I went into labor a year ago today, which feels like an appropriate time to finally share Lucy's birth story. It was a bumpy entry into parenthood, but it reminds me I am stronger than I think, Ian is my rock, Lucy is incredible, and God is in control.
My pregnancy started out textbook. The biggest hiccup was needing a second take on our 18-week ultrasound (which resulted in our first parenting lessons: dealing with fear and accepting our lack of control; we also remembered why it's never a good idea to Google anything medical—our doctor suggested sticking with the Mayo Clinic).
Things continued along swimmingly until April 7, when I went in for a growth check ultrasound. I was measuring a little small at my previous appointment and the doctor wanted to confirm the baby was still on track. The baby's size was fine, but the ultrasound revealed an umbilical cord cyst. The ultrasound doctor assured me it wasn't a problem, but we should monitor it to make sure it didn't become one. I drove to my prenatal appointment with the news, but my doctor immediately sent me to the Brigham for high blood pressure. This was the first appointment where I was flying solo and, already stressed, I had to drive down Route 9 to Fenway. I called Ian to meet me at the hospital, and spent the afternoon hooked up to monitors. The baby's heart rate was strong, and my blood pressure was back in the high range of normal, so they sent us home with a directive to take things easy—a challenge given our not-quite-completed bathroom project.