A year ago today, at this exact time, I was in the middle of the most excruciating pain of my life. I was at the part of labour that seems to last forever. Wanting to push but having to pant. I swear the pressure and pain of that is enough to make you wish your husband was sterile. (not meaning to scare any first timers out there). I remember the nurse telling me (and this was after I had already been in intense labour for 26 1/2 hours) that as soon as I felt like I was going to die...it would be over. At that point I thought "I already feel like I'm going to die. How can it possibly get worse?" And then it did...and just as the nurse predicted...just when I felt about to pass out...out she popped. 28 hours (after nine monhs) of pain exchanged for pure joy. I told my husband anyone who did this twice must be insane. The nurse laughed. She figured I'd still be back.
And once again she may be right. No I am not pregnant again and neither am I planning on popping another one out anytime soon. But sitting here on the eve of my daughters first birthday, party prep finished, enjoying a few moments of peace before bed time...I have a new perspective on the whole pregnancy/labour drama. Those hourse, days, months of pregnancy and labour are by far the most miserable and painful moments in my life. But look at what I have to show for it only a year later. A bubbly, beautiful, baby girl who holds up her finger when you ask how old she'll be and giggles and claps when you tell her happy birthday. I have cuddles and kisses and an excuse to plan a really cute party. They say that love makes people do crazy things....so perhaps those who tackle the daunting delivery room more than once are not insane...they're simply in love.