Identity Crisis

" I just felt something drop!" I yelled out in a panic.

I was 37 weeks pregnant and in active labor. I was 20 years old, having my first baby, a girl. Her father sat in a reclining hospital to my right.

" I have an uncontrollable urge to push." I continued.

All the medical professionals, (nurses and doctors) had left the room. My body felt like it was pushing on its own.

"Call the doctor!" my baby father shouted.

I picked up the remote looking thing that I was supposed to use if I needed anything.

" I can't stop pushing. This baby is gonna fall on the floor if nobody gets in here!" I was shouted. I didn't mean to be rude or abrupt, but the pain and pressure was a lot to handle.

"Ms. Giles, please stop pushing." The nurse said calmly.

"Miss... I'm pushing while we talking. Please send somebody in here to catch my baby!" I wasn't shouting this time; I was more matter of fact.

In a matter of seconds it seemed, the room was swarming with people in scrubs and gowns. A team from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit arrived as well. Apparently, my daughter was considered pre-mature since she was being born at 37 weeks. Three good, long pushes and she was out. Welcome daughter number one in February 2006 at 6:25am. It was a total of 6 hours from the start of labor to birth.

"Ms. Giles, if you have another baby, go to the hospital as soon as you feel pain." The doctor said.

At the age of 20 and having just given birth, I was not thinking a second child. I did wonder what he meant, for a moment anyway. 2006 was a busy year, at least the first few months were. Since I was pregnant, I knew I needed certain things, like a car. My mother didn't get her license and a car until I was in the 7th grade. I will never forget standing on bus stops in hard rain and blistering cold weather as a child. My mom would pull my little brother and me into her coat to help us keep warm. I remember watching her struggle to drag a stroller up the steps onto the bus. I wasn't going through that. I had a license already. I bought a car in January. I gave birth in February. I signed the lease to an apartment in March and we moved in in April. I also turned 21 in April.

Remember how I said I never thought about a second kid? Well, fast forward nine and half years...

"Mommy, it's some gray slime on the floor in the hallway." My now almost 10-year-old daughter said. Yes, I had a baby before, but I didn't experience the loss of a mucus plug (turns out, that's what it was). It seemed like as soon as the last word left her lips, I felt horrible pain in my abdomen. I was in labor with another girl. Her father was at work. It was 9:16am on a Wednesday in July 2015. We quickly jump into the car and head for the hospital. Luckily, it was just one highway exit away. The pain kept getting worse. I was leaning over the steering wheel (I could still see the road) crying and driving. We get to the hospital. There was nowhere to park. Even though I was actively in labor, I drove to the fifth floor of the parking garage and found a spot. I know, crazy. I get out and my water breaks. My water didn't break the first time. The elevator was too slow, so I took the stairs. There is this very pregnant woman slowly walking across the lot and downstairs holding her belly and crying. Someone must've alerted security because as soon as my foot hit the ground, I was scooped into a wheelchair and rushed to labor and delivery. Nurses took my daughter. They played games with her because she was crying and worried about me. This labor was different and ten times more painful than the first time. I recall a nurse saying, "spontaneous vortex labor." They're asking me to sign papers while I'm in agony.

"I feel like a chainsaw the size of a truck is sitting on and stabbing me simultaneously! Please get these papers out my face!" I yelled.

I started to push. I felt a burning sensation.

"That's just the ring of fire. A nurse said casually.

"The WHAT?!?" I asked.

The "ring of fire" refers to the burning felt when your baby is tearing your nether regions on the way out. None of this happened the first time around. I was 40 weeks and 3days pregnant. I felt it meant something: my oldest daughter was born 3 weeks early and my youngest was born 3 days late. At 11:18am, my second daughter was born. It was then that I understood what that doctor meant when he said to go to the hospital as soon as my labor pains started. It was six hours from the start of labor to birth for my oldest daughter and two hours from the start of labor to birth for my second. If I ever decide to have a third, I'm just gonna live in the hospital the last two months.

Here I am today at the age of 39 realizing that my ENTIRE identity is being a single mother. I have never been married. I only have two friends. I don't have any hobbies. I sacrificed my life to raise my daughters. I hope I don't sound bitter or resentful because I assure you, I am not. I made the choices I made because I wanted to. I never got seriously involved with any men because I wasn't comfortable having a man around my daughters. I now realize I did things this way because of my own childhood trauma related to men. I passed on career opportunities that would keep me away for long periods. My babies are now 18 and 10. I will always have the title of "mom", but my children need me less and less each day. Since I made them my life, there is nothing else beyond that. Wht happens when my youngest doesn't need me at all anymore? My oldest is already branching out, preparing to leave the nest. Guess it's time for mommy to get a life...