My Meaning #3

Updated: Jan 6

First, you read how I became a wife, then a mother, now you'll get a glimpse of how I became a mother of TWO and how we welcomed our second born.

Our first encounter
“Motherhood is a choice you make everyday, to put someone else's happiness and well-being ahead of your own, to teach the hard lessons, to do the right thing even when you're not sure what the right thing is...and to forgive yourself, over and over again, for doing everything wrong.” ― Donna Ball


After Matthew and Gabriella, came my meaning number three, the third reason for living, my perfect little doll, Maya Elise Abregu! This tiny peanut showed me an entirely new world in the delivery room, but before I get to that intense, most traumatizing 20 minutes of my life, let's start from the beginning!


Gabriella was seven months old when it all went down. Matthew and I were so in awe after we became parents, that we felt ready for number two. While discussing when we should begin trying, I looked at him, shrugged my shoulders, and suggested, why not now? His response took me off guard when he smiled and nodded in agreement. That was easy, I thought to myself.


Five weeks later, I peed on a stick and what do you know, it was positive. I laid my head on Matthew's shoulder and held the test in front of him to see. His mouth dropped, astonished. It was probably because it took ONE try to create a human. I laughed as he continued to take in the news. Moments passed, and we sat back, admiring our daughter, who was playing with her hands and talked about how she was going to be a big sister.


After sharing the great news with our family and friends, we began to prepare. Thanks to today's technology, we were able to find out the gender within 12 weeks of my pregnancy. We were secretly aiming for a boy. Okay, it wasn't a secret! Matthew and I wanted that boy alright. On the other hand, what we truly wanted was a healthy baby, of course. As we sat impatiently at Olive Garden, he requested I look at the results first. I scroll through my emails and find the link. Here we are, not knowing what the hell we're getting our selves into, anxiously waiting to find out the gender. Matthew was recording with a huge grin on his face, practically jumping out of his seat waiting for me to say the gender. Oh man, when he heard me say, it's a girl...his eyes widened in shock as if he had just seen a ghost. He raised both hands to his mouth, looked at Gabriella, and back at me, not knowing what to say. We continued our night in pure disbelief. Yes, we wanted our boy, but we were excited for Gabriella who was going to gain a little sister she can become best friends and probably worst enemies with. It'll be great, I assured Matthew. He was optimistic and extremely happy about the results, but just like every other parent, it's ideal to want a boy and a girl.



36 Weeks Pregnant

As for my pregnancy experience, honestly, it was a breeze. I was so utterly thankful that both pregnancies went exceptionally well. The nausea was light, hormones were high, and the cravings involved lots of sweets and late-night ice cream scoops. Oh, and I can't forget how uncomfortable the last few weeks were. They included sleepless nights, Braxton Hicks here and there, and how much I wished to walk around in only my underclothing, nothing else! By week 37, I simply just wanted to be done.




Alright, are you ready for the mortifying, outrages, and most painful experience I've ever encountered in my 28 years of existence? Well, let me give it to you straight...I WAS SO TRAUMATIZED that the moment they put Maya on my chest, everything went dark.


Did that really just happen?

But, let's start around 2 pm on November 12th, 2019.


I was at my 39 almost 40 week check-up, sitting on the overbed table, half-naked, expressing to my doctor how ready I was for the baby to come out. I think she could hear the agony in my voice, because she suggested to strip my membrane. What the hell does that mean? I thought to myself. In short, its a way to start labor. After she explained the process and listed the possible repercussions, I told her to go for it. It most certainly was not a spa day experience. That shit hurt! It's like shoving a spatula deep in your uterus and swishing it back and forth.


Moving forward, I didn't believe it would start my contractions, until I felt something happening down there. My mind had been tricked many times with Braxton Hicks, so I continued the evening not thinking about it. Hours later, the contractions got stronger and occurring about every 10 minutes. The tightening and throbbing started to happen, just like it did with my firstborn. Not that I've ever been electrocuted before, but I think contractions could be close to that, only every 5-10 minutes. It was about 11:45 pm by the time I began keeping track of when the contractions occurred. As soon as it hit the every 5-minute mark, I called my doctor's office to ask what to do. Lucky for me, my favorite midwife was on call that night. I cannot express how amazing my midwife is, who was also expecting at the time. She suggested I'd wait until the contractions hit every 3 minutes before heading to the hospital.


After, I updated my parents, and about 15 minutes later, they show up at my house to pick up Gabriella. My mom found me in the bathtub, just chillin'. Okay, I was not just chillin', but I sort of was, only when the contractions weren't hitting. Looking back at it now, I chuckle because my mom kept saying breathe in and out, in and out. She was breathing aloud for me, but what she didn't know was, I WAS BREATHING in and out, only quieter. While lying in the bathtub, the contractions got stronger within minutes. It was like my mom could read my mind because immediately she insisted it was time to go to the hospital. Amid the contractions and the decision making, Matthew was running around getting things ready, and continuously asking me questions, or sparking up a conversation. I wanted to punch him in the face. There is nothing I wanted more than peace and quiet mid contractions.


