Amelia's Birth Story

Monday. June 23rd. 3:00am. I'm sound asleep. Suddenly, I felt a sort of gush of liquid, not a lot, but enough that it woke me up. In my groggy state, I was thinking - did my water just break? Or did I just pee my pants? I'm honestly not sure....so I got up, went to the bathroom, and once I stood from the toilet, I felt yet another gush. Yep. I'm pretty sure my water just broke. So, what do I do???? The most logical thing of course. I go back to bed, because I'm tired. And I'm thinking labor is coming soon, so I need all the sleep I can get.

In the morning, Jason got up for work and kissed me goodbye, and I think to myself, should I tell him that I think my water broke? No....I'll let him go to work, then I'll call the doctor and see what she says. That way, he doesn't have to take a day off work just because I peed my pants. So, I slept a little longer, waited until 9am and then called my doctor's office. They told me I should just go to Labor and Delivery at the hospital - and they can do a test to make sure that I didn't just pee my pants. At this point, I'm really concerned about ruling this out. 'Cause if I did pee my pants, that would be embarassing. And gross.

I called Jason at work, told him to come home. I called my parents and told them to come on out to my house. The plan was that my dad would watch my other two children, and my mama was going to be there for the birth. I called my SIL Jen, who was supposed to be flying in from Idaho on Wednesday (to be there for the birth) and she was really bummed out. I was really bummed out. We've been planning this for months - hoping that the timing would all work out. So, last minute, she decided to change her ticket and spent the entire day trying to get over to this side of the mountains. She also spent the entire day praying that my baby wouldn't show up before she arrived at the hospital. Wasn't that sweet of her? More on that later...

Jason and I finally arrived at the hospital around 1pm, and they did the tests and sure enough, my water did indeed break. (Phew!) I'm now at 2.5 cm. I wasn't really in active labor at this point, so they told me to walk the halls for a bit to see if that would get things going. Does that ever really get things going? Not in my case. I was having contractions, but nothing strong enough. So, at 4:45pm the nurse wheeled in the pitocin.

And I was scared to death. Because pitocin is the devil. I had pitocin with Andrew, and it was by FAR the most painful thing I've ever experienced in my life. So painful, that I actually started to go insane. From the first drip of that stuff, until they gave me the epidural (3 hours) I was trying my hardest to conjure up a way to get up out of my body, and run away from the hospital as fast as I could. I had convinced myself that this was a realistic option. Seriously, I did not know the human body was capable of feeling that pain. I explained my story to my nurse, and she told me they would take it very, very slow. So, it started to drip.....and you know what? It was fine. It wasn't at all like it was with Andrew. No instant hell. No temporary insanity. Sure, it made the contractions hurt a little more, but it wasn't anything I couldn't breathe through. I was in my groove.

I asked for the birthing ball, and I sat/rocked on it for about an hour, then got back in the bed, then back to the ball and around 8pm, the nurse came in to check me. Coo, I thought. It's money time. I've totally made some RAD progress........er, maybe not. I was at 3cm. After ALL THAT TIME. And pitocin. And feeling like I was mother nature herself just breathing away those contractions. I was even visualizing my cervix opening. And I had made a 1/2 cm progress. LAME. Just look at how happy I am.

Around 9pm, Jen finally walks into the room and informs God that He can go ahead and let me have the baby now that she's arrived. Apparently she's got connections because, oh my goodness, things took off. The contractions were coming closer together, and they were hurting more.....and more.......and more. I was getting to that point where voices were making each contraction hurt more. So, I start shushing people when a contraction started. Shhhhhhhh.....I hold up one finger (which means, quiet please, another one is coming), close my eyes, and breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. And what's this I hear? My mother and Jason having a full on conversation right in the middle of my contraction! They've BOTH been through this with me before, not once, but twice! I love my support system. I think both of them should just quit their day jobs and become doulas. Don't worry, though. They totally got schooled as soon as that contraction was over.

At around 10pm, I decided I was done being a rockstar and asked for the epidural. They came in and got that thing is quick, and within minutes I was comfortable yet again. At 11pm, they checked me again. I was at 5cm. Yeah!!! Things were moving now!

I started to feel some pretty intense pressure, and asked the nurse to up the epidural. I figure, if I paid for it, I want it to work, right? Well, guess what? An epidural doesn't do anything for pressure, it only eliminates the pain from contractions. And the pressure I was feeling was far worse than any other labor I've had. I guess this was because Amelia was in a posterior position or "sunnyside up." I started to shake. Uncontrollably. It hurt. Bad. REALLY FREAKING BAD.

