My Birth Story: Camden

 Camden Makaia Cockroft 

• Born Friday August 12th, 2016 at 10:52 PM
• Wrapped in Aloha at 8 lb 10 oz, 20.5”
• Honolulu, HI at Kapi’olani Hospital for Women & Children

I believe there is so much power in claiming our birth stories, in revisiting all the trauma + triumph.

This is the sacred lullaby I started humming to you and created for you as a baby.

Camden’s Lullaby

Away by the Seashore a Mermaid Does Live,

Her name is Camden Makaia,

I love that dear mermaid with all of her curls,

I can’t wait to see how her life plan unfurls.

Swim swiftly and peacefully into your dreams,

And know I’m beside you no matter how far it seems.

I love you dear Camden, I always will,

I’ll be there forever, forever until,

Until it is time for our Heavenly Home,

Until we meet God on His own throne,

He loves you, He sent you from up above,

To show us His perfect and Unfailing Love.

Your name means through valleys and to the sea,

And that is where you’ll find your Daddy, Cruz + Me,

We love you our Camden our baby girl,

Our princess, our mermaid, our whole wide world.

I sing this lullaby as I have nightly to the jet black hair and brown eyed wonder of a mermaid that is you  I pulled from my body that hot August night. When you started signing along at 18 months of age, I was moved to my core with wonder at the melody coming from your beautiful being.

I dreamed of being a Mama for so long and God gave me you.  I loved taking care of other people’s babies as their cherished Doctor, and knew in my soul it would be such a transcending experience to have a love that came from Daddy + I’s love story.  Love creating love.

We’ve been connected in the most sacred and spiritual way, from your conception to your entrance into this world.  This picture is me holding you on that humid August Honolulu night after you came into the world at 10:52 pm.  I was exhausted, I had willingly physically given everything, and was hemorrhaging a lot of blood in this picture.

I held you and knew we had everything.  Your gorgeous jet black hair + sparkling dark eyes invited me into your world from the moment our eyes first met.  You are beautiful.  Everything about you I adore! 

This year, I begged you not to turn 4, to stay wild and three for a little longer…. But then again I’m enamored with your story and what comes next.  We’ve always figured it out.  Together.  We persevered through so much.  I’ll tell you about that now.  And always.

So I’m writing this for you Camden, and for all women and Mamas to claim their power through their birth story. I’m going back to talk about my Hapai (pregnancy season) with you in Hawai’i during my 3rd year as a Pediatric Residency Physician at Kapi’olani Hospital (where you were born) on O’ahu.

You swam up and into my arms as I delivered you on that warm August night 4 years ago.  Of course you did.  We began our breastfeeding journey right then and there.  I could feel our heavenly harmony in that sacred bond that would unfold over the next 20 months ahead.  You were also such a welcome distraction from the hour plus long suture repair Mommy was undergoing.  I could feel every single stitch and poke, and yet looking at you and having you there on my chest was evidence of everything good and true in our life.  Love.  Overwhelming love.

You innately knew the timing that He had chosen for your entrance into this world.  Mommy had tried running 3 miles straight up and down to the top of Diamond Head (to the Amelia Earhart statue up at the lookout) in my pink Maui wave riders hat from Aunty H and Unko K (maybe a little foreshadowing to our Maui chapter to come), and I had regretted doing it that night because I was SO SORE, it felt like all my bones in my pelvic region had shifted.  They probably had because relaxin, a hormone that helps relax the body and musculature and make women more flexible, was coursing through my body in pregnancy.  We had some spicy Indian food from Cafe Maharani that weekend too.  Thankfully, you stayed put and were unfazed by the spicy foods and also my soreness from my crazy 3 mile spontaneous run up Diamond Head had time to subside. 

 You were a mermaid so comfortably swimming around in Mommy that you continued to bask well past your August 6th due date. I think you would have preferred to grow your hair, long lashes and nails even longer had I not chosen to have our labor induced on August 12th.  I was induced for polyhdramnios (high levels of amniotic fluid) detected on my post dates U/S which can present certain dangers if not monitored.  That and coupled with the fact that we knew you were fully formed and made perfect in every way, we were stoked to meet you.  I remember being in this store (that has since been bulldozed to make way for more housing for UH Manoa), and Daddy and I were picking out a Tibetan singing bowl, of all things.  We still have it.  It rests on its multicolored ring like a beautiful tapestry right out of something you would dream up from Nepal.  The bowl rests on top of the hand sewn cushion with the wooden striker inside.  We still use it for meditation and it sings to all of us now.  Anyway, we were there in the middle of this store we had randomly decided to walk in when Aunty Dr. L called us to discuss the results of the U/S we just had and I remember her saying, “It’s time to have a baby!”  And scheduling us for induction the very next day.

That afternoon, Daddy and I went to the Kamala hotel and ate by the pool and ocean a late afternoon/early dinner.  It was bacon cheeseburgers and French fries, and I still remember I wore my blue tank top and long flowy hippie patterned skirt.   I have the picture somewhere for you.

The Olympics were on, it was August 2016.  We were packed up for the hospital and driving there in the dark early morning with a light drizzle and our hearts full of anticipation. I felt nervous and anxious.  About the way I envisioned my body performing and my desire of having an unmediated birth to welcome you.  I’m a firm believer that every birth and the way it progresses is as unique as the Mama and baby(ies) it is supporting, and there is no one size fits all birth plan or approach.  I just knew this is what I desired and envisioned. For me.  For you.  For us.

You were my first baby, my first pregnancy, and my first experience with all of this.  I think women are taught to fear the pain associated with childbirth.  I innately knew this was a myth, that harnessing my energy throughout childbirth was part of my superpower and birthright as a woman, and that this felt like the most true and beautiful way to honor the path to meet you.

We parked the car in the Physicians parking with Mommy’s pass just like I did on a normal workday, and walked across the hospital campus to the L&D floor. I used my badge to come in.  I declined the wheelchair and my waddle was strong with you by that time, but I’d been working and waddling every day in that hospital throughout your time of growth.  So many people were surprised to see us every day, that we were still a Hapai team hanging in there with you still growing.

