Today is a day where everyone is spending the day with their mothers or their family. It is a day of sharing of expressing that love for a parent, or husbands acknowledging the devotion of their wives to their children, of being that mother figure all children need in their lives. There isn’t anything like a mother’s love. It is far different from any other love one can imagine.
My daughter was born in 2003. I never dreamed I would have a child. In fact most of my life I said I would not have one because I could not see wanting to bring children into a world as I saw the world to be.
When I became pregnant, I was 42 years old. I was preparing to move away from all my family to join a man I thought would be the love of my life and be with forever. The week of our packing up my things, I felt the first signs of the possibility of being pregnant. Just slight nausea in the morning but my female reproduction system is like clockwork, I could count almost to the day when my bleeding would start and it was already two weeks late. I spoke to this man I had accepted into my life and then we sat together while we waited for the home pregnancy test to confirm or deny my suspicions.
I did not know what I felt about this possibility. I knew I would accept whatever the verdict was but I also knew I preferred if it wasn’t to be. When the result came out positive, we both sort of sat at the end of my waterbed. Me in obvious shock. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. I only knew I would not abort, nor would I give my child away.
When I was a teenager I chose to abstain from sex until I was able to accept and financially take care of any consequences of having sex outside of marriage. I was rather logical about everything, even choosing a man for the first time who I knew I would not become emotionally attached to. I went on birth control for two reasons, one because my periods were painful, exceedingly so that I could not function. I would have both nausea and diarrhea and sometimes I would just pray to throw up so it would exhaust me enough to go to sleep so when I would wake up the pain would be better, more manageable.
I spent most of my adult life on birth control with very few breaks of going off of them and only when I was between boyfriends. I was on birth control when I moved in with this man, my pretender as I have called him in my earlier posts. A man who pretended to be dominant who had no idea of what that word really meant other than to use it to get what he wanted regardless of how it made others feel.
We sat on the end of my bed and I told him I would not abort, and I would not give up the child. He accepted this and we continued our packing. Once we moved back east. I scheduled an appointment with a doctor to have my pregnancy confirmed, which it was. Then came the doctor’s visit with the OB/GYN doctor.
That first visit was interesting. The doctor pulled out the instrument so we could hear the baby’s heartbeat, while we were listening to the beat of my unborn child’s heart the lights went out in our room. It turns out they only lost the power to the room we were in. They moved us to another room and did an ultrasound, because the estimate of when I thought I became pregnant didn’t match up with what the examination was indicating. They did measurements from the ultrasound and discovered I was much further along than we had thought. Counting backwards from their estimate, the date of insemination landed smack dab on my birthday. I was a month further along than we thought. I was told it wasn’t unusual to have a period after becoming pregnant.
To top it off, I was on birth control at the time as well. We had also been on a trip to the city back east where we were going to move to, so not only was my daughter born in that city but she was conceived there as well.
My doctor wanted to put me through all kinds of tests due to my age. I refused. I told him to begin with the blood work and only if it indicated problems would we consider any further testing. The blood work came back without any red flags. Not only that, but, the numbers from the blood work had me rated in a category of other women in their upper twenties.
I returned for the normal checkups, everything fine, other than my doctor had some slight concern over my weight. I was not adding weight as he thought I should, but I was just barely within the chart’s expected weight gain so we would just keep an eye on it.
I stayed within that border just barely my whole pregnancy. We never had to do any testing, although towards the end of my pregnancy he had me sit with a monitor to check for any stress on the baby. He told me if all goes well I would be out in 20 minutes each time but that some women might end up being monitored for an hour if the baby showed any signs of stress. I can’t remember how often we did the monitoring, maybe three or four times and each time I was out within the 20 minutes with no sign of stress on the baby.
I actually enjoyed being pregnant. I only threw up once. Other times I had some light-headedness and those were either due to being around crowds or needing to eat. One time I got so cold I put on sweats and wrapped up in two blankets and was still cold until I ate some protein. After that we made sure I had protein at least once a day if not more often.
I never felt huge or like a waddling duck. I felt good and strong. Later in my pregnancy my hips began to hurt when I tried to lie on my side. I could no longer lie on my stomach which was my favorite position to sleep in, then when lying on my side became difficult I tried lying on my back but I’ve never been comfortable in that position. I resorted to folding pillows and putting them between my knees to try and relieve the ache in my hips. It helped some but not always.
I woke on a Sunday morning around 7:30am or 8am knowing I had started labor. I can’t explain how I knew but I did. It was only just minor discomfort in my lower abdomen. Over the day it grew stronger and then about 9pm I went to the bathroom and passed what looked like a huge clot and we decided to go to the hospital. At first they were going to send us back home because I wasn’t far enough in my labor. I’m not sure what made them decide to keep me. My water hadn’t broken and I wasn’t dilated but they checked me in.
Later that night or the next day, the doctor checked on me and at first couldn’t figure out why the baby wasn’t coming out. He finally figured out I still hadn’t dilated but my tissues were so thin he thought he was directly touching my baby’s head.
Monday afternoon came around and the nurse who had checked me in saw me and was surprised I was still there. I had been in hard labor for hours with no relief. That evening I had enough and the pretender told the nurse to get the doctor to find out what could be done. The doctor arrived a bit later, he knew we wanted to do this as naturally as possible but he also saw I was getting tired. He explained that the scar tissue on my cervix was preventing my cervix from dilating. We asked him if he couldn’t just snip a bit to weaken the scar tissue and he said no that was too barbaric. So he recommended an epidural explaining it would give me time to rest and hopefully time for the scar tissue to break up and the drugs would not get to the baby, so we agreed. It was the strangest feeling to be numb from the waist down. I could feel the heaviness of my legs. I could not imagine living like that all the time.