The nurse told me to breathe through the pressure, and she'd check me again. So she starts doing her thing, and says:

"Okay, you're at an 8.....hang on just a sec......(I feel her doing something up there)....yep....mmmhmmm......okay, now you're at a 10. But don't push. We have to call the doctor. He's at home, in bed."

Say what?

Oh, here comes another one. Just breathe.....breathe.....oh, god it hurts......I'm starting to lose it.....just breathe.......keep it together......breathe.

11:50pm: Finally, the doctor walks in and says it's time to push.

Why do women always say that it feels better to push? That is such a lie. It hurt worse with every push. And I had this Nurse Hulk Hogan who wanted me to push like 76 times per contraction. WTF, WWF? I do three pushes per contraction. Max. That's all you're getting out of me, Lady.

After what seemed like an eternity (which incidentally is only 18 minutes), everyone started to really get excited. Push! Harder! You're so close! Here she comes! And just like that, she was out. At 12:08am. All covered in vernix. My butter baby! She started crying right away, and so did I. My first thought was how much I love her. I instantly fell in love with her. My second thought was how relieved to see how perfect she was. I've had this irrational fear my entire pregnancy that something would be wrong with her, and here she was, in my arms, perfectly perfect. No defects. Just perfect. And pretty, too :)

Proud (and handsome) Daddy

Proud Auntie

Proud Granny

Sweet Baby Amelia Rose

She's here!!!

Amelia Rose made her grand entrance into this world this week, just a few days early - looking just like her daddy (again. I swear, my babies just rent my uterus, but have no actual genetic ties to me). She was born on June 24th, at 12:08am. She weighed 7lbs 7oz, making her my smallest baby yet. She is 20 1/4 inches long, but lost that quarter of an inch when her little cone head went down. She's adorable, healthy and a very sweet baby. I will write more about the birth and all of that when I get a chance - I just wanted to post a picture and let everyone know she's here.

POLL: Predict Amelia's Birthday

Let's test your psychic abilities - predict which day Amelia Rose will make her grand entrance into this world. The poll is directly to your left - I'm really curious what you all think - SO VOTE. By the way, her official due date is 6/28....but that's all the help you get from me. The rest is up to your and your inner clairvoyance (or lack thereof.)

Andrew Says The Darndest Things...

I am now 8 days away from my due date, and I think all this pregnancy, labor, birth & baby talk going on in this house has started to have an effect on Andrew.

Before I go into what he actually said, let me give you a little back history. When Andrew was six months old, we had some new neighbors move into our cul-de-sac. They had a baby girl who was five months old, named Angela. Andrew and Angela quickly became best friends. They had little playdates when they were babies. They went to preschool together for two years, and played together outside as often as they could. If you asked one who their best friend was - they automatically pointed to the other. They were tight. Then a few months ago, Angela and her family moved out of state. Andrew has been pretty bummed out, he really misses his friend. The other day, he says:

Andrew: Mom, I really miss Angela. I want to play with her again.

Alivia: Yeah, and I really miss Laaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiina (Angela's little sister). I want to play with her toooooooooooooooo. (This is how Alivia ends every sentence. The last word is drawn out for at least 2 or 3 seconds).

Andrew: Well, you can't Livie. Angela and Laina moved to Uterus.

Alivia: Uteruuuuuuuus?

Andrew: Yeah, and it's really far away.

Me:.....(trying not to giggle)......Where did they move, Andrew?

Andrew: UTERUS!

Me: You mean, Utah?

Andrew:....(thinking)........oh, yeah. Utah.

TOOL

Actual events took place a little over a year ago:

I was upstairs doing my hair when Andrew came in the bathroom and started talking to me. Jason was downstairs feeding Alivia her breakfast. This is how the conversation between Andrew and I went:

"Mom, when I grow up, I wanna be a fireman." (Nothing new...)

"Oh, really? Well, being a fireman is a very important job, but it's also very dangerous, too."

He looked at me with big eyes in shock.

"Well, why is it dangerous?"

"Because firemen go into fires to help put them out and also to rescue people. Sometimes they get trapped in the fire and can get hurt really badly."

He stood there thinking for a minute....

"Well, I don't wanna be a fireman anymore. I think I'll just be a worker."

"Like Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Do you wanna drive an bulldozer, like Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Do you wanna wear a big yellow hardhat like Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Do you wanna be a gihungous tool, like Daddy?"

At this point, I hear Jason cracking up from downstairs. I had no idea he was even listening. Which in turn made me start laughing.

"What's a gihungous tool, anyways?"

