Doctor Update

Woops... I just realized I never updated after Lierre's 2 month doctor appointment.

Weight: 10 pounds 5.5 ounces.... 15-20th percentile (down from the 50th percentile). I asked the doctor if this was a concern. She said she was not worried, but they'd compare next time, just to make sure she is gaining the appropriate amount of weight.

Length: 23 inches (up from 22 inches... a whole inch in a month...eeek). This is the 50th percentile, although it feels like she is about a foot longer.

Shots: Lierre actually seemed to cry less (or at least in a less sad way) than her one month shots. She just held her breath for awhile, turned bright red, then let out a scream. As soon as she was picked up and/or nursing, she was fine.  She did get a little fever later in the evening, but after a dose of Tylenol, she was fine. Phew. What a weight off my mind that she did well.

Lierre loving on her Wubbanub

A blurry half-smile I caught the other day

In other news: 
I go back to work in two, count 'em two, days. I've pretty much just cried on and off for a few days. At times, it seems completely doable and I am so thankful for this opportunity and excited. Then, five minutes, or two hours, or 3 hours later, it seems completely impossible---both emotionally and situationally. HOW am I going to plan lessons for 7 completely different students at different ages and developmental levels? HOW can do I do these lessons at home when I have a needy little one who constantly needs to be held? HOW will I handle seeing Lierre only twoish to fourish hours a day before she goes to sleep? HOW will I handle missing so much of her development day to day? HOW will I be able to teach at my best when there are times I am up on and off from 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. onward? HOW will I be able to make myself walk out the door when my sweet angel is still in bed and won't see me again until dinner? HOW is this formula all day while mommas at work then nursing at night going to work out?

. . . . . . I seriously have so many "How??" questions tumbling around in my head and my heart that I do not have the answers to. I do know the "Why?" though.... it is so that we can give Lierre all that she needs. So that she will have opportunities now (zoo trips, new clothes, formula, days out) and in the future (college).

I will have to do my best to keep that in mind. Remind me of that, ok readers? And please, please pray for me, and for our family as we transition into this new chapter of life.

Our morning snuggle today...How I will miss this!

What's My Age Again?

"My friends say I should act my age.... what's my age again? What's my age again?"--Blink 182

Tim and I walked in as they announced us after our wedding to this Blink 182 song "What's My Age Again?" We chose this song (mostly) because it's Tim's favorite band, but also to sort of poke fun at our age difference. Age has never been important to us, and if you are around us you wouldn't be able to tell that there are a solid 7-8 years between us (depending on what time of year you ask).

Anyways... age has been on my mind lately. No, no, this isn't a "woe is me I'm getting older" type post. It's just, I am feeling so comfortable in my own skin and yet I feel like I don't fit in to any kind of age group. Let me elaborate a little. . .

I wake up early, hearing my baby's cries. I hate the morning, I'm not a morning person, but I've been forced into being a morning person since August. I'm still tired, still physically worn out from the day before and moan and groan and feel like I'm at least in my 40's (Not old, just older than me). Yet, I'm getting used to this "morning person" thing and have some energy that starts to course through my body as I gear up for the day... It reminds me of when I was a child in elementary school, maybe 7 or 8, and actually enjoyed the mornings and wondered why my teenage brothers had to sleep so late.

I take care of Lierre for a little while and then leave her with Tim to go for a short jog. I hate running. However, as I get into the zone, the horizon doesn't seem so far away and I feel how young I am and really embrace this mid-20's thing. I still have a chance to get back to some kind of body I might want to show off.

Later that day I will talk to a friend about their week/weekend and how they went out clubbing or about some new guy they met, some bad decisions they made (the fun kind like staying up all night and sleeping all day) and I feel like such a parent.... like I may as well be 50 and they are my children and I am both shaking my head at how silly they were, and feeling a slight twinge of envy at that freedom. The freedom to make really stupid decisions without it really adding up to much.

Speed ahead to later that day, where I am a first year teacher trying to figure out as much as possible without coming across as completely incompetent (when are they going to catch on to the fact that I'm "just a kid" and whyohwhyaretheylettingmeteachtheirchildren?) and ask the right questions and appear as unfazed by the huge job that has been handed to me.... and I feel like I'm a teenager about to be left with a huge group of children to babysit for a measly $7.50 an hour and "Sure, I'm totally fine with this! Go enjoy your date while I try to wrangle these children without somehow inadvertently killing them."

I deal with Fibromyalgia on a daily basis. I don't like talking about it much, there's nothing to really do about it, but there are times where I think if I have to do one more thing, if I have to stand up or pick Lierre up one more time, or clean, that my arms will fall off and my joints will catch on fire and I will be certain to get a fever because I already feel like I have the flu....and I feel like I'm in my 70s. I long for the days where pain wasn't constantly right around the corner (don't get me wrong, I have it so much better than some people with Fibro, but it still stinks).

Tim and I will be sitting on the couch, half asleep, forming jumbled sentences in our harried states of mind, and I feel like he and I have been married for years and years and years.... and then he pulls me into a snuggle and kisses my forehead and I am reminded how we are still "newlyweds" and I feel young and so thankful to have so much time left.

Age. I could go on and on about the constant see-saw I feel like I'm on lately, but I've already rambled without really having a point.... Age. What a tricky thing.

