Our sweet girl is here, our Polly Rose.
I had thought things were imminent for days and weeks prior, going to bed night after night, 4 CM dilated and still waking up pregnant. Going for walks, going for acupuncture and to the physio, awkwardly attempting my yoga and maternal positioning alignment, trying to finish unpacking and manage an almost two year old. Not knowing if we were having a boy or girl, not knowing when. Pregnancy is the most beautiful uncertainty, I loved the liminal days and nights feeling full and, in the end, very ready. I’d stay up long after Aggie and Reece were in bed just thinking through what lay ahead, appreciating the last moments to myself.
It was all very lovely, but it was slow. It wasn’t till our midwife broke my waters at 41 weeks that things all came together. I was sad not to go into labour at home, out of the blue, though it certainly worked out for the best. From my first contraction to when I started pushing was just two hours, and 40 minutes later she was in my arms - not a thing I’d like to have managed driving across town to the hospital with little notice and such a powerful first stage. It was good to be settled in the birthing suite, feeling the energy shfift and change. My contractions were intense, but breathing deeply through them, remaining active, and having such trust in my care made all the difference. Reece and I were so beautifully supported by our midwife Jess, somehow both a powerhouse and a very gentle touch. And our wonderful student-midwife Tayler, who was with us for Agnes’ birth two years ago too, our girls bookending her degree. The consistency was a real gift.
Holding Polly felt both surreal and completely expected, like we’d been waiting for her all along. The exhaustion and the high, and all those hormones. I’ve never felt so tired or worked so hard and yet felt so well. Powerful. Present. Elated. There is something about the pain, ‘functional pain’, as Rhea Dempsey calls it, that builds the momentum and increases the joy. It was hard to endure but it never felt threatening. For me, it was a truly beautiful experience, astounding to know my body is capable of such a thing.
And she is a rosebud, so small and sweet, a miracle of blue eyes and fair hair that we can’t quite believe. Nothing at all like her sister, or either of us for that matter, just her own small self. We have been home a few days now and it feels like a dream. The weight of her in my arms and the small coos and soft breaths are heaven. I don’t want this time to end. We wrap her and hold her and stare at her endlessly, our life a triangle between the bed and the couch and her small cot (which is on wheels - we were smarter this time). Life feels slower, like we’re moving through honey and everything is golden.
YEAR NINE / YEAR EIGHT / YEAR SEVEN / YEAR SIX / YEAR FIVE / YEAR FOUR / YEAR THREE / YEAR TWO / YEAR ONE