The nurses did the initial vitals on me and we waited for a while.  Then they told us the L&D unit was completely slammed, there were no rooms to admit me and in fact they actually had some mothers having vaginal births in the ORs and even being admitted to the Pediatric floor- where Mommy works.  Since I wasn’t in active labor or an emergency, would I mind coming back?

This was such a shock, because I had been mentally preparing now to come in and be admitted to have you.  Like a huge roller coaster of emotions preparing for the biggest day of your life and then mentally rearranging to wait a little longer. Being a fellow human, soon to be Mama and Doctor, of course I understood triaging other higher needs patients first.  So we agreed and started to walk back to the car.  We were quickly met by some of the hospital administration- Unko Nurse J and Aunty Administrator M who offered to hold our bags/belongings in their offices until we got the call to come in later.  We appreciated that so much.

So, we’re going back home to hang out with Kai Kai and watch more Olympics.  But rewind even from there.  So at this point, Mommy is 40+6/7 which means 40 weeks and 6 days pregnant. I had also been monitored and checked weekly and was 5 cm dilated and 90% effaced.  That means that for the past few weeks, we had been walking around the hospital not in active labor but Mommy’s cervix had dilated from 0 cm to 5 cm (whoooaaaa we’re halfway there…. You may not get this musical reference but maybe YouTube or google Bon Jovi for that song reference one day…. Daddy and I used to sing it at the top of our lungs in college hahahaha), and also your cervix softens to 100% in preparation for birth.  So basically Mommy was super prepared and “favorable” as Aunty Dr. L who delivered you and took impeccable care of us throughout my Hapai season said.  That’s one of the reasons we were so comfortable waiting for my labor to come on naturally.  But it didn’t come before we chose to induce.  And that’s okay. It’s our story.

I can’t even remember what sports we watched that day because I was still such a mixture of anxious excited and so preoccupied with my thoughts on you and returning to the hospital later.  I had been up super early that morning, and we were at home waiting for a call to return when a bed opened up for us.  I remember it being hard to eat anything and just knowing we would be meeting YOU so soon was such expansive energy to hold.

I had called in to work the afternoon before and let the Radiology department (where I was working that week) and my Peds Residency know that I was being induced the following day.  It felt so weird, and so wonderful not to be going into work.  I could sense the shift and the magnificence coming.  I was so magnetically drawn to this new chapter.  To you.  And the suspense of knowing that you were exactly who you were destined to be and we would soon find out and start memorizing every detail of you.

Your Pediatrician for birth and after too was all lined up.  One of Mommy’s very best soulmate friends.  She is a gem on this earth.  Aunty Dr. J.  I was so excited for you to get to meet her.

I had my favorite pot ‘o aloha and pineapple of my eye swaddles picked out from Cocomoon (this super cute local brand), and also these cute little crochet soccer cleats for you to wear.  We had the UppaBaby mesa car seat and Daddy had learned how to expertly install it and it was waiting for you in our Ford Escape car we had for the first 3 years we lived on O’ahu.  We had assembled your crib and you had your own oasis space in our little yellow Hawaiian bungalow.

This Hale though Camden that you would live in for your first 2 1/2 years of life- an old 1930s plantation style home of my dreams tucked right at the base of Diamond head on Leahi Ave was sandwiched between parks on 2 sides and the community garden on the other.  I had manifested that Hale to come into our life and it did.  We walked across Queen Kapi’olani Park almost nightly to see the sunsets and to go swimming at Kaimana Beach.  You had stroller rides as a newborn to the beach, learned to swim at this beach and would have many wobbly walks which turned into toddler walks and then flat out sprints ha!

We had your big husky FUR brother Kaileo (“Kai Kai”) all ready and excited to meet you.  Friends and ohana had thrown us a baby shower for you in Winter Park/Orlando, FL where Mommy is from and in Hawai’i.  Daddy + I knew we had the love in our life to bestow upon you and nurture you, learn from you, grow with you.

And so the call came.  We got back in the car after kissing Kai Kai.  Tears filled my eyes as I was overwhelmed with emotion knowing the next time I walked through that front door would be with a baby.  We would be human parents (have to give your big bruddah Kai Kai credit as our FURst baby haha).

 Residency was so very taxing on me physically, emotionally, spiritually.  I showed up everyday and Doctored those babies and patients and their ohanas with everything I had.  It asked so much of me.  And willingly I gave it.  I was compelled and connected to serving and giving of myself in this way I was called.

I was so excited to give myself over to this endeavor so vulnerably- the one where I get to be a Mama.  And where Daddy + I’s love would grow to a new dimension as parents. 

I had always been a “yes” person, what most would call a “people pleaser” growing up.  I often played this role and knew how to do it well in order to validate others.  But it can be a lonely and isolating role also not validating myself.  I knew how to push my body to the brink physically and had done so throughout my life and college days passing fitness tests as a DI soccer player at the University of Miami, all the long nights of studying in med school on my knees until my circulation cut off, and then the 28 hour sleepless shifts willing myself through them: triple checking medication doses, laser focusing through delicate procedures like spinal taps on tiny babies and repairing complicated lacerations in young wiggling children at all hours of the night and day.  So, I was pretty confident that this whole newborn sleepless phase wouldn’t phase me, ha.

I noticed a rising swell of power within me.  Certainly, I had always been a focused, powerful, creative individual.  I love fiercely, I’m intensely loyal, if I say I will do something I see it though.  Integrity is woven into who I am.  I learned to swerve from my path of pleasing people in order to honor the path I desired for you, me and Daddy.  With all of the noise and chaos and demands on me at the time of my pregnancy and leading up to your birth, I knew I wanted an oasis.  A pocket of space and time to be suspended with you and Daddy and Kai Kai in. So, I willingly disappointed some who wanted to be present at your birth and in around us in the immediate aftermath.  I calmly and confidently maintained the boundaries I knew aligned with my core values of how I wanted to bring you into this world.

