I can’t believe that it has taken me so long to write about the day I became a mother.

February 10, 2013- The day my son was born, the day I became a mother. I guess the best place to begin is the beginning…

I discovered I was pregnant on June 4, 2012. We had tried for over a year to get pregnant. We were, in a way, successful.  I had two miscarriages in 2011.  I was devastated and had given up on the idea of being a mother.

On the way home from work, June 3, I stopped at the Walgreens in downtown Chicago and bought 4 pregnancy tests.  I was not even late for my monthly cycle. I just was compelled to buy a test, or 4.  I didn’t even bother pulling them out of my purse when I got home.  I went about my evening, made dinner, had a date with my husband, and everything was “normal”.

June 4, I woke up INSANELY early and snuck out of the bedroom to my purse. I stood staring at my purse, trying to use x-ray vision to see if I had actually bought pregnancy tests. I had. And, I had to pee! Off I went. I used a test. I fixed coffee while I waited. A plus sign. Good thing coffee makes me have to pee. Another test, another positive. Again, and again. All positive.

My husband FINALLY woke up and began to get ready for his day. I sheepishly walked out of our guest room with my hands behind my back, clutching a “daddy” shirt I had bought in July of 2011 and had been hiding. I asked him if he would like bad news or good news first. He chose bad news. I said, “I am sorry, we won’t be going to Europe in the spring”. Without giving him much time to think, I blurted I have a present and thrust the shirt at him. I think I said I am pregnant, but I know he hugged me. Tight.

Fast-forward to February 9: I was 2 days past my due date and I had been having contractions for a couple of days. As I said goodbye to my husband, I told him to keep his phone on at work.  As he pulled out of the garage, I felt something. My son was angry. He was kicking and stretching and rolling. I knew it was a matter of time, I was going to be a mother. REALLY, a mother.

It was a weird day. I slept, a lot, but couldn’t eat. It was 3 am when my water broke and things got really real. My dear husband had JUST returned from a twelve hour shift. I was instructed to come into the hospital to be monitored. We checked in around 5 am and I was hooked up to an IV and began familiarizing myself with my son’s contractions.

I slept off and on in the hospital, being poked and prodded occasionally, but it wasn’t as bad as I had always expected. I was able to walk around the ward, chat with my husband and mother, check Facebook, call friends and family, etc.

Twelve hours after my water broke, I was dilated enough to begin to feel the need to push, but my wonderful OB/GYN said it wasn’t time and I would know when it was really time.

My lovely nurse was in and out of my room as another mother had been in active labor and pushing for the last 3 hours. They were sure she was going to “beat me” and that, being it was my first, I would take quite a lot longer to give birth. At 4 o’clock, the doctor and my nurses told me that they thought I could get myself ready to push and that, with luck, I would deliver by 6 pm.  I said to everyone that would listen that I would be done before 4:30 and that I had done quite enough waiting to meet my son and I was ready to push.

My body was screaming to push. I could feel contractions in my body. I felt them building in my back and I felt the wave to the front of my body and the constriction of my abdomen. I told my doctor that I knew when I needed to push. It was 4:09. She agreed to let me have a go at it.  I pushed the first time and she said there was his head. He was perfect. I couldn’t see him. It spurred me on. Second push. Third push and he was announced, “It’s a perfect boy”! It was 4:26pm. I was a mother. I was more involve than I ever thought possible. My monkey was here. He was everything and more. He still is.