I've never written a birth story before. Some things seem almost too precious to write down, like they're only dear enough to savor in your heart. Too dear to share. But I want to write it all down because 1. there are so many of the details I don't want to let myself forget and 2. who doesn't love a good birth story?
I don't know why some big decisions in life are so clear and easy and "yes, that is what we should do" simple, but some aren't. Some are big and scary and you don't know which is what and its frightening to say one way or another. That's how I've felt for probably two years about having a fourth baby. I didn't know. In the back of my mind, I'm always slightly afraid that I'll take on one inch more than I can actually take on and I'll snap into a million pieces. I thought maybe that fourth baby would be my breaking point...could I handle it? We debated for months. Yes, no. Yes, no. Until last August when our answer became a resounding, "yes."
Flying back home from South Dakota last August, the day before Jack's 7th birthday. I knew something was going on, but
that? No way. We left so early that morning, a flight before the sun. The kids quickly zonked out, Jack's sleepy little head on my lap. I, on the other hand, was not sleeping. My head was in a million different directions, different scenarios, different streams of sanity. Somewhere in the middle of my frantic thoughts, Jack sat up and stared at my face. "Mom, I just want a baby so bad. I don't remember when Sophie was a baby and I want to be a big brother. Like a
big brother, you know?" Ya, serious folks. He said that. Right in the middle of my stewing, little Jack Jack was thinking about a baby too, but on an entirely different wave-length.
Fast forward to 40 weeks + 6 days of pregnancy and a thousand stories later. I posted
this post that day, whined about how tired I was about being overdue. I skipped church. We did a little house shopping (more on that later...and yes, we found the
one that very day.) We ate lunch out. I wasn't hungry. Noah, Mom, and I went to get groceries and it started. I had been having so many of those rude fake contractions, I wasn't sure. But after the groceries were put away and they were still happening, my mom made me sit down and she timed them. Jarrod was in the back with the kids completely oblivious that the words of our baby's birth story were slowly being jotted down.
I moved slow, unusually calm. Mom called Jarrod to come get ready to go. I showered. Somewhere in there Sophia came inside. She was a nervous burst of energy in the room. While I showered, she brought be jewelry, pajamas, a toothbrush. She put things into my bag; shoes, my camera, make-up. The boys came inside. Noah was nervous. He flipped through books on the couch and chewed on his lips. Somehow Jack missed the memo of what we were doing, "What?! You're going now!? I thought we were eating dinner...." Ya, it confused the little guy that everyday for the passed 6 weeks had asked if it was time, is it time, is it time a million times. They were all nerves and excitement. My mom made them dinner. I snapped some pictures with my
just three before we left. We drove off to blown kisses, wide eyes, and big waves.
Even though I'd done this three times before, there's still a big element of
holy crap we're about to do this thing. I don't know if I'm just an old worry wart now or what, but I had more anxiety this time then I ever have. Just worried. What if something went wrong during delivery? What if something was wrong with the baby? The anxiety never really went away til much later. The night drifted on. They moved us from the first monitoring room to the delivery room. The contractions got stronger, but not unbearable. I hadn't felt contractions in over five years and strangely enough, I wanted to.
(for a little bit and then give me the drugs, you get me??) Jarrod paced and ate Swedish Fish. He kept making me laugh.
The anesthesiologist came in. I soon felt that cool rush of the IV down my back that I both welcome with open arms and curl my toes in fear against...a love/hate relationship. With Noah, I had no drugs. With the other two, I did. I chose the latter this time too.
It was getting late, around 1 am. It was so quiet and calm. Jarrod dozed, I dozed. In between, I listened to everything; the clock, the monitor, the baby's heartbeat, the blood pressure cuff, Jarrod's slow deep breaths...I took it in. I knew that this was going to be my last rodeo and I wanted to make it count. I wanted to remember it all, see it all, take it all in. Around 2:30 am, the doctor came in to break my water. After she did so, I knew the look exchanged between her and the nurse meant something was up. "It's not uncommon, especially in overdue babies, to have a bowel movement. We'll have to call the NICU team but there's nothing to worry about. Also, it looks like the baby is facing upwards instead of downwards so we're going to try to get the baby to rotate." Cue more anxiousness.