My darling, living life boldly, authentically, and with confident vulnerability—>  learning to disappoint others but not to disappoint yourself took me many many moons.  But I arrived there in the moons leading up to the one that would lead me to you that hot August night.  And I’m forever grateful for the momentum you provided in my life to get there.  I allowed others reactions and emotions to be their own and reflect upon them.  I learned to place protective energy over myself and to speak love and life over myself so that I could be the best version of me, and also meet you with the energy to Mother in a way that glorified the gift that you are.

The non confrontational version of Anik began melting away quickly during my pregnancy. I was the first Resident to become pregnant in many years and there was no policy in place.  There is no room for “maternity” leave in our schedule which says you must work 33 of 36 months of Residency, to the date, no exceptions.  So I was forced to use all of my 2 weeks of vacation and 1 week of “sick days” for “maternity leave” although I hesitate to even give it that distinction of being called that.  I presented research of other mainland programs that were offering New Parent electives to female and male Residents in order to offer our program here in Hawai’i more embracing options in terms of family planning.  I mean is it shocking that a Pediatrician, a PEDIATRICIAN of child bearing age would want to become a Mother?!? I think it’s comical now.  I did ultimately choose to be with you for 11 weeks and it was some of the best 11 weeks of my life.  I graduated “late” from Residency making up every hour of every shift I postponed, and I would do it again without hesitation for those early moments I held you and held space for myself to heal and come into my rebirth as a Mama.

Also, the whole scenario reminded me of being on a sports team and the mounting guilt about how much burden the rest of the team (and in this case my co-Residents) would have to bear when I was out.  We had a small class size of 8 residents (and we had 2 who had transferred out for personal reasons in the first 2 years) leaving my class with 6 Residents).

So, Mommy had “front loaded” all of her schedule overnight calls, 24 I mean 28 (they’re called 24 hour shifts, but you could have a flex “4 hours” to finish up other work for continuity of care) so they always were 28 hour shifts ha, and all of my inpatient taxing rotations prior to having you.  We triaged many patients, transferred the most critical to the ICU to stabilize them, celebrated with patients + their ohanas as they got better and could be discharged home, and mourned alongside a few who had given heaven its newest angel.  We did all of this together.  You and me.

I carried you with me through so much: you helped me welcome many new miracles into the world as you grew, you participated in multiple code blues, 80+ hour workweeks on repeat.  I worried about you, and imagined making myself strong to protect you, to shield you. There was one time I came out of a C-section after catching and stabilizing a new baby and transferring them to the NICU, and then went to the bathroom and noticed bright red blood.  The baby I was paged to help deliver was the same gestation as you at the time, 27ish weeks.  I was so scared that I had worked too hard and asked too much of my body and you, I was crippled with fear and shaking calling your Daddy from that hospital hallway.  I composed myself so no patients would see and checked into OB-GYN a few floors up at the hospital.  Stay put my little one, just keep swimming and growing I prayed.  And you did.  True to your resilient mermaid form, you were thriving in there, and were calm and composed even through the labor & delivery process to welcome you here.  

I’ll forever treasure the bond that I’ve felt with you cradling the being you were becoming all those years ago. I intuitively knew I was pregnant on an ER shift, spending a month working at Arnold Palmer Hospital for Women + Children in Orlando, Florida.  This is actually the hospital system where Mommy was born!  I dreamed of doing Residency at this hospital and then changed the dream to Pediatric Emergency Medicine Fellowship here, both dreams I navigated with meticulous detail and intention, putting in all the long hours and effort to realize.  Both times, I swerved to what I could sense in the compass of my soul was aligned with our ohana and growing life we were and continue to create together here in Hawai’i. Your Daddy is a surfer of all waves of life, and most definitely the waves of the islands call him.  And they call you too.  So, you were created on O’ahu and born on O’ahu.  You surfed with me during pregnancy.  We actually announced our pregnancy paddling out together at a surf break we loved looking back at Diamond Head.  You lived on O’ahu for 2.5 years before moving to Maui where you’re now a Maui mermaid.

Back in Florida where we were for a month during the earliest part of my pregnancy, I was giddily excited noting the changes I perceived in my body.  I chose to wait to take a test with Daddy when we were back home in Hawai’i, dreamed of you for 9 months and gasped in superpower Mama strength when you came up toward my heart ♥️ in physical form on August 12th, 2016.  I can also remember my LMP (Last menstrual period which you get asked about when you’re pregnant) because it was Halloween and for some reason I always seemed to work in the ER on Halloween (it’s a spooky place that time of year) even as a Medical Student. 

Well there on October 31, 2015 I was preparing to do a critical spinal tap of a very ill few days old baby and I can remember my period starting.  I felt it.  No time to do anything about it because I was sterile and scrubbed for the spinal tap.  Which I got on the first try and was so grateful to not have to poke this sweet baby any additional times, get the test completed so IV antibiotics could be started, and send the patient up to the ICU.  We like to get samples before antibiotics so they don’t interfere with our culture results and trying to grow out microorganisms and  to determine the most appropriate antibiotic course, to get all medical on you.  Anyway, so that was most definitely the first day of my LMP. 

I had a few U/S (ultrasounds).  Including the one at around 8 weeks-ish when you looked like a little jelly bean and Aunty Dr. L was able to confirm your presence in my uterus and a viable pregnancy.  That was such a spectacular day.

When Daddy + I went on our Babymoon during the few days I had away during Residency in February 2016 (and what would be my last “vacation” until February 2018), we went to Norway + Sweden because #zikavirus was a thing at that time.  I had seen the potential impact Zika Virus could have on the growing/developing brain, and it was devastatingly impressive.  

