Friday, November 13, 2009

Drumroll, Please...

This picture is specifically posted for Amy. I was about 7 months along. :)

This, my friends, is my TWO HUNDRED-FIFTIETH BLOG!

I am dedicating it to my newly born little Lily.

I had my scheduled appointment with the CNM on Tuesday morning. She told me I was a 3, and with the ever-present sympathy in her eyes, told me that if I felt like I really, really wanted to, I could be induced at any time. I told her I would just wait...I have heard too many stories about how induced labor is HORRIBLE because the contractions come on strong and quickly. Didn't sound like fun. No thanks...I'll pass...Not that it mattered in the end anyway, but I digress...

So, I was crabby the rest of the day. I am not sure why. I was crabby at my body, I was crabby at my kids, I was crabby at YOU...well, no, I guess I wasn't, but you get the idea. By the time Jeremy came home I had tiny rain clouds following me everywhere.

We decided after dinner to go on a walk (hoping to induce labor...yeah, no.) and my crabbiness morphed into wanting to cry for no reason. Poor, poor Jeremy...

After getting home, we threw the kids in bed and plopped on the couch and stared at each other. Very boring.

"What do you want to do?"


"Um...I guess we can just go to bed."



On his way down to his pillow, Jeremy passed out, and I laid there, twiddling my thumbs. Oh the joys of pregnancy insomnia.

SYSTEMS CHECK, I said to myself.

Any contractions detected?

Negatory. Run additional analysis in 5 minutes. (By the way, did you know that "negatory" isn't a word, but "nugatory" is?? Weird.)

Moments ticked by...

SYSTEMS ALERT! Contractions immanent! BRACE FOR IMPACT!

Me: "OUCH!"

Jeremy: "ZZZZZ...?....ZZZZ"


Negatory. But they appear to be gaining in strength. Keep Yellow Alert status until further notice.

An hour later...

"What the...??!?!?!?!?"


Send message to the other contributing unit to deploy this unit to birthing facility.

Message sending, following standard procedure for when verbal communication has malfunctioned.






Jeremy: "...zzzz...wha...??"

Me: *whimper*

Jeremy: "OH."


My contractions went from 8 minutes apart to 2 minutes apart in ten minutes. I think my body was trying to kill me.

At the hospital, I barely made it inside before I had to curl up in a fetal position in the waiting room while Jeremy talked with the receptionist.

They took me back, and due to the constant contractions, figured I was admitable, and they got everything ready while they checked me in. For some reason, the hospital thinks it necessary to play 20 questions with their in-labor patients.

"Um,, are you thinking of something animal?"

What the...?

"Okay, mineral?"


"Is it blue?"

Make it stop...

"Is it in this room?"

Jeremy, read my mind and dispose of this sorry sack of a person...

After the nurse tired of this little game, they wheeled me back to the farthest room in the maternity ward, which was, at the time, 40 miles away. Later, it was about a one minute walk back to the receptionists desk.

They hooked me up to about 100 machines, making an extremely bloody mess of it, I might add, and they called the most important person in my life: The Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist (say that word five times fast).

He came in what seemed like a month after I got there, and looked at me with sleepy eyes. The only thing I noticed (besides the fact that he had no hair at all on his head) was how big his teeth were. Hey, at 12:30 AM things just stick out to you.

He swabbed my back down with what looked like concentrated horse piddle, measured my spine, poked my sides (I seriously hope he wasn't trying to make me laugh, because I didn't. I didn't think I had to humor this man.), said, "Well, here goes nothing!" and drove a steel I-beam into my spine. The result was me waiting for the pain to stop, and wondering why it wasn't. After a few moments, I meekly asked if I should be feeling anything still, and he again gave me a glimpse of his giant teeth and waved the medication at me. "I haven't put it in yet!" I grabbed him by his nose hair and screamed, "WHY THE HECK NOT!? YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?????" He then hooked me up, and quickly left the room. I sank into revere as the left side of my body started folding itself into some amazing yoga positions, if I do say so myself. The right side just gave me first hand accounts of what it would be like to be stabbed over and over again with an icepick in one spot.

The nurse, Karine, (whom I love and adore) realized that something wasn't quite right, and called Dr. Teeth back. He wandered in, and after hearing what was going on, decided he needed to redo the I-beam. I was okay with that since 90% of the area he poked was numb anyway. After getting everything situated, he gave me not just a dose but a DOUBLE dose of my epidural. And as my legs sailed off and turned into Jello, I turned to thank this man of men, and it could have been the drugs, but I swear he had a halo.

