There’s so much more to being a birth photographer than knowing how to work the camera and the lighting in the room. I don’t feel you don’t have to be a mother to understand, but you do have to have a personal connection with the miracle of life that is happening before you. Birth has to excite you. There has to be something that drives you to the point of wanting to spend hours in a sometimes tense environment with strangers that really wish you were a speck on the wall and nothing more. I was a photographer that was intrigued and marveled by the magic of seeing women give birth to their babies way before I ever thought I would get the chance to do so myself. I would cry when the moms would cry and I would smile just watching all the family glow with happiness over their new bundle of joy. But now that I have been on the other side of that lens, my perspective has widen. I now know what it feels like to be the one in pain, to be the one observed, to feel vulnerable and exposed and ultimately feel as the queen of the room once I held my two princes in my arms. In the following post I will be sharing my emotional journey of the day I joined the pack, the day I became a mom. Grab a cup of coffee and some cookies, this is a long one. 🙂
I wanted to share these pictures with you not so that you can review my work (because these pictures are not my own), but rather so you can see a side of me that’s more than just the birth photographer. This was undoubtedly the greatest birth story I’ve ever witnessed. This one made my heart skip beats and had me glowing so so bright. I’m talking about the happiest day of my life; the day William & Matthew were born. The time I spent pregnant with the boys changed my life. I stopped working altogether because I had all-day morning sickness. I wasn’t eating or sleeping very well and felt weak all day. Because I was expecting twins, the doctors considered that I was a high-risk patient. That meant I had to take things a bit easier than usual of which I took total advantage. I knew once the boys arrived I would be begging for a nap. I was so anxious all along, wondering everyday what my babies would look like. What would they sound like. I would lay in bed and run names with D, wondering what it would sound like to yell that name out-loud. WILLLL-LI-AM! MATTHEEEWWW! MATEOO! WILLIAM! (Will has always been called William and poor Matt has so many names he doesn’t even know which one to respond to.) Time flew by, it didn’t feel like it then, but I blinked and was already close enough where the doctors started talking to me about birth scenarios. At one of those doctor visits I was told that for our delivery, although they would allow me to try to birth them naturally, I would have to do so in an Operation Room (OR). Which meant that only D would be allowed in the room. I remember looking at my husband and fighting back the tears. I asked why if this wasn’t going to be a c-section or a complicated thing, and they responded that because there was going to be two teams, one for each baby, they wouldn’t have any extra room for any other family members. I specified that I wanted to have a birth photographer, and they once again said that D would have to be the one taking the pictures. Maybe for someone else this wouldn’t of been a big deal. But for me, this was heart-breaking. All along my pregnancy I had been researching who I thought would make a good fit for me. I imagined all the beautiful pictures we would have of each one of us holding a baby. I imagined our faces meeting W & M. I imagined how D would have this ‘I want to cry but I’m not going to face’. And with those news, all those dreams and wishes I had were taken away. It made me so sad. I didn’t want to be dramatic and keep telling D all that I felt, because I knew he understood how much this meant to me. So I put on my big girl pants and came to terms with the fact that any picture given to me I would be happy for. I just needed something. Even if it was blurry or out of focus, or if you could see my privates. I just wanted him to try. And the same went for my cousin Jael, I just wanted her to shoot anything and everything while we were able to be together. I hated the fact I put them to work, but felt there was no other way. Although this goes against what I believe in and what I would of liked, I want to show you what happens when your family is the photographer. I feel guilty. Guilty that I made my husband miss out almost everything because he was trying to be in three places at once, (with me, with Matt and with Will). I would look at him and he was torn between enjoying the moment and having the camera in front of his face. When Will was born he literally took about 3 or 4 pictures and just called it quits. He wasn’t going to get a second chance at looking and touching them for the first time. He didn’t get to hold them until one of the nurses said, “Let’s take a picture of you with both of them.”
I’m sorry babe for being such a pain and talking you into this. I know you did it because we had no other choice, it was either that or nothing. You kept telling me that the only way I was going to be happy was if I shot them myself, and that’s not true. I am so so happy with all that you did. I have already told you so many times before, but thank you. Thank you from the top/bottom of my heart for always aiming to please me. For our next baby, 🙂 we will try our best on relieving you of photo duties, I promise.