We had the most glorious time exploring fjords and all the expansive beauty of Sweden and Norway.  We went snowmobiling across vast frozen tundras under the stars in the dark of the night looking for the Northern lights.  We went to the ice palace hotel in Lapland, Sweden which they carve every year intricate ice sculptures, furniture and even an entire hotel out of the ice.  It is exquisite.  We went to play with the huskies and get to drive a team of them on the sled.  It was too dangerous they said for a pregnant woman, so I hung back and took care of the puppies and learned about all the chores that go into caring for the dogs.  Daddy had his day out with the dogs.  Their frenzied excitement prior to taking off and sledding across the snow is something to behold.  I remember becoming super itchy in Norway, and looking down and diagnosing myself with PUPP or Pruritic urticarial papules and plaques of pregnancy.  It’s a benign but crazy itchy rash probably caused by the stretching of the skin to accommodate the growing uterus and fetus (you!) and maybe also the cold temperatures we were in made me more dry and itchy.  I have always had a fascination with the Nordic cultures, and I absolutely was in my element there wandering around and exploring.  The culture and food and people and nature - it’s all so much splendor for the soul.  I’m stoked to go back there one day with you.  I loved the lingonberry jam on freshly baked bread and navigating the streets of the Gamla Stan (where we got you this little wooden moose that was your first baby gift) of the old original streets of Stockholm, and the smaller Norwegian towns that linger far out onto the fingers of the fjords.  

We had your U/S all lined up to find out the gender.  Which by the way, in my humble opinion since sex is based on anatomy, and gender is a societal construct, we should technically be calling these U/S and/or parties sex-reveal parties in place of gender-reveal parties. But I guess that’s not as Pinterest-worthy for most!

Anyway, we were on a train in rural Norway.  Daddy looked me with one of his glimmers and flickers of a brilliant idea in his eyes that I could see forming and said with so much confidence, “God gave us this baby to raise, do we need to find out the gender?”  And I sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, looking out the window at the snowy rural Norwegian countryside passing by as we moved further into the Nordic winter wonderland, and a smile spread across my face until I could contain it no longer.

“No”, I answered.  “We don’t need to find out.  This baby is well on her or his way to being exactly who they were destined to be by our Creator and for us to shepherd through this life.”  And so we waited.  We told all the ultrasonographers and our OB that we chose to wait for you.  To prepare our minds and hearts and souls for you.  All the nurses at work had guesses and most told me I was having a boy because of the way I was carrying.  I did have a few dreams, and by my Mamatuition it was always a girl.  One dream in particular, I had preterm labor (meaning I went into labor with you early) while shopping at Nordstroms at the Ala Moana mall a few miles from the hospital in Honolulu.  For some reason in this dream, I couldn’t get to the hospital and I gave birth to you in the bathroom at Nordstroms. Hahaha.  So crazy.  But I did it.  We did it.  And you were perfect.  But then, the dream ended on a humorous note because Daddy was insistent on a name…. A name that was the same as one of my patients I was at the time deeply entrenched in the care of in the Pediatric ICU.  It’s so funny how those things weave themselves into the elements of your dreams.

I remember round ligament pains sitting on the stools pre-charting and preparing to go round on all my little patients in the early morning dark hours before the sun was up in the PICU.  I would feel you move and cherished that I got to carry you with me each day and could already sense my heartbreak that one day I would have to come back to the hospital to work without you.  I wasn’t sure how I would do that, but I was sure I would make you proud and show you how strong and loyal, brave and true women are, and especially this woman your Mommy.  Long after the scrub tops no longer fit and I gave way to stretchy shirts to accommodate my growing (mermaid!) bump, I continued to work loooongg shifts and show up for you, show up for the patients we took care of.

You did so many things during your pregnancy. You also traveled to Scotland so Mommy could present her research at an International Pediatric Simulation conference.  Super duper cool since your name is also Scottish!  I conducted long-term research on training medical students and junior residents in the Pediatric Emergency Department on the technique of lumbar punctures (spinal taps) in neonates + infants (small babies).  So you came and presented that research when you were about 28 weeks along to other Physicians and healthcare professionals from around the world.

You worked in the Emergency Room, NICU, PICU, general Pediatric Ward, did hundreds of well child checks in my clinic with my regular patients, did Radiology, Endocrinology, Sports Medicine months and so much more.  You surfed, you traveled, you kicked and hiccuped and got to know your Godparents and all the chosen ohana around you. You swam a lot. So much.  Especially in those hot summer months whenever Mommy could make it to the beach with Daddy when I wasn’t working at the hospital. And then it was time.  That August.  The Olympics were happening. You were about to become my main event.

And I was actually already remorseful down the home stretch that I wouldn’t be “bringing you with me to work” everyday.  Like I just mentioned above.  It was weighing on me so heavily before you were even here. The night before I had to go back to work, I sat at the piano and played you “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid while you did tummy time on a colorful purple sea flower swaddle next to me.  I can vividly remember the hot tears silently falling down my cheeks.  The next morning I woke up at 03:30 before I had to leave just to watch you sleep and hold you in your swaddle, cuddle you a little longer.  Linger a little longer.  

That somehow my heart would have to be broken everyday to leave you so I could also go and heal others and follow this path of service I had a conviction to lead as a Physician.  I would miss your first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentines Day, and so many other full holidays. But we always celebrated them on our own time. I feared missing any of your milestones, but then decided they didn’t happen until I first saw them, at least not for me!  Your Daddy and your amazing first Nanny Emi would send me pictures and videos that captivated me, and I would tune in and sometimes get to watch you on video as a treat when I had some spare moments pumping and typing notes on patients.

There are so many misseds, so many sacrifices along the way to Doctordom.  You get there because you know it is your calling, not because you can or it is the next logical step or you have the intellectual prowess.  Dreams are meant to be not only chased, but also surrendered to.  In the stillness of your soul.  In the sacred quiet that is there in your inner Wisdom.  I’m so excited to have a front row seat to the Divine Downloads of your life.

So when we sing 5 Little Monkeys and I change the words to Mommy IS the Doctor instead of Mommy Called the Doctor, I mean it, I claim it because girls—> women—> Mommy’s can do anything, ANYTHING.  And I’ll show you everyday for the rest of forever what that looks like.  I won’t talk about it much. I’ll show you.  So we can keep getting out the stethoscopes and talk all the appropriate anatomical terms for the body. 

Know that your story has always been one that I’ve celebrated.  I pivoted so much as a human being with the purpose infused into my body of growing you, the honor of knowing you before anyone else would, the privilege of placing you on my chest with my own arms reaching down for you.  And I’ll reach out for you still, forever.  In all ways.  Always.

