Dear Baby Girl,

Any day I’ll get to meet you. I’m nervous, I’m scared, and I’m excited. But more than anything, I’m ready. Your father on the other hand is a nervous wreck. He has packed and repacked multiple times as well as checking out the fastest routes to the hospital for what time of day you decide to arrive. He’s so excited to be a dad and wants everything to go perfectly. Hopefully the next time I write, I’ll have you in my arms and I’ll get to gush over every little thing I love about you.

Till then,

Mom

Mackenzie

“Connor,” I call in the middle of the night.

He startles next to me. “What? Are you okay?”

“It hurts,” I burst out, clenching my lower half and doubling over in pain.

“Breathe, baby. Did it just start?”

I take a deep, calming breath as the pain subsides. “No, it’s been going on for a while now, but that one was way more intense than the others.”

He jumps out of bed and runs around to my side, lifting me out of bed. My clothes are on the chair beside; he removes my nightshirt and slips on the skirt and shirt I have waiting.

When his lips touch my forehead, calmness washes over me, giving me strength to hold on tight to his shoulders as another contraction rips me apart.

“You have to breathe for me, Kenzie. Remember the classes we took. Let me get my watch so I can time them. Don't’ forget, it gets worse for twenty seconds then it fades away,” he reminds me.

I try to breathe in but the pain is so intense, I feel like I’m being ripped apart.

“I’m scared, Connor. This really hurts.” I hold on to him tightly.

“But we’re going to have our baby girl. Envision holding her in your arms. She’ll be worth it. And Kenzie, look, it’s after midnight. She’s going to be born on your birthday! Happy birthday, baby.” He kisses me and places his hands on my belly. “Literally,” he laughs and beams with excitement.

I grimace a smile, surprised. She’s not due for a week and a half, so even though I hoped she’d come a few days early, I didn’t think it would actually happen.

He leads me down to the car. Since it’s four o’clock in the morning, the streets are empty, and we’re able to make it to the hospital quicker than I had thought we would.

As another contraction hits, I close my eyes, working through it, and imagine what she’s going to look like. I hope she has my hair and nose but Connor’s eyes.

Once I’m able to walk, he helps me into the hospital, where they put me in a wheelchair and push me to a room. Every contraction is stronger and closer together, but when they ask if I want pain meds, I say no. I don’t want to miss a moment of her birth. My body was made to do this, and it’s something I want to experience.

My goal was to have a water birth, so they have us set up with a tub in our room. In the research I’d done, having the mom sit in a tub allows her body to relax more and work on delivering the baby.

My doctors fear how the birth will go, having no clue how the act of pushing would affect my brain, so no matter how much I want to, I have to keep all tension low and let my body get the baby out instead of fighting against it and clenching in fear.

A few very painful hours have passed, and Connor holds my hand when the midwife checks my status. “You’re at eight centimeters. I think it’s time to get in the tub,” she announces. I’ve never felt so relieved.

“Did you hear that, baby?” Connor says happily.

The poor guy has had to endure every scream, every cry, and my crushing death grip, but he hasn’t given up, and I love him that much more.

They assist me into the tub and instantly I’m content and relaxed in a way I didn’t think possible. My muscles finally relax as my head falls against the edge in complete exhaustion.

To my surprise I fall asleep, completely relaxed for those few minutes only to be woken up with the most intense pain ripping through me once again.

After it subsides, I turn to my midwife. “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

Connor wraps his arms around my shoulders. “You got this, baby. We’re so close.”

“But what if I can’t? How do I even know when it’s time?”

The midwife actually laughs. “Oh, you’ll know.”

I want to punch her in the face.

How dare she think this entire situation is any laughing matter? I’m scared to death. Feeling like I’m going to explode at any minute if I have to endure this pain too much longer.

My head rests on Connor’s shoulder and I focus on my breath, talking myself into not giving up, not begging for an epidural, and trying to envision what my daughter will look like.

I close my eyes for a brief moment and a sudden intense pressure builds down low, causing a completely different pain than what I’ve felt before. My hands fly to the edge of the tub, desperately grasping for anything that will keep me grounded.

“I think I know,” I yell.

“It’s okay, calm down, breathe,” the midwife says, wiping a washcloth across my forehead.

“No,” I scream. “I know when it’s time, and it’s now. Look.”

A tiny head is making its presence known.

“Holy cow!” she yells out. “Don’t push.”

“I’m not! She’s coming though.” I grip the edge of the tub hard until the feeling subsides, and I can take a deep breath.

“Holy shit!” Connor yells, making me laugh.

“Mackenzie,” the midwife says. “Give me your hand. Here, feel your baby.”

I move my hand under the water and touch the crown of my daughter’s head.

My eyes go wide in shock as Connor laughs at my reaction.

“Wait for the next contraction. Let your body do the work and relax in these moments of rest. She’ll be here soon.”

“Can I feel?” Connor asks.

“Of course,” the midwife responds.

He reaches down into the water, lightly brushing the head of his baby girl. When he looks my direction, his lips crash into mine, kissing me until I have to break away with the same urge rushing through me again.

“Good job, Dad. The surge of hormones normally does the trick,” she teases as I grip the edge again, welcoming Mia Mackenzie Hayden into the world.

I feel the final pop of release and my head falls back, a feeling of total exhaustion and utter relief sweeping through me.

I did it.

The midwife works quickly and within seconds, I feel the warmth of a tiny body on my chest and the soft cries of a baby filling the room.

“Kenzie,” Connor wraps his arms around both his girls. “You did it. Look at her, baby.”

“Congratulations, Mom and Dad. She was born at 7:14 a.m.”

I lift my head, glancing at the beautiful angel that just came out of me. The pain is still very real, but my heart is filling with love. Connor kisses Mia’s forehead.

“Did you say 7:14?” Connor asks.

“That’s correct,” the midwife responds over her shoulder.

“Baby, did you hear that? She was born on your birthday and at 7:14.”

I look up when what he’s saying sinks in. “Your birthday,” I whisper through pain, tears and elation. Connor’s birthday is July fourteenth.

I drop my head back against the tub, saying a quick prayer and thanking God for my life and my miracle. Her birth proves even more that this was the purpose and meaning of my life, wrapped in a little bundle of joy.

Connor’s lips softly brush mine before he places a hand on our daughter’s back. Together, we share an embrace for the first time as a family.