I was then instructed to sleep. Right.

Jeremy, however, had made a nest in the corner with assorted linens he had been collecting since we got there, and apparently was prepared for long term hibernation, because he curled up and in about .0000001 seconds was asleep.

Nuuu nee nuu nee nuu....

After a little while, I noticed that I could no longer hear my baby's heartbeat. The nurse came in as I prepared for a panic attack, adjusted the monitor, and I peacefully reclined back as I hummed along with the drone of the beat.

A little while after that, the heart beat got slower, and slower, and slower. Lucky for me, the nurses were in the room. And while they were attempting to be cheerful and non-threatening, there is something extremely disturbing about watching all the nurses move double time, and about Karine throwing an oxygen mask at me, hurriedly saying, "Here, put this on!" in such a way that it would have sounded more natural if she had handed me a party hat.

Apparently, Lily had descended too low and couldn't "breathe." (I am sure there is a more technical explanation, but they never gave me ANY explanation, so I had to make one up that would make sense to you, and to me.) Once they fixed whatever there was to fix, her heartbeat went back to normal, and I could breathe again.

Right after that the doctor came in (I had dilated to a 10 quickly). I think he had either just woken up, or had just gotten back from crashing a cocktail party.

"Heeeeyyyy!" he said.

He then began joking with everyone in the room between little cat naps he kept taking as he stood there.

As things progressed, it was ascertained that Lily was posterior (for those who don't know, that means she was face up. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it's not ideal. It can cause facial bruising, and is apparently extremely painful for the mother.) When the doctor observed this he said, "She's looking up! That's cool!" (Now, don't get the wrong idea. Dr. Tipsy has been practicing for 30+ years. He ain't no noob. Perhaps he is just easily entertained.) He then whipped out his salad spoons. Enough said.

Things wound up pretty quickly after that. The result was a miniature Eva. No joke. They pulled Lily out, and it was total deja vu. Only smaller. Eva was almost a whole pound bigger. So, there was my Lily! The whole 6 lbs 12 oz and 18.5 inches of her! Instant love...

Now, all of this has been rather silly, but I must assure you that as I lay in that hospital bed, in the quiet of the night, I felt heaven very near. It must be that heaven stops to watch their beloved little ones come down, and the heavens must hold their breath as life and death touch, and a miracle is performed. I was afraid I would lose my little Lily, but I truly believe that Heavenly Father heard my pleading heart as I feared her heart might stop altogether, and protected my precious daughter.

And now that she is here, I feel like she has always been a part of us. Another miracle and gift from God, I believe. It seems that the veil is thinner as these little ones enter our lives, and we remember partially what was before, and what is to come in the eternities.


Amy said...

Oh my goodness. She is beautiful! Congratulations, my dear.

Gorgeous name :) Couldn't love it more.

What's her middle name?

And thanks for the picture! You were one of THOSE skinny preggies. Lucky girl.

shydandelion said...

Yeah, I knew you would like her name. :) Her middle name is Adelaide. All my kids have French middles. You can thank my Mom for instilling in me the importance of my French-Canadian ancestors.

Katscratchme said...

The picture makes her look bigger than she really is. I'm astounded at how tiny she is!

Jen said...


Trillium said...

Darling Lily.

Adelaide is your fifth-great-grandmother's first name. She was "Adelaide Luce Verrier." She was born on 10 August 1806 and died 90 years later on her birthday in 1896. She had 12 children--4 girls and 8 boys. I am sure she is honored to be remembered in your name.

Tina said...

Oh Dara! I've been thinking about you all day and now to see that I'm WAY behind!! How precious she is. I love how tiny she is and she can stay your little Lily for awhile. I love little babies!! Your story was very entertaining I might add. Don't forget to include what time she was born at in your next post and some pics of her and your other kids.
Congrats!! She is adorable!!

Melanie Ann Millett said...

Also Christy from choir has a daughter named Lily. Bet you didn't know that.

Melanie Ann Millett said...

So she was born on the 11th? Phew. She was almost born on Friday the 13th!

Rebecca said...

very entertaining blog. You will have to share this with Lily when she is older.

She is very cute. I can't wait to see her next month.

Zaphod said...

She has her grandfather's veins.

Les said...

Dara she is beautiful!!! I am so glad that you both are doing well. I hope things have continued to go well and she and your other two little ones are letting you sleep after the delivery. Congratulations!

Tiffany said...

She's beautiful!!!

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