So we drove back to the hospital and parked in the reserved Physician parking again and walked down the hospital halls I had so many thousands of times before. But this time I was going to be the patient.  It was so hard to comprehend that.  I had a birth plan.  Actually, it was more like a pep talk/letter of gratitude to the medical team who would be caring for us.

 We were admitted. Around 1ish in the afternoon.  I still remember that room, 306 on the L&D floor overlooking H1.  I had been paged to that very same room plenty of times, only I stood in a sterile gown with gloves on preparing the warming blankets, bulb syringe, the oxygen, the newborn baby hat, the radian warmer/open air crib in the corner of the room.  I would go through my mental checklist after greeting the mother and other family members present in the room.  I would be there to examine the newborn baby, take vitals, provide resuscitation if required, and do the APGAR scores. This time, I was the Mother in the hospital room.  I glanced over at the newborn crib/warmer in the corner.  Waiting.  Waiting for you.  It was surreal in the most splendid way.

Daddy had brought the candles I wanted from home (not real candles but they flickered and were different colors and I loved them), had a Zen like music mix and portable Bose speaker, and even blew up our medicine ball for me to bounce on.  He was wearing his favorite blue Lululemon tee shirt and lululemon shorts.  And comfy slippahs.

I was there in my hospital gown.  They couldn’t get my IV started so the IV team came and put two in.  Aunty Dr. L came and sat on the windowsill and talked story with us for a while.  We talked about basketball and the Olympics.  We talked about what was to come with you.  We thanked her for caring for us so well, and being in her genius zone with us over the past 9 months. OB-GYNS are phenomenal humans and wear so many hats.  I have seen them perform heroic feats in the delivery room.  They are part surgeon, trauma physician, women’s wellness and health advocates, and know so much about our complex and intricate female anatomy.  

She broke your water/our water.  That perfect mermaid bath that had sustained you for all those months.  This 40+6/7 week spa appointment had come to an end.  I felt the gush and rush of A LOT of amniotic fluid all over.  I was sitting and bouncing comfortably on the medicine ball.  It was so much.  Like clean up in aisle Camden so much. Remember, we had polyhydramnios which is extra amniotic fluid.  So you had quite the warm mermaid bath going on in there.

Unko A came by with a sandwich for Daddy that had pickles and I remember telling Daddy to please go eat it in the hallway.  I was still sitting there in the zone and not eating anything because we were in the waiting period.  I chose/requested not to be induced with pitocin which is a synthetically derived hormone to mimic the “love hormone” oxytocin women naturally make in contractions and labor.  So that’s why initially Aunty Dr. L used the aminohook to perform AROM (artificial rupture of membranes) aka break Mommy’s amniotic fluid.  This, in addition to the membrane sweep the day prior she did in the office (which had no effect on us whatsoever hahaha), were intended to help induce labor.  Once the amniotic fluid sac or “water has been broken” you have about 24 hours to deliver a baby before the concern for infection sets in.  So I knew we were on the clock, and I also intuitively knew that I was in a Zen like place with you.  I knew we would come into harmony together and you would descend to us and I would ascend to a place of being in symphony with the pain that was the path toward you.

It was 2 and then 3 o’ clock and nothing much changed.  I watched your heartbeat, mesmerized matching up to mine on the monitors.  I was mobile and moving about the room.

Wham!  From about 4:00 or 4:30-10:00 the contractions picked up increasingly steadily.  I breathed through them all.  Daddy did sacral massage to my low back.  I started on the medicine ball and then transitioned to the hospital bed which they made into a little step where Daddy could sit one row up and then I could sit below and continue laboring.  We listened to the “Peanut Butter Bumble Bee Mix” he had made.  I had him turn off the fluorescent hospital lights because I never cared much for artificial lighting.  We had a few visitors in the early hours of your labor- a medical student I knew that was on OB rotation, more hospital administration wondering what they could bring, a few of my beloved co Residents and your Dr. Auntys. I think.  I’m not sure I even remember.  But it was mostly just you, me and Daddy.  Just the way I dreamed it.

 At first I was talking a lot between contractions to Daddy.  And then for a while I went into a deep place where my eyes were closed and I was focusing every ounce of energy and spiritual strength upon you.  Daddy was there.  I could feel him and sense his presence.  He knew I was in my genius zone too.

We knew we would name you Camden.  I loved the name Camden- a nod to my Scottish/Gaelic heritage meaning “winding valley”.  Also, when Daddy and I had reunited after a brief few months apart (we first got together at 19 years old and dated for 8 years before getting married at 27, and then were married for 6 years before having you!) that God used us to grow ourselves individually so we could be the best together, he was living at a place in Tampa called Camden Preserve.  I dreamed of preserving that name for our baby one day.  Also, Grandy (your maternal great grandmother) and Gigi’s (your maternal grandmother) side of the family is from Baltimore, MD and Daddy (although super humble and won’t talk about it much) was an All American D1 Left Handed Pitcher at the University of Miami, won several College World Series, played minor league baseball and was on the Major League Roster for the San Diego Padres during Spring Training- so Camden Yards as the baseball stadium for the Orioles felt like an appropriate nod.  We felt Camden would work for a girl or a boy.

And then there is your middle name.  We had settled on Makaia for a girl or Makaio for a boy.  Makai in Hawaiian means toward the ocean. We felt it was feminine and flowing to add an a.

I remember getting to a point where the contractions were one right on top of the other and it was increasingly difficult to breathe and recover between them, because there was no break or even a split second to compose myself.  I knew that represented the path to you.  That my body was contracting my uterus and that we were working in a beautiful harmony to be reunited in a new and transforming way.

Daddy + I had a word “uluwatu” which is this beautiful temple complex we will take you to one day in Bali where we took our honeymoon. We watched the breathtaking and intricate Kecak fire dance on the Uluwatu cliffs overlooking the sea- a Balinese cultural dance of gratitude and blessings and  kindness.  It’s a dance that is so entrancing honoring the Hindu epic of Ramayana.  This word was my possible indication that I would consider an epidural.  I hadn’t really thought of it, but at this point it flickered across my mind.  I was attuned to flowing and honoring what felt true and beautiful for me, for you, and to the labor and delivery process.  I knew and trusted that my body was made to deliver this perfect human and to learn from the wisdom contained in the contractions.

