As I gathered up all the strength I had (and some strength I didn’t know I had) to push my baby out and into the world, all eyes were on me. Every person in the room offered some kind of support and encouragement. After one hundred minutes, I finally gave one last push.
And just like that, my firstborn child shot out into the world.
And just like that, it wasn’t about me anymore.
Three pediatricians and one midwife got busy suctioning out my baby. The other midwife tended to the status of my placenta. My mother had just become a grandmother and my husband had just become a father and they moved from my bedside to the warmer.
It was, in a way, a perfect segue into motherhood — the world no longer revolved around me, it revolved around my baby. But also, I was still there, freaking out on the hospital bed where my body had just erupted and my life had just transformed forever.