In honor of Mother’s Day, I thought I would share with y’all the crazy story of how I came to realize that I was in labor with my firstborn. It all started in Lamaze class. We had arrived at the relaxation and breathing techniques segment of the class.
We settled into our relaxation areas on the floor of the classroom. We each found our most comfortable positions. The teacher stood near the front of the room.
“Close your eyes,” she told us. “And imagine you’re somewhere beautiful and relaxing.”
She proceeded to recommend a few common places, such as a beach. She reminded us to never imagine meeting our babies because this could in some rare instances induce labor. *I’ve always wondered if that was true.
I closed my eyes. I tried to relax and focus. I found myself on a beautiful beach of cream-colored sand. The water that lapped the shore was as blue as the sky. The sporadic wisps of soft clouds could have been air-brushed.
I sat in the sand with my hands planted behind me in a semi-recline. The sand felt cool beneath my hands. My breathing was slow and steady. I could feel the sound of the tide that flowed in and then out again. I felt myself beginning to drift off.
Suddenly, a set of stairs three high appeared as though they’d always been carved directly into the sand. As if the sculptor of the stairs had marbleized them with magic. At the top of the steps stood a little boy of about two.
He began carefully making his way down the steps. His curls bobbed on his head as he walked along the beach towards me. His smile grew wider and wider. He broke out into a run coming right towards me.
I was standing, though I couldn’t remember standing up. He came to a stop in front of me, that beautiful smile still on his face. He slipped his little hand in mine.
“Come on, Mommy, it’s time to go,” he said in a soft, sweet voice.
“She’s in labor. You need to get her to the hospital,” the teacher was saying.
I opened my eyes to realize that it was me she was talking about. I’ll never know how she knew. I didn’t feel like I was in labor. Just a few short hours later (and five weeks earlier than expected), I was holding my little boy in my arms.