"Well, son, go look at your father's face and you'll see just what I'm talking about"

I'm so glad I married a man who can take what I dish out. He's a special, special man. Love you, honey!!!

2 More Weeks!!

A while ago, I bought this camera for Andrew in the hopes that he would take up photography like his mama. And he did. As soon as I purchased it for him, he went around taking pictures of EVERYTHING. The floor. The windows. The countertops. The walls. The dogs. The heater vents. His toys. My dresser. The fireplace. If it's in our house, he has a picture of it. And of course, he wants to keep each and every single picture. So we now have a folder on our computer labeled "Andrew's Pictures" and it's pretty full.

Not too long after he got this camera, I was reviewing his pictures and I found a picture of a duce he'd dropped in the toilet....(take a minute, let the mental picture sink in).... At first, I couldn't contain my laughter, because - I mean, c'mon - that's pretty darn funny. But then, once I'd gathered myself together, he and I had a talk about what appropriate pictures are and are NOT.

Earlier this week, he took this picture of me:

Doesn't that look like fun? I'm so ready for her to be born....

3 More Weeks!

Photo courtesy of PhotoJenic

This picture was taken about 6 weeks ago. I feel like my belly has atleast doubled in size since then. Today, I'm officially 37 weeks. In pregnancy terms, that means I could "go" at anytime and the doctors won't try to stop labor. In Alecia terms, that means I'm going to be pregnant for the next three weeks. So, I decided to write a list as a reminder to myself really how difficult pregnancy can be, especially toward the end. Just in case, I get some crazy idea that I want a 4th someday. This will serve as my birth control.

Here is a list of what I can't wait to do in three weeks:

1. Take a deep breath. Right now, my lungs are conveniently squished up in my throat, and I can only take shallow breaths, which causes me to breath like a fat kid in PE every time I need to move. And nothin' makes me feel sexier.


2. Pee like a normal person. On average, I take approximately 57 trips to the potty a day to relieve what feels like the most extreme bladder pressure in the world, and I end up peeing less than a teaspoon. Literally. It's like 3 drips, tops. I especially like doing this multiple times in the middle of the night. Because then I have to get out of bed (trust me, this process in neither easy nor graceful), and that means, again, I'm breathing like a fat kid in PE all the way to and from the potty.


3. Sleep on my stomach. I'm a stomach sleeper. Big time. My ginormous belly prevents me from being able to sleep in the preferred position. I can't sleep on my back either, because then I feel like I can't breathe. But I can sleep with a fortress of pillows surrounding every nook and cranny of my body. It's like when a teenager sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night, and stuffs his/her bed with pillows to make it appear that there is an actual body sleeping in that bed. That's what my bed looks like. Except I'm buried in there somewhere.


4. Be free of back pain. Good God, it's like I'm 84 years old. It has just become my constant companion. Who I can't wait to get rid of.


5. Following through on my threats to my children. Right now I just lie to them, and hope they believe me. I say things like "Don't make me get up off this couch/come upstairs/do anything that requires any physical activity right now!!" - when I know darn well I'm not moving. I try to get really creative with my tone of voice, like I really mean business. I'll use a really deep voice to emphasize a word or two. They know I'm full of it. But they've only got three more weeks of that luxury. Enjoy it while it lasts, sweet ones!


6. Hold my baby. Who we have finally picked out a name for. She will be named Amelia Rose. Andrew picked out her middle name, which I think is pretty darn special that he got to be apart of naming his baby sister. I'm glad we didn't go with his original choice which was Purple Dollar. Somehow, Ameila Purple Dollar just doesn't sound right. I can't wait to meet her, see what she looks like and welcome her into our family.

Andrew: Part Human....Part Dog.

Andrew was born a hairy little fella. He was born with swirls of hair on his back and shoulders, and no matter how much everyone told me that it would fall out...it did not. He was also born with a mullet, which was promptly chopped off at the ripe old age of 6 weeks old. I couldn't take it anymore.

Earlier this year, he came home from school and the following conversation took place:

Andrew: Mom, do I have man arms?

Me: Why do you ask? Because your muscles are so big?

Andrew: No. Allison (a classmate) told me I have man arms because they are so hairy....so, do I?

He does have hairy arms. He's my hairy little guy. And now I know why. Last night when we were driving home, he asked if he could have his window down so he could finish the ride home like this:

It all makes sense to me now. He's part dog. That's all there is to it.

Why is it...

...that when I ask my sweet, adorable and angelic little girl to smile pretty for the camera, this is what I get?

Does she practice this in the mirror for hours? I'm just curious.