Okay, I know I've been MIA for most of my pregnancy.  I have to admit that it was pretty rough.  I always imagined myself as one of those pregnant women who keep up with everything going on, never let the pregnancy get them down or use it as an excuse not to do what needs to be done.  But then I got pregnant myself and I wondered how the hell these crazy women pulled off such a thing.  After working 50 hours a week, all I had time to do, or even wanted to do, was come home every afternoon and go straight to bed. 

     In my fifth month, my doctor told me that he was worried about my blood pressure and referred me to a neonatologist in Jackson, who put me on medication and got me started going to the hospital twice a week for a non-stress test.  Then my doctor had me coming to see him every two weeks instead of once a month.  Two weeks later, it was every week.  So I was going to the hospital twice a week, to my doctor once a week, and to Jackson every three or four weeks.  With all this running around, plus my busy work schedule, it's no wonder my BP kept going up.

     Then, on September 5, I was told to go to bed and stay there until I had the baby.  On September 12, I got out of bed to go to the hospital for the routine non-stress test and was told that my BP had reached 180/129.  Te nurses called my doctor and he came straight to the hospital.  He walked casually into the room where I was hooked up to the monitoring equipment, calmly listening to my baby's heartbeat, and told me that it was time to deliver the baby.  We were about to do a C-section, so I needed to call whoever I wanted to be there.

     After two quick phone calls, one to my boyfriend and one to my mom, everything else is almost lost in a whirlwind of nervousness, fear, anxiety, anticipation, and just about every other emotion it is possible to feel in a situation like that.  I remember Robert walking in only a couple minutes after I called, and seeing all of my feelings mirrored on his face.  Then my mom was there a couple minutes later.  I remember both of them pacing nervously around the room, and wishing I could get up and pace with them, but by this time I was on IV and couldn't get up unless it was to go to the bathroom.  I remember thinking that this was not the way it was supposed to happen.  I was supposed to go into labor, and Robert was supposed to be there beside me, coaching me through the contractions just like we had prepared for. 

     Then they came in with a gurney to carry me to surgery.  My legs were like rubber climbing onto it, and I was wanting to yell out, "No, we can't do this, I'm not ready!"  But I kept my mouth shut and they were wheeling me down the hall, Robert on one side and my mom on the other.  At the doors to the surgery ward, they told my mom that she couldn't go any farther, and she kissed me goodbye.  Then, on the other side of those doors, they told Robert that he had to wait in the doctor's lounge until everything was ready.  I wanted him there with me, but I knew it would do no good to protest. They parked me in the hallway outside the surgery suite for a few minutes while they got everything ready, and I could see Robert's back by turning and looking over my shoulder, so I focused on him while I waited. Then they wheeled me inside and the real fun began.

     I had seen videos of spinal anesthesia, and I knew that I didn't want them doing that to me, but I had no choice if I wanted Robert to be able to be in there when our baby was born.  I have to admit that  it was one of the worst experiences of my life.  I could feel the needle going into my spine, and it hurt like hell, but I couldn't even try to pull away.  My body kept wanting to pull away from him, but I had to fight it.  I just closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and hoped that he would be done soon.  I felt the needle slide in farther, and a jolt down my right leg, and a minute later, it was over.  I was laid back down and I could feel the lower half of my body disappearing, but not as rapidly as I wanted.  I was still able to feel it when they spread my legs open to insert the catheter.  I could feel them touching me like I was just a piece of meat.  Then everything was gone.

     There was, of course, a sheet hung up to keep me from seeing what was going on down there, but I knew that my whole body was naked from the chest down, and there were about ten people walking around in the room.  The anesthesiologist sat by my left arm, which was strapped down, and told me that his name was Bob, and if I needed anything to just let him know.  I asked him if my boyfriend could come in now, and he sent a nurse to get him.  Once Robert was there, I began to relax a little more.  I laid staring up at the ceiling, feeling all of the tugging sensations on my dead lower half, until I saw my doctor's hand, with blood all over the glove, come up over the surtain for something, then I closed my eyes and just focused on Robert's hand held tight in mine.

     Then next thing I knew, Bob reached over with both hands and presses downward on my rib cage.  Then he did it again, and I felt the oddest sensation that everything inside me had fallen out.  One of the nurses called out, "A baby girl," and my heart suddenly grew wings.  A moment later, I heard a high-pitched, agonized wail that could only come from a new baby, and turned to look into Robert's eyes.  I remarked on what a stronc cry she had, and he just nodded. I asked him if he could see her, and he shook his head.  I squeezed his hand and closed my eyes again, just listening to that beautiful crying. 

     A short time later, one of the nurses said, "Alright, Mom, a qhick peek, and we have to get her to the nursery."  Suddenly, my baby appeared around the side of the curtain, and I reached out for her.  I touched her hand and said her name, then smiled at the camera as the nurse snapped our picture, the first picture of us as a family.  Then they were whisking her away.  They told Robert to come on, it was time for him to go too, and he turned to me like he was hesitant to leave, so I told him to go.  I watched as they walked out the door together, and the nurse put Alexa in the incubator, then they started down the hall, and they were gone. 

