fully morphed into my legs.  Chloe’s kicking was no longer anticipated, but was borne with a grunt and a grimace.   It took three stalwart men to pull me off the couch.   I no longer needed to practice my pregnant waddle b/c it was the only walk I could perform.  Heels were definitely out of the question.  I stopped informing the general public that I was pregnant b/c they really didn’t have any doubts.    I don’t think that people were being kind by opening doors or stepping aside,allowing me to go first.  No, I think that they were dubious that I had any kind of maneuverability or braking action whatsoever and so were nimble for their very lives. We were now not counting months, but weeks, and then, suddenly, days.   I no longer could hug my husband with my kettle sized stomach.  We had adapted to hugging sideways.   I could no longer reach the sink to do the dishes, nor tie my shoes. I was alarmingly  too big for even my maternity clothes.  I never really realizeded that this was possible. We were 3 days away from the Due Date, and we were miserable, each of us for differing reasons.  I wanted baby out and I’m sure that hubby wanted to live with a sane woman again.. My ever-so-intelligent midwife suggested that we have (clinically put by her)intercourse to move things along. Well, that suspiciously sounded like sex and that was OUT of the question at this stage.  When theupper part of your torso rests on the lower part…….need I finish? Every ounce of energy and thought, every conversation seemed to center around the Date. And then…….. The“first contraction”……..what excitement! What joy!  It was 1:30 a.m. and I awakened my snoring spouse. He leapt out of bed with a panicked look on his face and grabbed his watch.  Now we needed to time the contractions!   We will do this diligently!  We will follow every step on the bullet pointed sheet that is laying on the nightstand!!! We waited with baited breath. Nothing.  Chris frowned and checked the bullet pointed sheet for, um, pointers. An hour later, my husband was snoring again and I was lying awake, willing labor to start.  I did not care if labor was going to be the most horrific time of my life, I just needed this small person to leave my bodily premises.   Immediately!   I will be a much more pleasant person to be around, I justknow it!  Please, baby! Then….out of nowhere, this thing called labor…….this event that we have read about, talked about, watched videos about, taken classes about, anticipated…LABOR starts. We grabbed the watch again and started timing.  Eight minutes apart, Seven and a half minutes apart, five minutes apart!  It was 4:30 in the morning and I was POSITIVE that the baby was about to crown.  We called the midwife, anticipating that she would wildly scream for us to call an ambulance and while we’re waiting,  boil water …..maybe for hot chocolate!   The midwife insisted that she talk to me.  Me.  The mother in labor.  I was SO proud at how calm and collected I was, and I coolyinformed her of all my inward symptoms. She rather crankily insisted that I did not “sound” like I was in labor,and to please go back to bed. The indignity!  I AM in labor….I just have a high pain tolerance!  How dare she tell me to go back to bed on this very-important-and-life-changing day!  WE are having a baby today!  Alert the maternityward that we are on our way! I went back to bed. It was 11:00 a.m.  I was exhausted.  Contractions had been steadily coming every five minutes for what seemed like weeks.  We called again. My midwife consented that we might “possibly” need to come in.  She was WAY too calm. We made the drive and I groaned dramatically at every bump in the road.  Chris speeds.  We waited very anti climactically in a room for the annoying desk lady to enter our info.   A woman is in labor here, people!  Let’s hurry it up! And would everyoneplease stop acting so CALM! We were shown to a room set up with two beds and three chairs.  I was hooked up to some impertinent machine that somehow tells the doctor how much pain I’m in.  A doctor who was about 12 years old came in and calmy checked my chart.  I gazed at him crankily and wondered if he was old enough to shave. My midwife perkily decided to check how many centimeters dilated I was.  I began mulling over the fact that maybe they should have a different measuring system for how big things need to get for baby to come out.  Something like feet. “Oh, she’s measuring 2 ½ feet!  Baby is ready to enter the world!” No such luck.  Cervixes are measured in centimeters for some strange reason, and mine was only FOUR!  They will not even admit you at 4 centimeters!   I groaned and wondered if I was caught in some kind of labor twilight zone.We drove home not saying much. I crashed on the couch imagining all kinds of awful things.  Baby is stuck….baby is stuck…..baby is stuck….the thought ran through my addled brain rhythmically. It was 3:30 p.m.  My contractions were SO strong that I could not even speak through them.  We called.  When speaking to the midwife, I gritted my teeth and groaned through contractions and told her in no uncertain terms that I WAS dying, it WILL BE all her fault,and a pregnant ghost WAS going to haunt her until the day she decides to kick the bucket.   She said that I sounded like I was ready. How magnanimous of her.  She was lucky that I was so busy having a baby or else I would have strangled her. In no time, my capable husband had me back at the hospital, I was admitted at eight centimeters and before I knew it, it was time to push.  My first pushing contraction comes and after it ebbed, I glanced at the clock.   “How long will I push? “ I asked….. My guess on this subject consisted of pushing two, maybe three times, definitely no more than ten minutes, tops. “Oh,2 hours is normal for a first.” I was calmly told. I glanced at my husband.  He looked alarmed. Over my dead body was I doing this for 2 hours!  Another contraction was coming, and I reached down and tossed the baby monitor off my stomach, smacked my husband’shand for rubbing those irritating repetitious circles on my arm and met it head on. I had that child in ½ hour.   She’s here!  I was foggy, exhausted,sore….and it was the happiest moment of my life.  Tears ran down my face and the new daddy was laughing and crying at the same time.  She was wrinkly,purple and red.  She had wispy dark hair and perfect nails, a rosebud mouth and a little cone head,  such tiny ears and huge dark eyes. She’s here.  Chloe Elizabeth.  Born on a sunny, crisp autumn day, October 17 at 6:02 p.m. And so commences this journey into motherhood, parenthood…..so ended my carefree days and so began my maturity in life. Nothing has stretched me more than motherhood.  This child has changed my life and I will never be the same.  I would die for this small person.   And in the tumultuous times of parenthood, strong and unbreakable bonds are formed.  For somewhere in that amazing cycle of life, there are timeless lessons that we learn.  There is a breaking process and a growing process.  We are forever bound up in the happiness and failures of that one little person. Our children not only hold our hearts, they are our hearts….a part of us…..a walking, breathing symbol of our love for each other. ……and yes, we mailed the midwife a picture. It is a picture of me, in a flimsy hospital gown.  My hair is matted, my eyes bloodshot, my smile oh-so-tired….BUT there is a brand new person peeking out of that white striped blanket.  Our journey has begun and who knows who she’ll be…..