He wrote me a little piece that you can read <here> about what it was like for him to be in both roles, dad/photographer. If you haven’t already read it, do so before continuing on. He makes me so happy. Alright enough with the back story. This is how our day went along:
Our birth story starts at 4 am when my water broke while I was sleeping and I felt like I really had to go to the bathroom. I was 35+2 weeks along and was not expecting this at all. I woke up my husband and he for some reason thought I would be in pain and gushing water all over the place, and because I wasn’t he thought this wasn’t the real thing. So he did what I’ll never forget, he went back to bed. BACK TO SLEEP. I of course knew this was it, so I slowly started running a list through my head of all that I needed to do before we left. Camera: check. Batteries: check. Memory cards: check. Socks: check. He gets up and says why are you packing so slow? We’ve got to go now! We got our baby bags (which were already packed since my 30th week, just in case) and headed to the hospital with my mom. I wasn’t feeling the slightest discomfort yet so I kept telling them I wanted to eat something because once I was in the hospital I wasn’t allowed to. They said no. They kept telling me we had to rush. ( these amateurs had no idea we were in for a long ride ) Once we arrived at the hospital and got checked in I was already 2 centimeters. Yay! Bring on the birthing ball and let me be free to walk around the room.
But that happy pain free feeling did not last at all. At around my 3rd centimeter I started to feel those contractions. At this point all my family already knew I was in labor and they slowly starting pouring in. I was NOT a happy camper about this. I don’t do people and pain. I wanted to be polite and understanding that they were all happy and excited, but I was not ready for a cuban family get-together in my small room. So I let D know and we pretty much set the rule that when a contraction would come everyone had to be quiet and let me work through it in silence on my own. Once it was over they could go back to talking. (Can you believe I did this for over an hour?) My grouchiness slowly started to take over the stronger the contractions were. I kept wondering if I was dialating any because the pain was getting stronger and more frequent, but I hadn’t been checked since arriving. At my next check, the nurse said I was 5/6 centimeters so I requested the epidural. I would of loved to of gone drug free, just because I have a high tolerance for pain and for once wanted to do something the old school way, but that was another requirement from my doctor. In order to try to give birth to them naturally I had to have an epidural in case of an emergency they wouldn’t loose time. I was more nervous about the epi than anything else during labor. I had seen that needle before and the whole process when taking birth photos so my nerves had the best of me. Not to mention the boys were moving like crazy and I kept getting contractions, so staying still was extremely difficult. I also remember other hospitals letting the husband stay in the room for the epidural and in our case D had to walk out. So there I was, being told I seem to have a mild case of scoliosis, no wait, you’re sitting on something, ok that’s better (as if I needed to be worried about anything else). It was in and now I was ready to listen to all the cuban chatter and let everyone else in. Happy Abby was back. Yay!
It was finally time to push. We started “practicing” in the same room I had been all along. This, I soon realized, was much more difficult than I thought. Because I didn’t feel my bottom, I wasn’t sure how to push. I kept thinking I was doing it right but all I was pushing was my stomach. Going no where fast. Until I finally started understanding my numb body. My doctor kept switching from being nice and funny to COME ON WOMAN! YOU CAN DO THIS! We’re going to have TWO BABIES! D kept seeing my tired face and he would try caressing me or petting my head… and this made me so furious. I snapped at him and said, “I need you to be strong for me. Help me push. Hold me hard and pull my legs back with me. Don’t be gentle and sweet when you know I have to be tough!” He tried, he tried so hard to be hard core for me. But I could tell he kept feeling sorry for me and Matthew being halfway stuck between hello. Once the doctor said we were ready they wheeled me to the operating room. SO MANY PEOPLE. (It was then I understood why they didn’t allow someone else in. I would of been a fly in the wall if it would of been a reverse scenario, but the hospital and the doctors are always cautious. So no one else could even peek in.) But we got a bit of sad news, all that progress from pushing had gone back to the very beginning. Matthew came back inside after all the commotion of moving me from another bed and everything else that was done to me. I wanted to cry. I already felt like there was nothing left in my lungs. I had no energy to push, we had been at it for over an hour. But I was determined. We were going to do this. SOME WAY, SOME HOW. We jammed to Salt n Pepa’s – Push it and Pitbull’s The Anthem, all picked and played by my friendly anesthesiologist. My doctor then took the approach of “let me scare her that we are going to make her have a c-section if she doesn’t push long and hard for me”. I didn’t want a c-section. So folks I pushed until it felt I was nearly passing out. Each and every time.
First baby, Matthew. Oh Matthew, you got the best out of momma. It became real, there he was. Skinny and freaky looking but all mine. My baby boy. My heart beamed and raced so fast. I totally forgot about everything else in the room and focused on his little cry. The sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. He was ok. He was here. He looks ok, is he ok? No… don’t take him I haven’t gotten a good enough look at him… Babe follow him!
For those of you who don’t know much about me, I started shooting births in 2009, and ever since then I have had baby fever. Quiet and deep, ripping every strand of my heart. I wanted to be a mom. In that moment, while holding Matthew I experienced what I had seen all those other moms live. I was the one feeling so many things at once I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, whether to take him away from the nurse that was cleaning and checking him out or just watch. I had waited for this moment for what seemed like forever.
But just as they took Matthew and I felt the adrenaline rush, I was quickly reminded, OK! Now we have to push for William. Right! I have to keep doing this. ONE MORE TIME.