We had gone to the prenatal birthing classes in the hospital.  Even though I knew a lot of it, I was a first time parent and wanted to experience all the things with Daddy.  So we had gone to all the classes.  From bathing and caring for a newborn to what happens during pregnancy to the hospital tours of the L&D and postpartum unit.  I remember racing to finish up my work in the NICU- seeing all my teeny baby patients and tucking them into their isolettes/incubators to meet Daddy in the hospital auditorium for class.  How we took my food badge and quickly raided the cafeteria for what left overs were available and went to class, most weeks.  There was a demonstration the teacher did where expectant parents that felt they would plan for an epidural to stand on this side of the stage and those who felt they wanted an unmedicated birth to stand on the opposite side of the stage.  For those who were unsure or undecided to stand somewhere in the middle.  I walked over in my hospital scrubs to the unmedicated side, the lone Mama and Daddy over there.  It was an unwavering stance I had all throughout our Hapai season with you and up and through your birth.

So Uluwatu Temple was really starting to come forward in my mind.  This was INTENSE.  I asked the nurse, S if she could check me.  Meaning my cervix to see how dilated I was.  Initially, the team hesitated since I had my water broken/amniotic fluid sac ruptured with the aminohook and it can theoretically pose an infection risk each time a gloved hand checks no matter how sterile/sanitary you try to be.  I firmly insisted that they check.  They did and I remember her telling me gleefully that I was 10 cm. 

I asked to the air around me/them would the pain change, and I innately knew it would.  We were fully dilated and now the time was really drawing near when I could draw you in close and feel you in my arms for the first time.  I had dilated from 5 to 10 cm in about 8 hours.  I think that’s amazing for a first time labor!  It had been fast and furious though and we had been on all those undulations of increasingly strong and faithful contractions together.  The maternal fetal monitor showed our contractions and heart rhythm tracings dancing along in harmony, just the same way our hearts still dance together.

It was 10ish pm.  Dr. L was coming in the room.  On a Friday night.  Again, God Bless OB-GYNs!  It was time to push.  The biggest smile is spreading across my face and tears are streaming down my cheeks as I type this legend to you my dearest darling daughter.  You are so daring.  You are so determined.  I was so daring.  I was so determined.

These moments are so sacred. Daddy stood on the left side of the bed and Aunty Nurse S on the right side, with Dr. La at the foot of the bed.  There was also Aunty Nurse J who was a serendipitous gift to my labor process.  She was like a spiritual soul sister medical team doula.  Along with Daddy Doula.  He was so strong and consistent for me/us too.

 I pushed with ferocious Mama beast-like otherworldly primal force.  It is sincerely badass.  Your Mom is a BadAss.  I’m claiming it.  I pushed.  I would relax and then in concert with the mounting contraction I would push and you would descend a little further.  Aunty Dr. L warned me about the impending “Ring of Fire” and as your head moved through the vaginal opening and the nerves in the area… whhhheeewwwww we burned!

I knew it was one more step closer to meeting you.  I pushed and double, tripled down my efforts within the same contraction. I was in my element.  I was suspended in time and the pain guided me.  It was excruciating.  It was compelling.  Every fiber in me was sure that pushing was my sole purpose in life at that moment.  It was everything I needed as an instrument to lead me to you.  With the final push, Aunty Dr. L said, “Reach down and grab your baby!”

 I reached down with the same two arms that type this to you now.  I pulled you out of where you had grown and descended and up onto my chest.  Those moments will always elude the words to describe the magic I felt and that we created together as Mother and Daughter.  I transcended into even more of who I was ultimately meant to be as a human, a Woman, A Mama when you willingly placed all of your trust in me that day.

 It took a hot minute, to move aside your umbilical cord and the little newborn hat that had been flung onto my abdomen, and Aunty Dr. L said, “What do we have Daddy?”  And I felt so at peace because you were here on me.  It had always been you.  Whomever/Whoever you were meant to be.  Of course it was you. And then Daddy said words that would change me forever, “It’s a Girl!”

 I wept with the little bit of energy I had.  And then shortly after we took this picture together.  I remember Aunty Dr. L smiling at you, at us, delivering your placenta, and giving Daddy the scissors to cut your umbilical cord.  Mommy was being stitched up for the extensive 3rd degree tearing I sustained- these kind can run all the way from the perineum (the space between your vagina and your anus) to the anus.  Plus, I had a sulcal or deep interior vaginal tear!  I had a skyrocketing heart rate and my blood pressures were concerning because I was losing a lot of blood.  I could feel all of these physiological changes, but knew Aunty Dr.L and Unko Dr. V were in their genius zone trying to repair my tears to the best of their availability.  Eventually, the stitches wouldn’t stay in my tissue anymore because it was so swollen and macerated that the stitches just kept falling out.  So they packed me with surgical gauze. I’m so grateful for all the care and compassion, skill and surgical prowess they displayed that day.  Helping heal my body despite the trauma it had endured and giving it a chance to demonstrate its innate healing powers and resiliency.  I would bleed for you every single day.  And my cup runneth over revisiting all of these small and big moments.  And the trauma that led to the triumph of you.

 Birth is a trauma. 100%.  A miraculous trauma.  For the Mama.  For the baby.  For the Daddy or partner who is brave enough to witness the miracle of a woman in her power as the right hand of God bringing a miracle into existence.  I know your Daddy saw me in a new light from that day forward.  He always knew I was strong.  He saw me sprint across the soccer fields of Miami, study until the wee hours of the night/morning in medical school, and drive 100 miles each day to med school.  He ran next to me in 3 marathons before we “retired” after the NYC marathon in the Big Apple.  He saw me come home and would hold me when I would occasionally awaken at night to process a code or heavy scenario I had been privileged to Doctor and witness at work.  He knew.  But this day in this way, this dimension was New.  Now he knew the New.  The newness of you.  the newness of me and who I was becoming.

