I took some unexpected turns on my journey to motherhood. Hell, I even ended at my destination years sooner than I planned. I'd always wanted to become a mother- oodles of children with thick, dark hair. Growing up, I could never pinpoint exactly what career I wanted, where I wanted to live... but I knew I wanted children.
And then my dream came true- in a much different way than I had anticipated. I was 15, 9 months into my relationship with TJ. Something wasn't "right" so I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor. Every test I took, at home and in the doctor's office, was negative. Everybody was at a loss for what could be wrong so I had blood taken on a Friday afternoon. I was instructed to call back Monday morning for the results and should they be negative, I was to start a new birth control that day. Monday morning came. I'd convinced myself I wasn't pregnant and clutched the pack of pills, ready to take one the second I hung up the phone. "Congratulations, Erica. You're definitely pregnant," I heard. Well, then.
My first trimester was an absolute roller coaster. TJ and I briefly split because he needed to mentally prepare himself, as he initially wasn't supportive of my decision to have the baby. Then morning sickness hit, oh lord, did it hit. I lost 23 pounds in a month and became so severely dehydrated that I almost put myself into a coma and lost the pregnancy. I couldn't even walk on my own anymore. I eventually ended up in the hospital at 10 weeks, with the health and safety of my baby still up in the air. My doctor wondered if I was pregnant with twins, even. Thankfully everything turned out alright for both of us... and thankfully there was just one baby in there!
My second trimester was a breeze and my mother had me convinced I was bringing a sweet little girl into the world. She "just knew" and I trusted her. I wouldn't say I was hoping for a girl; I just had this vision of my daughter growing in my womb. We even named her Ellie, watched her flip around like crazy at an ultrasound at 13 weeks. I was in love. I went in for my 20 week ultrasound, so excited to have the gender officially established. My mother came with me, bubbling over with excitement, even telling the technician about her granddaughter.
"Here HE is," the tech said, pointing to something that was not a third arm. I thought my mother was going to hit the floor. I thought I was going to hit the roof. A son. A SON! I went straight out and bought a card that spelled "BOY", slipped it in a pink envelope and handed it to TJ (it was his birthday; he assumed it was a birthday card. But no, I gave him the best birthday present a man could ask for instead!) When it finally hit him, he started blurting out sports talk. They would play hockey. He would teach him about baseball. It was beautiful.
My third trimester was incredibly unpleasant. I had severe swelling- I'd actually gained 75 pounds, which all but 10 was water retention! I couldn't breathe at night. I couldn't eat anything. I was miserable. At 6am on March 10, I started having regular contractions. I was scheduled for induction at 9am the next morning because he guessed the baby was getting too large. My doctor wanted me to come in that night instead to be on the safe side, in case I went into active labor on my own. And I did. Around 3am on March 11, I started having very strong contractions. My doctor, for some idiotic reason, decided to start pitocin, despite the fact that I was doing well on my own. The pain became absolutely unbearable and I was given 2 shots of Demerol, 3 paracervicals, and an intrathecal (an epidural of sorts). I was so drugged up that I repeatedly stopped breathing. I also couldn't stay awake through my labor and most of my delivery. It was a traumatic experience and mostly a blur that resulted in me having a severe reaction and put me back in the hospital two days after I left it. I was also unable to breastfeed. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
At 9:18am on March 11, 2006, my due date, Adrian Lewis came into the world screaming his little heart out. The first words out of my mouth were, "He's BLOND!" My little (big) man weighed in at 8 pounds and 2.4 ounces. He had huge, crystal blue eyes and looked just like his daddy. He was absolutely perfect.
Today, Adrian is an incredibly smart, crazy, rock and roll loving 6 year old. He says and does the craziest things and he is so sweet and loving. My journey to motherhood must have had all the right detours because I ended up with this little guy and that is just a blessing.
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