The nurse came in later to check to see if I was dilating and I wasn’t so she told me she was going to poke her finger through the opening of my cervix to see if she could help it along, since I was numb I shouldn’t feel much, but when she did it I became light headed and felt nausea but it passed pretty quickly. This had done the trick and the next examinations showed that I was now dilating. At this point I had been in the hospital for 24 hours. I tried resting but with the constant checkups from the nurses and I could still feel the contractions though they were mild I didn’t rest a whole lot. By early morning I was completely dilated and the doctor showed up and took me off the epidural.
I had a nurse on one side of me and the pretender on the other side of me, both holding my legs in a position that would help me get leverage for pushing. The nurse held my one leg firm but the pretender kept letting my leg move and I couldn’t get a firm push. I think I rather growled at him to hold my leg harder for which he did. Pushing was hard. If you have ever been constipated, just think about having to push something ten times bigger and harder out and you’ll have an idea of what it would be like.
Luckily I had read up on what happens and was prepared to hear and feel everything else that also was pushed out before the baby’s head ever appeared. I am sure I groaned hard and loud though I don’t remember but if I think hard enough I can hear it in my head.
I remember the doctor telling me once the baby’s head was out to not push again until he told me to. I can remember thinking that’s impossible I needed to push again so bad but I held back by the grit of my teeth. Then it was time for the final push and she came out in all her glory.
When they all yelled it was a girl, the pretender was silent. You see, during my whole pregnancy he told me he had always known what sex his other children were before they were born. He swore what I was having was a boy, so we had boys names picked out. During the ultrasounds my doctor tried to find out for certain what sex the baby was but the baby kept itself quite hidden, even during an extra ultrasound the doctor did at no cost just to see if he could catch the baby exposed to which the baby had hands covering. I however didn’t tell anyone that I had a dream that the baby was a girl so I was not surprised when everyone yelled “it’s a girl”. She not only had kept her sex hidden but she came out face up. I swear it was so she could see her father’s face when he found out she was a girl and not a boy.
Most everything was a blur after that. I could feel the doctor sewing me up, I had torn a bit, and also cleaning me and the bed up, but I was focused on the baby when they brought her to me. Neither one of us needed a lesson on breast feeding, she latched on firmly. Other than them showing me how to get her to unlatch without tearing off my nipple in the process, it came to us naturally or instinctively.
She was born around 6:30am, which meant I had been in labor for 48 hours, hard labor probably 36 or more hours.
My first night though was difficult. She wanted fed about every two hours and would cry every time I put her down. That night I spent in a kind of haze of exhaustion. The pretender had gone home to get some rest. I pretty much held her all night long dozing in and out as she fed. I understood though. She had been thrust into an unfamiliar environment and all she knew was me and my body and so I did what I could to comfort her and let her know I would not leave her to be alone.
There are two things I came to understand about my daughter. She couldn’t stand being closed up in a crib. After a few tries I stopped and we got rid of the crib. She slept in the middle of the futon or with me. The other thing is her time in hard labor of trying to come down the birth canal had left her traumatized. She couldn’t stand anything tight being pulled down over her head. Turtleneck shirts were out. She couldn’t wear them for at least the first five years of her life. If I tried to pull anything tight down over her head she would panic, so I didn’t force it. I found other solutions or I stretched the neck of shirts so they would be loose going over her head. I’ve had people look at me funny when I tell them the reason why they can’t put anything tight over her head, but I didn’t care if they believed me. All I cared about was whether they listened to me and didn’t attempt to dress her in turtlenecks or other such clothing.
I don’t regret ever having her. She is wonderful. She just isn’t what I had expected in life. I had expected to find a man who would love me and I would love him and life would be wonderful even if it had challenges and we had to work at our relationship, and maybe have children after that. I just hadn’t expected life to take me down the road I’m on. I had tried to force myself to fit into a mold that church, society and parents try to make me believe is the mold that is right for me. Everyone I knew was trying to fit me into that mold while inside I knew I wouldn’t fit.
Today is a day of contemplation, of seeing what this all means for me. How being submissive can bring this all together for me.
I’ve been feeling way off kilter all day today. Sometimes feeling tears well up inside of me. Partially for the loss of what could have been a wonderful relationship with my mother if she had just accepted me for who I am. The other part is a jumble of all sort of emotions and being afraid I won’t be able to finally have the complete family I have always wanted and dreamed about. As much as I love my daughter and we are good together I feel something missing, someone missing.
My Sir doesn’t live close. I don’t know where this will take me or him. The unknown is sometimes hard to look at, to move forward, allowing myself to become emotionally bonded to someone for I hold no illusion that a bond will not form. I knew when I started down this path when I accepted his offer to train me that I could not do so without becoming emotionally involved. He said he has no illusion about being able to keep me. That one day I will find a Dom close to me, a good dominant. I told him I don’t know how I feel about that. I still don’t. I can see pain down the road for me, maybe even for him and I don’t want that.
So today, has me thinking about mothers, my daughter, family, my Sir and my journey and it is all a mass of confused emotions, that in one minute makes me feel like crying and in the next makes me happy and scared all at the same time.
And yes, Sir, I am breathing.