365 days can be converted to one of these units:
* 31,536,000 seconds
* 525,600 minutes
* 8760 hours
* 52 weeks (rounded down)
I remember clearly, this time last year, being angry, hot, past due, and feeling mild contractions. Since we all figured you'd come around late June, early July at the latest, I was past tired and annoyed with the waiting game. The thought of going through labor again scared the living dayligts out of me. I was told, as most people are, that the second time around would be quicker and more intense. The idea of pain more intense than what I felt with Zayd down right terrified me. I think, well at least in part, you stayed inside a little longer to help me mentally prepare for the task at hand. I remember going to jummah the day before your birth and finally feeling ready to face the unknown. i tearfully pleaded with Allah to "get this baby out of me" so that I could begin the journey of geting to know you.
My labor intensified by the morning. I remember cleaning the bathroom at around 11am and talking to your auntie. I told her that I was in labor, but that I wasn't going to "tell anyone", because again, I was past due and onry as they come. After scrubbing the bathrom to my satisfaction one last time, your father, your grandmother, your brother and I proceeded to the park to take a slow and contraction filed walk aroud the lake. I will say, for July 11, it was mercifully cool that day. I remember stopping ever so often to do my nice pregnant rock and sway on your father's shoulders. We actualy had a wonderful heart to heart in between contractions on a bench by the lake, while your grandmother played with your brother at the park.
Next, we headed to Panera, because a girls got to eat and all. By this time my contractions were super intense, and I was once again annoyed that everyone else was laughing and enjoying themselves at the table, while I felt like my insides were splitting open. I managed to eat my food anyway, even though my stomach felt like a tight ball.
Next, upon my insistance, we headed to Walmart for something random like paper towels, that I felt I just had to have before I had my baby. Being the prepared people that your father and I are, we also picked up a birthing ball and a few things for my hospital stay. What I remember most about Walmart is your father and I obsessing over finding a video long enough to keep Zayd's attention while we were gone. As much as I knew you were coming, my brain was still very fixated on insuring that your brother was comfortable while I was gone. I didn't want to leave him. I remember that vividly.
My contractions were pretty intense in Walmart-- gosh this sounds so dang on suburban-- a lot of nice onlookers stopped to offer their support. I had another big one or two in the parking lot, which dang near scared this poor man to death. Mom suggested that we head straight to the hospital once we dropped she and Zayd off, but Khalid and I both felt it was too soon.
At home I some how found a way to wobble my huge butt up three flights of steps to get into my bathtub. To say that sitting in that warm water felt good would be the understatement of the year. Somewhere around this time, the thought that had been firmly rooted in the back of my mind began to fel like the best decision. I wanted to go to the hospital about as much as one wants to get a limb cut off. My doctor was on vacation, we never actually did the hospital tour, I didn't want to leave my mom and Zayd, and I felt so very comfortable and safe in my home.
Your father was dashing around like a mad man packing his hospital bag. The fact that he was doing this while I was in active labor kinda pissed me off a lot, and is something that I still hold over his head. Mom kept bringing my iced tea and other good things to eat and drink. She tried very hard to get me dresed to go to the hospital. At this point I remember sobbing and telling her that I didn't want to go. She tried to have this talk about how I had to and it would be okay, but I found her much more comforting thatn last-minute-hospital-bag-packer, and the thought of leaving her was just not an option.
Mom managed to wrangle me into some maternity clothes and Khalid went to load the car. By this point I was down right sobbing about how I didn't want to go. I made it down one flight of steps, my water broke,and the pain became unbearable. I remember letting out a loud howl, hearing a huge splash on the floor, and being brought down to my knees with the intensity of the pain. Mom was still desperately trying to usher me down the steps so that I could get into the car to go to the hospital. I knew, clear as day, that me getting into a car at this point was not an option. Mom kept insisting, so I did what any reasonable person would do on all fours climping down their staircase-- I began to push. You mother is a champion pusher, masha'Allah, I've been doing Kegels since way back, and pushing to me is the one satisfying and redeeming thing about labor. I love to push, and as I crawled down the steps on my hands and knees, that's just what I did. I will never forget your grandmother telling me to stop pushing. Always the willful child, that just made me go at it with more intensity.
By the bottom of the stairwell, I substantially certain that everyone was on board with the fact that I was going to have you sooner than I'd be able to get to any hospital. Your father matter-o-factly said, "Yeah, she's crowning". At ths point my discomfort level was about 900%, so I begged for a pillow to put under my back so that I could push you out on the floor with some dignity and all.
So I lay there on the floor, with your grandmother acting as midwife, and your father acting as birth coach, while passing instructions to yor grandmother via 911. Poor Zayd was so frightened by all the screaming that he holed himself up in the guestroom and looked at us al like we were insane. I remember him calling out for me, and me trying to reassure him that I was okay. A few screams and three good pushes later, you came into this world riding a sea of amniotic fluid. Zayd ran over and exclaimed, "Ohh, a baby!". You waved your left arm in the air as to catch your bearings and let out the sweetest little baby cry. My heart melted and I felt that new baby love that is primal and intense.
The super nice EMT guys came and took us to the hospital. I spent most of the night just holding you and looking at you; too high on adrenaline to even sleep. You had the fatest little red cheeks and these little eyes that just seemed wise beyond their years.
