Chronicles of Motherhood- Part 1

Part 1
A Planned Pregnancy... an Unplanned Birth.

I often look at him and wonder why I waited so long to become a mother. If I had him straight out of college, he would be 11-years-old right now. I'd be over the teething fussiness, the food messes and way past potty training. Instead, he's 11-months-old and all of those are my normal. On the upside, I don't have a pre-teen to deal with. The truth is, I was 16 the first time I said the words out loud "I don't want children", and all through High School (where one of our peers went to graduation with a baby bump), and all through my 20s, I studied, worked, dated and never considered having children. I was always too busy, too involved, too independent. While most of the girls in my Senior class got married and started families and had one, two and three children, I lived my life and did what I wanted freely. I was published, I had a great job ... I was thriving.

One day I was slapped in the face with bad news. I was 30, with no known history of reproductive issues (see my post about Endometriosis here), and at the end of a very strange and desolating relationship. Long story short, I had surgery and was told: "If you want kids, you need to try NOW or you may never have any. Your condition is severe and could come back at any time." I thought to myself, in prayer "It hasn't happened because it wasn't the right time. Maybe now it is." But, have a baby with who? I wasn't about to fool myself into thinking a baby would bring my relationship back to life. I knew right then that I would rather do it alone if I was meant to do it at all. I armed myself with prayer, packed my bags and found myself paying low rent with all of my possessions cramped together in a friend's guest room for a month, before I found a place of my own with my mother's aid. To make the story even shorter, I fell in love with an amazing man. We saved each other from great loss and suffering. I saw him, knew him, heard the clock ticking and knew he was my answered prayer. Still, it wasn't until 3 years later, when I turned 33, that I said to myself and him, "now it's the time.  Before I am high risk before I'm considered "too old" to have a baby before it's too late, we have to pray and see if this blessing is meant for us."

Fast forward 4 months and there it was, that positive test in my hand on August 24, 2018. If you're wondering, I do have the pee-test on my vanity.

So gross to keep that, I know, but, name one modern mom who doesn't have hers. I was 33, he was 39 and there it was our tiny, little baby seed. THANK YOU!!! At that time, prayers turned from getting pregnant and bringing a child this side of the veil, if it was meant for me, to holding on to him and making sure I did everything within my power to make my pregnancy last to full-term.

My family wanted me to fly. The answer was no.

I wanted to eat sushi and I was used to eating it often, but I didn't.

I was sick, miserable and in pain for 30 out of 40 weeks.
I struggled with mild prepartum depression symptoms.

I survived.

It never stopped me. My first pregnancy had stuck and my answered prayer was quite literally a reality growing within me.

Baby Announcement: "Trick or treat? The Moores are growing by two little feet." October, 2018

Call me OCD, but I did plan my pregnancy. I knew that if I wanted an April baby, like me, I had to get pregnant by the end of August. Hard work and dedication paid off, and my due date was April 29. Upon week 32 of my pregnancy I started to do everything I read I could do to prepare my body for labor. I walked 2-3 miles daily, I squatted, I drank raspberry tea with coconut water to encourage breast milk production, I avoided everything I needed to avoid, I ate pineapple and whatever else I could stomach that I read would work... all in the hopes of going into labor no later than April 29. On April 24 during my weekly checkup, my OBGYN informed me that I was 2 cm dilated and that she would "work her magic" to see if this baby would arrive on time; so she ripped my membranes. Did it hurt? A bit. Did it work? I guess so! Twenty-four hours later I was admitted to triage with steady contractions and a bloody show. April 26 was my birthday and I spent it all in the delivery room monitoring my contractions, my feelings, sensations, hopes and dreams for my baby, and especially the fact that my mom and Michael were so apparently in shock that I never got cake, balloons or a birthday song, despite my endless requests. Fast forward 28 hours, a fever, antibiotics, meconium and an emergency C-section; and there he was.

What's in a name? After the gender reveal we decided we would keep his name a secret. There had to be some mystery, after all; but we knew his name very early on. One of the first things we discussed when we started dating was whether or not Michael wanted to have more children. By then, not wanting children was a deal-breaker for me. So, discussing baby names came about pretty early in our relationship. I always asked how come none of his three boys had his name, and we both constantly agreed that we wanted a name from the scriptures. It was never an argument, it was always a pleasing discussion to come up with names and discuss.  That was one of the signs to us, that this was meant to be, that our baby had always been ours, that he was real. Then, one day it was decided, long before he was there; if we had a boy his name would be Elijah Michael. How everything flowed from one thing to the next; from tragedy to epic love, from prayer to having him in the flesh, is a great testimony of how prayers are answered, in Heavenly Father's own, perfect time. 

He was born on April 27, 2019, at 3 a.m. weighing 9 lbs 1 oz and measuring 21" long. He was perfect. And just like that, I'm 34 and a first-time-mom.