 Birth Trauma for babies is Divinely orchestrated.  You were stressed in your descent down the vaginal canal and in being pushed out of my body.  You cried and your lungs cleared residual amniotic fluid, and with your first breaths you changed the circulation of your cardiopulmonary circulation which had sustained you in utero to one that is compatible with extrauterine life.  That stress is Divine.  It is a complex, carefully composed physiologic symphony designed to transition you in the way of LIFE.

 Mommy has been to many deliveries (I don’t get called to the ones like ours which went extremely well for you just like I prayed) for babies who didn’t get the memo and think they’re still basking in spa Mommy like sometimes in C-sections and Mommy has to help remind them to breathe and learn to be on the outside.  They typically come around, they are brilliant little souls and we have lots of ways to help them.  That’s one of Mommy’s favorite things about being a Pediatrician: the simultaneous vulnerability and yet incredible resiliency pediatric patients possess.  My intention at deliveries is to hold space for a baby’s brilliance, show them aloha and provide just the right amount of stress to get their little bodies and brains to harmonize and breathe on their own.

 So the trauma of birth for baby and Mama is a triumph.  It is good.  It is beautiful.  It is true.  And to claim the trauma- the pain, the struggle, the moments of weakness, and ultimately the belief in your body, in your magnificence, in the triumph is a vital sign of ultimate importance.  The triumph cannot be realized without the trauma.

 And so it was.  I became a Mama.  We became parents.  Watching Daddy hold you swaddled at my bedside was the most moving site for me.  It’s forever seared upon my brain.  I love that memory and revisit it often.

 We moved upstairs to a teeny tiny postpartum room (no special treatment hahaha that’s okay) close to the elevators on the side closer to the nursery.  They brought me a random dinner because by now it was like 1 AM and I scarfed it down after not eating for probably 15 hours or so. Something tells me there was gravy involved (So much yuck but I didn’t care), and Daddy went with you to the nursery for your first bath.

I was there.  Alone.  It was so odd not to feel you moving in me.  And yet I was a Mother now.  Everything had changed.  I felt so complete.  I also felt utterly broken.  Like was painfully aware that even the smallest movements provided evidence and credibility to the extreme tearing and traumatic triumph my body had just endured.

Despite my eternal sunshine, Queen of Aloha, sense of optimism self, I knew medically and as a Physician there was something very wrong.  At first I tried to ignore it.  I forced myself to drink liters of water thinking I might be dehydrated. I willed away any issues occurring.  But the numbers don’t lie.  I know this.  I spend hours analyzing numbers and trends in my patients.  I have a system for checking each one and I can ascertain how even a blip to some may be the impending sign of something extremely important to monitor, or suggestive of clinical decline.

So even after you were safely back at my side looking all mermaid gorgeous post-bath and swaddled like a little musubi princess (musubis are a popular Hawaiian snack food, often with Spam in them and we always joke the little babies in the newborn nursery swaddled all perfectly snug look like little musubis) like only the nurses can do (sorry for all the swaddling I messed up coming and examining the babies to all my dear nurses hahaha), and Daddy was fast asleep in the bedside chair, I was worried.  With increasing concern, I knew I couldn’t even get up to go to the bathroom if I tried.  I was short of breath just sitting or lying there.  My chest was tight.  My heart rate was higher than yours at 180 bpm (beats per minute), as a newborn. Your little heart rate between 120-180 bpm is completely normal and beautiful.  Mommy’s should be around 50-90 bpm.  I took orthostatic vitals (because why wouldn’t I as a Doctor Mommy) on myself which is your BP and HR when you’re standing, sitting and/or lying down to compare.  The results were pretty obvious.  And since I had peed about a liter with all of the fluids I had taken in, I knew and feared I was continuing to lose a massive amount of blood.  A dangerous amount.

 Please God, let me enjoy these moments.  I didn’t want anything to take me away from you.  Aunty Dr. L was so brilliantly composed (because also she’s a total BA and has done this thousands upon thousands of times), and maintained her clinical composure with the plan of my care.  Which is why she did her best work and a beautiful repair job given the extensive tearing, and then surgically packed me.  I prayed I wouldn’t need exploratory surgery, that my uterus could stay intact for future pregnancies. Because even though there had been excruciating pain and I was torn from V to A, I also knew that this bliss and this purpose was made for me.

They had checked my uterus and massaged it after I delivered you.  They thought it felt okay.  PPH or post partum hemorrhage is a rare complication after childbirth, but is serious.  It can be due to a loss in tone of the uterine muscles or from a bleeding disorder or when the placenta doesn’t fully come out.  Drops in blood pressure (because there is not enough blood volume circulating around your body) and a stressed and increased heart rate as the heart furiously works to keep pace are some signs.  I had all of these physiological signs.  And the shortness of breath and chest tightness that comes from sudden and severe anemia.  Rarely, treatment for PPH can require blood transfusions or even exploratory or hysterectomy as life saving interventions.

Nurse Diana who I had worked with and collaborated on with so many babies before downstairs in the NICU was already worried.  She serendipitously, PTL (Praise the Lord!) happened to be floating on L&D that night and assigned to me. Serendipity!  My favorite word.  Well that and Hallelujah!

She had been checking me personally instead of the tech and was analyzing my vital signs and had been calling the OB team.  They insisted on a blood draw to check my H/H.  Hemoglobin and Hematocrit.  I knew they were right to order it.  We needed to know.  A part of me didn’t want to know.

 A normal H/H is a Hemoglobin of 12-15 and Hemocrit of about 35-45%.  I can’t recall exact numbers, but my Hemoglobin (which carries the oxygen in your blood) and is why it’s hard to breathe and you become SOB or short of breath with low hemoglobin levels was around 6.  Post partum hemorrhage is a serious condition that is the cause of death in a lot of developed countries.  I have so much massive compassion for my own experience, advocating for myself and being a Physician with a healthcare team who knew me around me. They took impeccable care of me, but they take and I have been witness to the impeccable care they give to every Mama placed in their care. And for going through this harrowing experience as a new Mama, it helps me cultivate additional compassion for my patients and other Mamas too.