* 31,536,000 seconds
* 525,600 minutes
* 8760 hours
* 52 weeks (rounded down)
I remember clearly, this time last year, being angry, hot, past due, and feeling mild contractions. Since we all figured you'd come around late June, early July at the latest, I was past tired and annoyed with the waiting game. The thought of going through labor again scared the living dayligts out of me. I was told, as most people are, that the second time around would be quicker and more intense. The idea of pain more intense than what I felt with Zayd down right terrified me. I think, well at least in part, you stayed inside a little longer to help me mentally prepare for the task at hand. I remember going to jummah the day before your birth and finally feeling ready to face the unknown. i tearfully pleaded with Allah to "get this baby out of me" so that I could begin the journey of geting to know you.
My labor intensified by the morning. I remember cleaning the bathroom at around 11am and talking to your auntie. I told her that I was in labor, but that I wasn't going to "tell anyone", because again, I was past due and onry as they come. After scrubbing the bathrom to my satisfaction one last time, your father, your grandmother, your brother and I proceeded to the park to take a slow and contraction filed walk aroud the lake. I will say, for July 11, it was mercifully cool that day. I remember stopping ever so often to do my nice pregnant rock and sway on your father's shoulders. We actualy had a wonderful heart to heart in between contractions on a bench by the lake, while your grandmother played with your brother at the park.
Next, we headed to Panera, because a girls got to eat and all. By this time my contractions were super intense, and I was once again annoyed that everyone else was laughing and enjoying themselves at the table, while I felt like my insides were splitting open. I managed to eat my food anyway, even though my stomach felt like a tight ball.
Next, upon my insistance, we headed to Walmart for something random like paper towels, that I felt I just had to have before I had my baby. Being the prepared people that your father and I are, we also picked up a birthing ball and a few things for my hospital stay. What I remember most about Walmart is your father and I obsessing over finding a video long enough to keep Zayd's attention while we were gone. As much as I knew you were coming, my brain was still very fixated on insuring that your brother was comfortable while I was gone. I didn't want to leave him. I remember that vividly.
My contractions were pretty intense in Walmart-- gosh this sounds so dang on suburban-- a lot of nice onlookers stopped to offer their support. I had another big one or two in the parking lot, which dang near scared this poor man to death. Mom suggested that we head straight to the hospital once we dropped she and Zayd off, but Khalid and I both felt it was too soon.
At home I some how found a way to wobble my huge butt up three flights of steps to get into my bathtub. To say that sitting in that warm water felt good would be the understatement of the year. Somewhere around this time, the thought that had been firmly rooted in the back of my mind began to fel like the best decision. I wanted to go to the hospital about as much as one wants to get a limb cut off. My doctor was on vacation, we never actually did the hospital tour, I didn't want to leave my mom and Zayd, and I felt so very comfortable and safe in my home.
Your father was dashing around like a mad man packing his hospital bag. The fact that he was doing this while I was in active labor kinda pissed me off a lot, and is something that I still hold over his head. Mom kept bringing my iced tea and other good things to eat and drink. She tried very hard to get me dresed to go to the hospital. At this point I remember sobbing and telling her that I didn't want to go. She tried to have this talk about how I had to and it would be okay, but I found her much more comforting thatn last-minute-hospital-bag-packer, and the thought of leaving her was just not an option.
Mom managed to wrangle me into some maternity clothes and Khalid went to load the car. By this point I was down right sobbing about how I didn't want to go. I made it down one flight of steps, my water broke,and the pain became unbearable. I remember letting out a loud howl, hearing a huge splash on the floor, and being brought down to my knees with the intensity of the pain. Mom was still desperately trying to usher me down the steps so that I could get into the car to go to the hospital. I knew, clear as day, that me getting into a car at this point was not an option. Mom kept insisting, so I did what any reasonable person would do on all fours climping down their staircase-- I began to push. You mother is a champion pusher, masha'Allah, I've been doing Kegels since way back, and pushing to me is the one satisfying and redeeming thing about labor. I love to push, and as I crawled down the steps on my hands and knees, that's just what I did. I will never forget your grandmother telling me to stop pushing. Always the willful child, that just made me go at it with more intensity.
By the bottom of the stairwell, I substantially certain that everyone was on board with the fact that I was going to have you sooner than I'd be able to get to any hospital. Your father matter-o-factly said, "Yeah, she's crowning". At ths point my discomfort level was about 900%, so I begged for a pillow to put under my back so that I could push you out on the floor with some dignity and all.
So I lay there on the floor, with your grandmother acting as midwife, and your father acting as birth coach, while passing instructions to yor grandmother via 911. Poor Zayd was so frightened by all the screaming that he holed himself up in the guestroom and looked at us al like we were insane. I remember him calling out for me, and me trying to reassure him that I was okay. A few screams and three good pushes later, you came into this world riding a sea of amniotic fluid. Zayd ran over and exclaimed, "Ohh, a baby!". You waved your left arm in the air as to catch your bearings and let out the sweetest little baby cry. My heart melted and I felt that new baby love that is primal and intense.
The super nice EMT guys came and took us to the hospital. I spent most of the night just holding you and looking at you; too high on adrenaline to even sleep. You had the fatest little red cheeks and these little eyes that just seemed wise beyond their years.
Always the rebel, we fought like crazy to get released early, and you were home, in my arms by that next evening.
That's your story Baby Girl. I pray that your life is as unique and as exciting as your entry into this world.