They had me twist my upper body to try to get her to shift and they said they'd be back in 15 minutes to check again. After five, the intuitive mama-gene kicked into hyper-mode telling me it was
time. And it was. In about 45 seconds, our quiet oasis was filled with people; the doctor, nurses, the NICU team, a sweet Asian student nurse named Christina who I'm pretty sure was more freaked out than me by a long shot. The adrenaline in me kicked into overdrive, leaving no room for the anxiety because for those of us that have been through this crazy experience you know there's no room for anything else but to focus on the present. A little sweat and five pushes later and my 9 pound 7 ounce bundle was in front of my eyes, blinking at me. The sweet smell of a newborn baby hit me in the face like a kiss. The doctor gave Jarrod the go-ahead to make the announcement. He had been so
so sure that this was a boy, he'd basically not even looked, until he did. I saw his face take it in, "it's a.....
girl."
I laughed and the tears came. All the months of sciatic pain, numb ribs, nausea, emotions running rampant; it all became worth it in an instant, in a rush at 3:16 am.
My girl.
My second girl.
It all suddenly made sense. I somehow knew that this the way it was supposed to be all along. All my fears, my anxieties, my worries...this was the plan the whole time, I just hadn't seen it. Our family, completed by a sweet girl I never knew I needed. I laid with her forever, drinking her in. Meeting each other for the first time is the best blessing there is.
Her name...Vera Mae. It fit so perfectly from the first moment. There's really no great significance to the name we chose other than I loved the meaning of it, "faithful one", and Mae is an old family name. It suits her so well.
They moved us up to the Mother-Baby floor. They said to rest. There was no way. I finally had this little person in my hands. There was no chance of resting. The sun started to come up a few hours later, over the mountains a million colors bursting just for us, I just knew. I thanked God for my perfect daughter,
for the other sweet babies I knew had barely slept waiting to hear the news,
for the months we have to prepare ourselves for that moment,
for the two sons and two daughters I now had; perfect playmates and best friends forever,
for all I had and hadn't seen.
Jarrod left later to get the kids. I could hear them in the hall before they came in. Their faces as they met their sister are forever engraved in my memory. Their pride and wonder...it was almost too much for my heart.
Bringing another person into your home always has a learning curve attached. We're all getting used to each other. I am learning about this new little girl and loving this sweet time. It's less sleep, yes, but what we've gained instead is so much more. She sleeps really well, she's only waking up once a night. There are so many little things I don't want to forget about this precious newborn time:
Her hair waving at me from the ultrasound screen three days before she was born like seaweed in the water. She has way more hair than any of the others, I can all but braid it.
Her nightly routine of waking around 3am every night, the same time I woke up while I was pregnant almost every night for the last 3 months.
Her daily hiccups that have carried over from the last several months of pregnancy into her infancy. The little chirps making the kids hysterical.
Her smell. Her precious, irreplaceable newborn smell. I cannot get enough.
Knowing this is the last bambino, I'm acutely aware of all these details. In the past 10 days I've tried to write down and organize my thoughts. It's hard to do. I've had a few baby-blue breakdowns. Mostly I'm digging my heels in against the racing world, refusing to go fast and get back to normal. I don't want normal. Because there's nothing normal about this amazing event of becoming a mama once again. It's extreme and beautiful and not to be passed over. I'm throwing my fist up at the calendar and we're skipping everything right now. I'm saying, let's just pause please a little longer.
We didn't stay long in the hospital. Usually I like to take my time there and enjoy the quietness, but this time I was anxious to get home to my other babies. They wanted her home. I wanted her home. Jarrod and I packed her up, driving home a little slower than normal. We were welcomed by our entourage, a welcoming committee of love. I'm pretty sure she hasn't been put down since.
I sit here bewildered...days later...wondering how it is that I've been so blessed. My heart is so full it almost hurts. The Master Baby Creator knew just what I needed. He knew our family needed one more sweet girl. He knew that even after two induction dates scheduled and neither working out that deep down I wanted to let our baby choose it's own birthday and I wanted to feel that excitement of going into labor on my own. He knew Sophie needed a sister. He knew. He knew.
This is Vera's beginning. The start of a life. I've been praying for her future; her health, her life. Grandma's gone home, hence our house is messy but our hearts are full and overflowing which is all we're really concerned about right now.
We're not quite ready to go back to everyday life, it feels forever changed anyway. If you need me I'll be smelling my Vera Mae.
xo,
{alicia}