Finally, we arrived at the hospital around 1:30 am, knowing for sure, our second born was going to make her debut very soon. Limping my way into the delivery triage room, the nurses showed me to the bathroom and ordered me to change. Once I got out of my clothes into a typical, ugly ass hospital gown, I slowly laid back onto the bed. I felt like throwing up! This never happened with my firstborn. I glared at Matthew and whispered, I feel like throwing up. The nurse hurried over and pushed a bag into my hands and out came the Chick fil A milkshake I had earlier that day. Gross, I know! The nurse assured me it was normal. She ran some tests and confirmed a baby was coming.

Now, this is the part that is hard for me to express in words - LABOR. It all felt like it dragged forever, yet it all happened so fast. I walked to my delivery room. It was more so Matthew dragged me to my delivery room. Walking was difficult when your uterus felt like it was going through an earthquake every 2 minutes. Imagine my lower body splitting in half! As soon as I entered the room, I didn’t know whether I had to throw up again or take a shit. I tried both, and nothing came out. After several attempts, I gave up and decided to lay in bed.

By 2:30 am I had two wonderful nurses, a supportive midwife, my mother, and of course, Matthew coaching me through the contractions. It was terrible until it got worse! I walked around, hoping it would help break my water. I sat on the medicine ball rotating my hips, while one of the nurses massaged my lower back, just like you see in those YouTube videos. I remember looking at Matthew in mid contraction, asking him if I looked sexy! If you know me, I tend to lean on humor when under a lot of pressure.


About 45 minutes after finding a comfortable position, which I soon found out there is none, I decided to lay in the bed for a while. The contractions were not strong enough for my water to break, in which at this point, my midwife recommended breaking my water for me. Breaking one's water would speed up the process by enforcing the contractions to get even stronger and prepare you to begin pushing. After a side glance at Matthew’s nod, I replied, let's do it. My midwife sat on the far end of my bed, looked me dead in my eyes, and said something along the lines of, it's about to get so intense, that you will want to give up, but don't, because this is the moment you will start pushing! I didn't register anything she said until I felt a big burst of nastiness flow out of my uterus. It felt hot and gross. But she wasn't kidding! Literally, 5 minutes later, it hit so hard, as if I just got run over by a train. I started breathing faster and my body felt so weak. The contractions hit every second, and I didn't think I could do it. You know in movies when you see women begin pushing, and they start screaming and being all dramatic? I hated that. I swore up and down that would not be me. Well, I wailed. And not only did I cry out, I also spit out every curse word in the books, especially the epic moment when my daughter's head was coming out.


What I found different than the first time, was before I began pushing, my midwife looked at me and said, okay, whenever you feel ready, start pushing. I looked at her frantic and I freaked the fuck out! With an epidural, your legs are so numb that the nurses hold them up, and coach you every step of the way. NO ONE told me when you do it naturally, it's all on your time and baby's time. I stared at Matthew, and my mom, then back at my midwife and started crying out I'm scared, I don't know what to do. As the tears rolled down my cheeks, it did not matter how frightened I was, because my body told me otherwise. My little girl wanted to come out, and all I could do was cry, scream, breathe and push.


I felt my body crashing, and questioned how much longer I could manage. The nurses ended up coaching me due to how terrified I was. In a matter of 15 minutes, her head began to squeeze through. My uterus was ripping apart! I let out a loud cry and her head finally came out. You'd think I'd be done by this point. At least I convinced myself I was finished. I relaxed my body and fell back on the bed, to only come right back up, meeting my midwife's wide eyes yelling Angie, you have to keep pushing! I thought something went wrong. I pushed so hard that my vision went blurry. Everything went black until they put this naked, wet, fragile baby on my chest. I looked left of me and found Matthew, who was tearing up. He looked worried. Evidently, the umbilical cord was wrapped around our daughter's body, yet while her head was coming out, it looked as if it was wrapped around her neck. Which meant, baby girl needed out asap.


While the nurses cleaned me up, and instructed me to push one more time to deliver the placenta, Matthew and I held our daughter for the first time and named her Maya Elise Abregu. And that was the moment our family of three became a family of FOUR.

Maya Elise Abregu






I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to do it naturally? Well, here's the thing, I experienced the epidural with my firstborn, and quite frankly, I didn't fancy the needle, the numbness, and the aftermath. Also, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it without medication! Will I do it again? If you were in that delivery room with me, and asked, I'd say HELL NO! But, if you ask me now, I'd say yes, I'd do it again. I'd go through that excruciating pain all over again, because that is the natural thing to do, and because I CHOSE to do it. No mother should ever be judged for the way they CHOOSE to bring in a baby into this world, so long as these innocent tiny humans make their appearance healthy, strong, and ready to conquer the world.




Your girl,

- Angie










If you haven't yet, read My Meaning #1 and My Meaning #2 to get the full story by clicking the image below.





Stay tuned for more.



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