Baby boy’s birthday is tomorrow. Naturally, as a birth story obsessed mama on the eve of her kid’s birthday does, I find myself thinking about my birth story. It feels startlingly fresh in my mind. Despite him being a December baby, I rarely think of the holidays when I think of his birth. Except for the nutcrackers. Oh the nutcrackers. The entry to the hospital was decked out in Christmas decorations. I’m talking nutcrackers that were probably 15 feet tall, Christmas trees with white string lights, (huge) wreaths with red bows.
I clearly remember the magical, glowy decorations from my horizontal position on a bench in the lobby area. My eyes were open then closed on repeat, and I was moaning and tapping through contractions. I was waiting for the valet guy to get our car. (We decided to go back home so I could labor there, since my midwife said I was dilated just 1.5cm - how in the world?!... but anyway…) It was nearly midnight and we waited at least 30 minutes for our car! Pretty sure I dilated like four more centimeters waiting. I’m not even kidding.
But at least the waiting was quiet (except for me) and even a little bit peaceful. I love that I have a snapshot image frozen in my mind of giant nutcrackers watching over as I labored. Comfort, joy, peace and love for my beautiful December baby boy.