     I closed my eyes and I think I dozed a little as the doctors were putting my body back together behind the curtain.  Next thing I knew, they were wheeling me out of the room and parking me in a little dark cubicle that had to be recovery.  The nurse was taking my blood pressure and putting medicine into my IV drip.  She told me to let her know if I needed anything, and she told me her name, but I can't remember what it was.  My mom came in and told me that they said my blood pressure was still too high and they wanted to keep me calm, so she couldn't stay long.  She held my hand and talked to me for a few minutes, then she kissed me and left, saying that she would send Robert in.  A minute later, he came in, and I know we talked, but I can't remember what we said.  Then he was gone, and I was alone again.  My belly was starting to ache, so I told the nurse, and she started me on a morphine drip. 

     Soon, they were wheeling me back to the labor and delivery suite, preferring to keep me there overnight instead of sending me to my own room.  I was drugged, I wanted to sleep, I wanted to see my baby, but I remembered someone telling me that she would be on oxygen and antibiotics in the nursery for 12 hours as a precaution because she was so early.  My mom came in for a few minutes with my brother, his girlfriend, and my little neice.  Shane, one of our friends in the apartment building, came in and talked to me for a minute.  Robert was there for a little while.  And the rest of the night was lost in a drugged daze.  The nurses helped me roll over a couple times, and I rolled over on my own a couple times.  They were constantly waking me up, checking my BP and fiddling with all my tubes and wires.  A couple times I woke up in some pain, and pushed the button to administer a little more morphine, then I was out again.

     The next morning, my mom was there when I came around.  I remember asking the nurses over and over to take the morphine drip off because I didn't like being so out of it.  I had pictures of my baby but still didn't reallt know what she looked like because I was seeing double.  I was dozing in and out, waking up when someone spoke to me, and answering questions, although there's no telling what the answers were.  I've never responded well to drugs, and the morphine was kicking my ass.  Finally they took it off, and I started to feel a little less stoned.

     They took all the wires and tubes off me a little at a time, and eventually I was able to get up and go to the bathroom.  That was a horrible experience in itself, having to clean myself up with the help of the nurse and put on those strange little gauze panties with the pad big enough to reach from my belly button to the small of my back.  They kept telling me that they were going to take me up tp my room and let me stop by the nursery to see Alexa, but they weren't actually doing it.

     Finally, they brought my baby to me to nurse, and only a parent can understand the feeling of holding her in my arms dor the first time.  I put her to my breast and she latched on almost immediately.  I unwrapped her blanket and studied the little feet and hands, fingers and toes, committing it all to memory even through the fog of morphine. 

     I could go on with the story.  It definitely doesn't end there, but this has been probably the longest entry in history.  Maybe I'll recount the rest of it later, but the most important part was right there in the last paragraph.  It was love at first sight, and it only grows stronger every time I lay eyes on her.

Alexa Claire was born on September 12, 2006, at 3:00 pm.  She weighed 4lb 15.6oz and was 16 1/2 inches long.  She is a perfectly healthy little girl, despite being small, and is growing so fast you can almost sit and watch her.

     Okay, here it goes... I have recently received a comment on my site from a lady named Michelle.  First of all, I would like to thank Michelle for coming to my site, although I believe she found it while she was out witch-hunting and only came long enough to post her message. 

     Next, I would like to mention the fact that pagans, as well as people of most other religions, do not go out seeking people from other cultures and trying to recruit them.  I have no objections to anyone's religion and believe that everyone has the right to choose his or her own path.  If anyone comes to me with questions, I will gladly give answers, but I do not go out into other people's space and preach my ways.

     All I ask is to be left alone to practice my ways, be myself, and live my life in the best way I see fit.  I appreciate the fact that Michelle is attempting to help me and that she honestly feels sorry for me because I am going to hell.  But before you help someone, you should first assure yourself that the person needs help. 

     I am not lost, Michelle.  I was lost for many years, going from church to church, trying to find a place where I would fit in, where I felt welcome and didn't feel out of place.  Finally, I met a lady who called herself a witch.  Curious, I asked her to explain, then to show me more, and more.  The more I studied, the more I realized that this was where I belonged, what I truly was. 

     Thank you for what you see as kindness, Michelle.  Thank you for your concern and for showing that you care in the only way you know how.  But I must also say, "No, thank you." I am happy where I am, the path I am travelling.  I can't say that you aren't right, that my path isn't taking me straight to hell, because none of us knows for a fact what is real and what is not. 

     But I can say that my path has taken me much farther in life than any other path I attempted to wander.  When death comes, hopefully many years from now, I will not be afraid to go on, to see what lies ahead.  If I find then that I was wrong in life, that will be another of many mistakes I have made in this life and I will take my punishment just as I always have.  But I will not let fear keep me from being who I am.