10 minutes later while I was laughing (not pushing) William was born. My tiny baby. My fighter and the one who ALWAYS had hiccups. I was complete. I had succeed in carrying them long enough to be healthy and here with us. No more pushing. No more being scared. My William was here and I was done. Will was taken even quicker than Matt. I was no longer pregnant, and something about that made me sad. I remember touching my stomach over all the stuff they had over me and thinking, they’re gone. And they were, the nurses had whisked them away and D was beside them. I wanted to see and be there so badly that I wanted to cry. Why was this taking so long and why weren’t they bring them back? Is everything ok? And then a nurse came to me and told me, “Good job momma, two babies… you’re a superwoman.” And in that moment my sadness was released. I cried and soon I had Matthew back by my side. All happy again. ( those hormones during the first days of giving birth are no joke. )
Our first picture as family of four. ( taken by one of the nurses ) And the only one I have of all of us where you can see all of our faces.
He looked so happy. I’m so grateful that the nurse offered to take pictures of him as well because if not I would have never seen this. I missed this, I was even around when he was holding them. I don’t even remember now, much of what he said or looked like during this time, because when I looked over at him, all I saw was the camera. But here there is proof: your daddy was there and he was thrilled to be holding you. His two strong boys. He’s making #1 and #2 signs because the nurses told him to until they labeled the boys. I cant get over that proud look on his face. We did it. We made these babies! (Now what? 🙂 I joke, I joke.)
The boys were then taken to the NICU and so began our days spent in the hospital. I cried because I didn’t get to hold them long at all before they were in the NICU. And my agony to be with them took over every fiber in my being. I didn’t want to see any of the family, I didn’t want to eat or sleep, I wanted to be in the NICU with my babies. We didn’t get the birth day I had photographed for so many moms where after L&D the baby stays in the room with them for all the family to see and they get to carry and nurse and sleep with that little angel… we had our hearts split between NICU room #7 & #8 where each of our babies were. I think only moms that have been through this will truly understand. I was not me. I was not thinking like a normal human being. I was an emotional wreck constantly worrying about every beep each machine made and whether or not my baby was doing better enough to be taken home with me. And to be honest, I still know I had it GREAT, AMAZING, because I know of so many other moms that were in there with me who weren’t looking at a completely healthy baby. Babies that had major complications, and my heart indefinitely goes out to all of them. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in their shoes. NICU days are definitely stressful for every family. We celebrate the smallest of margin gains. Weight gain: 3 grams!! YAY! Temperature degrees: up a couple, they can now wear hats… yay!! They can now wear clothes. YAY!!! We can try breast feeding without the tube. Just what I’ve been waiting to hear all along! Every step of the way you celebrate. Those tiny babies are fighting to beat time, to catch up with the big fellas. They are strong and relentless… they don’t give up. After a couple of days of being in separate rooms, they put us all in the same room. Boy were we ecstatic. Our whole family finally back together again. The boys finally back together. I would cry just seeing them side by side. My little babies.
God has blessed me with two little munchkins that have given such meaning to our lives. D and I talk about when the boys were born all the time. I still blame myself for steeling time and memories from him. Because all along in this journey, it hasn’t been just about me. It’s always been about us. He only missed ONE of our countless appointments every two weeks throughout the whole pregnancy. There wasn’t a moment I felt he wasn’t going to be there for Will and Matt. We’ve been a team and a united force to be reckoned with. You take a close look at our birth photos and you see me and my boys. But I would have loved to see, US and OUR boys. Life is funny that way. I now appreciate what it is I do for others that much more. What I would of given to change the way things happened for us.
I hope you all enjoyed looking over tiny Will and Matt and reading the story of the day they were born. Motherhood is such a beautiful gift. I am going to close this post with words to my little ones, because seeing them like this makes me want to say things that they can later look back to.
Hi boys. Momma is still nuts. But I love you. More than I could ever write and more than I could ever show. I hope you don’t ever get mad at me for showing others your birth pictures. I know you weren’t looking your hottest but they are my FAVORITES. Your dad worked really hard to get your best angles. Matt, we purposely did not show your weird head because I don’t think you would of forgiven us for that one. Thank you for coming to us the way you did. You made us stronger and ALIVE. We now live for you. I could of never asked for two more precious little babies to love and care for. Although I seem to forget at times, you both aren’t babies anymore. You are now ready to explore and learn about everything there is to see and touch. Please don’t grow up so fast. Please stay my babies a little longer. I haven’t gotten over the need to hold you and cuddle you in my arms and kiss you over and over again. The need to let you sleep on me and have you hold my neck. The need to check on you while you sleep and pick you up the moment you cry. I don’t ever think these needs will go away. I think I’ll just get used to hiding them so that I don’t make you uncomfortable or “uncool”. I love you my babies. Forever my babies.
Love always, Momma