So I started the first of 4 blood transfusions to get my hemoglobin up to 8 which is the level I went home with.  My blood levels of hemoglobin really weren’t rising very quickly even after transfusions, which was evidence of continued bleeding.  I took our newborn photos with Aunty A while hooked up to blood transfusions.  It would take me weeks to feel myself again, to be able to walk from the couch to the toilet without holding onto the wall or catch my breath completely.  But then again, I’d never felt more vigorous, purposeful and alive.  We were together.  Mommy and Daughter.  Daddy + I were parents.  So I called upon and summoned the Mama strength that always dwelled in me.

And then we built back up from there.  I remember being so excited to finally have the stamina tot go for a walk in those early days and to feel the  stitches and tearing that were so painful get better little by little.  Also, I definitely didn’t know my first poop would be so traumatic. I tore stitches and there were many tears.  I think the postpartum hormones normally cause some constipation and coupled with the blood transfusions and taking Iron to treat my anemia all contributed.  I sat there and tried tot visualize and Daddy was the most patient poop doula, but that first poop was BRUTAL.  But it all paled.  It all paled in comparison to you and this purpose I had been given.  So the trauma was part of my triumph and it is written into the fabric of who I am.   

Birth is beautiful.  It is meant to be empowering.  It is designed and written into your DNA as a woman.  You will know this one day. If you choose to know it.  Your body and your decisions.  It is a fiercely private decision how you envision it going.  I will show up for you in any way that feels honoring to you.  I will hold + honor boundaries that you choose are aligned with your core values.  And I will celebrate this birthright if you choose also the path to becoming a Mama.

 While Mommy was hospitalized a little longer getting more blood transfusions, your bilirubin levels started to escalate a little bit.  I have treated so many newborns for jaundice/hyperbilirubinemia.  All newborns will have some degree of jaundice as your livers are still maturing.  Sometimes, we use phototherapy which helps breakdown the bilirubin in your blood into a form that you can more easily excrete/break down into your poop or shi shi (pee).  So since yours was borderline and trending that way/climbing, we put you under the bili lights.  The bilirubin lights.  It’s this cute incubator where you get bili goggles and get to lay there in just your diaper.  You were so adorable in there.  And we had to have Aunty N bring you some mittens for your hands because you were scratching your face.  Your mittens just added to the charm.  You beat me out of the hospital. Aunty Dr. J discharged you ahead of me.  You were ready to go, but you waited on me to get discharged with you, of course.

Meanwhile, we worked on our breastfeeding harmony.  The lactation consultants (who I love and had worked with extensively previously), especially Aunty D came in and involved Daddy in the beautiful family art of breastfeeding.  He was so wonderful in arranging pillows and tracking our feeds. He got our app all set up to track which booby you last fed from and for how long.  He would later meticulously help Mommy clean all of the pump parts to my pumping machine, help me salvage the liquid gold as I would nod off after long shifts pumping, help me label the milk I had pumped into bags and arrange them in the freezer in chronological order.  He was so involved from the beginning. 

In the hospital, they don’t cut newborn nails.  So your Daddy gave you your first nail trim when we got home and he has remained your manicurist ever since.  I still love to watch you two sit and trim your nails.

Camden Makaia. 

August 12th.  2016.  Honolulu.  A Hawaiian born mermaid.  To a California hapa Daddy (Filipino-American).  To a Scottish-Irish-German European blend Mama.  To two people who fell in love as college sweethearts chasing their dreams on the soccer field and baseball mound at the time, but knew their dream of a future together was more.  Knew there was more.  Who moved to Tampa and completed medical school and working on the Air Force Base.  Who moved 5000 miles away from everything they knew to start a life on O’ahu.  Who dreamed of you.  Who prayed for you.  Who now held you in their arms.

What I remember most vividly is the sacred stillness suspended in the air even after a beautifully rigorous labor that  birthed you into our realm & was beautifully harmonized by your cries & Daddy declaring, “It’s a girl!” 

 I remember melting into my own reverie of all the things that were to come. You are my spiritual mini-me and we had been journeying together all that time…. of course it was you. And we have been dancing ever since. You have been a compass for my life in such a profound way.  

Your name means through the valley and to the sea—> and that is where you’ll forever find me, my dear mermaid with all of your curls; watching & delighting in how your life plans unfurl.  

 You are magical, delightfully curious.

 You are playful and allow laughter to spill easily.

 Your fierce determination is one of your superpowers.

 I pray everyday to bask in more of your feisty ways.  

 You love me, Daddy, Cruzy & Kai Kai with such a depth only a mermaid 🧜🏼‍♀️ could. 

I love splashing 💦 with you through this life.  

My little mermaid. I delight everyday being part of your world. You continue to teach me so much. You reserve the very best of your light for me & Daddy and now Cruzy. You are protective of your heart ♥️ and I love that I get a front row seat to watch you embrace whatever whimsical idea floats across your twinkling mind, and then gleams in your brown eyes.  Your infectious laugh and the way your curls bounce when you run (and now hop and skip and jump and dance, twirl, allll the things) mesmerizes me everyday and you are every ounce of fierce female I ever dreamed of and am blessed with forevermore in my life.  I wanna be part of your world…. Cue the music.

Please never stop asking me to read just one more book, tell me one more secret, spend just five more minutes building a tent, do just one more hula dance, chase you for just a “couple minutes” and hug you just a little longer.

 I will bask forevermore in your charismatic ways, in your fascination at the world around you.  In the way you look at me. All the magic in the world could not have prepared me for how much you would transcend the fibers of my heart. Even though I asked you if you could stay 3 forever and you said “Sure, but on August 12th I’m turning 4”, it came and you keep on growing and evolving like you always have. 

Thank you for making me a Mommy.  I hope this provides a glimpse into the treasure and legend of you.

All my Love.  All my Aloha.  All my Mama Superpowers.

Mommy