2 Months

My dearest little bird,

Happy 2 months (a week late)!!! Two months, two months. You have grown and changed and... matured so much from one month to two. You up and decided around week seven to suddenly start putting yourself down for naps. No more 30 second to 5 minute cat naps for you, sister.... you went all the way into at least a two to four hour nap a day, followed by a little eating, just to go back down for about another hour. The times this happens each day has been a little different day to day, but for the most part we are getting into a rhythm, for which I am so thankful. Your momma was about to pull her hair out with your lack of sleep and fussy ways.

You are so much happier with your sleep---until we put you down or your paci falls out (which happens about every 30 seconds). This still sends you from zero to freak out in about two minutes or less generally. Well. We are working on it. You figured out naps, so I'm sure you will figure this out, too.... You are teaching me more than I am teaching you for sure. 

The last time you wore these pjs... You are officially too big!

We were supposed to get your two month shots today, but as I got up and started getting ready, they had to reschedule for the end of the week. Despite my annoyance at the change of plans, I was secretly relieved--I have been dreading you getting this shots so much! Everyone says they will be harder on me than on you--I am sure they are right. So, because we didn't go to the doctor, your weight and length updates will have to wait.

I am going to start work next week and even though it is something I have worked for, the thought of leaving you is so hard for mommy. It has made me hold on to you a little bit longer and a little tighter each day. I went to meet the principal of my new school and wander the school for awhile this week, and when I came back you were having a royal fit that carried on throughout the rest of the day until you went to bed that night. It makes me that much more nervous to leave you! I cannot wait until we are all on some kind of schedule. Daddy and Gramma are going to be watching you while I work, at least until Christmas--we all agree you are just too little to head to childcare just yet. Even though I know you will be in good hands, this does not stop the lump from forming in my throat or my eyes from watering as I lay you down in your crib for bed, knowing my 24/7 momma time is running out like sand in an hour glass. Time with you is so precious. I soak up every second and am so honored to be your mom. 

New Things: You have started smiling between one month and two and it was so beautiful the first time I saw it, tears gathered in my eyes--Your whole face transforms into this sunburst that lights up the room. You have the most adorable dimples that I hope stay with you forever! 

You have also started playing on your play mat in the floor almost every day. You love to look at the little animals hanging from it, but surprisingly are not interested in the mirror at all. This is about the only place I can leave you "alone" without you crying that you are not being held. 

We went to your first "restaurant" this past week--- Lox, Stock, and Bagel. You cried and fussed until I held you. It was very hard to eat a messy sandwich with you in my arms. Tonight we went to Olive Garden with Gramma and you were *wonderful* and slept in your car sleep most of the time.

For the last 3 nights, you have slept between 8 and 12 hours without waking up for a feeding. This is incredible, but the first two nights your daddy and I lay awake worried about you, but determined to see if you could do it. You continue to shock us with this one!

Your favorite things: Lately, your afternoon naps. Keep it up! 

-Still, any kind of music. Your favorites lately? K-Love Christian station on the radio..... and Blink 182--the louder the better. It somehow sends you right into a dozing state in the car. 

-You love your play mat and start to kick your feet when I lay you down on the brightly colored animal prints that make up the mat. 

-You have loved being outside for any reason since we brought you home from the hospital and that has not changed. It can stop your cries in their tracks. It makes me wonder what you will do as you get older.... maybe something that involves nature or the environment? 

-You love when daddy holds you with your feet in the air and your head/chest on his shoulder.... your body parallel to the ground. We think maybe it feels good on your tummy. 

Your least favorite things: remain the same: being put down, paci falling out of your mouth, or cold.

I can't wait to see how much you grow and change from now until three months. But take your time, sweet girl. Don't rush this time too much, we are enjoying it and would be perfectly happy with it taking a little longer. We continue to be wrapped around your finger. You light up our lives day to day and we love you so much!

The Perfect Pumpkin

Lierre's Birth Story Part 3

(...Please read the previous posts before continuing on to this one. Thank you kindly!)

HEADING INTO THE O.R./DELIVERY

I remember as the nurse technicians and nurses walking quickly beside my bed. I remember looking around, seeing baby posters and medical charts on the walls that we passed. I remember Tim trying to encourage me that soon we would see our baby girl. But still, what I remember most from this point, is how I felt. I kept trying to take a deep breath to steady myself, but it seemed like it didn't fill my lungs... not that I was breathing shallow, but that my lungs were a bottomless pit that refused to be filled. Just breath.... Dear God, please be with me. I'm scared. Keep her safe. Please. Keep her safe. Help her. My prayers for Lierre's safety became sort of a mantra that repeated over and over in my mind as we made our way to the operating room.

No one could really pull a full sentence out of me. The slightest hint that anything could happen to Lierre was enough to make me lose focus on all else in the world--she was my goal and every ounce of my thoughts, my heart, my fight were ready in case she needed me.

Still, everyone kept telling me how I would be holding my baby girl soon, that I would get to eat whatever I wanted afterwards (my parents already had Subway waiting for me--my true craving through pregnancy that I never gave in to).

No one told me that Tim would not be allowed in right away, so when they made him wait in the hallway while they transferred me onto the table and got me hooked up to various IVs, I could feel my heart rate shoot up even higher (if that was possible). I don't know if you know this, but Operating Rooms are freezing. So much colder than anywhere else in the hospital, and when you have a fever (at this point they tell me it is 102 point something) it is that much worse. I felt like my joints were on fire and that I had been stuck in a tub of cold water--which was made that much more bizarre by the fact that I couldn't feel much below my neck because of the epidural. My shaking from earlier in the labor had become alarmingly worse.... They kept assuring me how much I was shaking was normal, but then I would see them shoot covert looks at one another and then tightening the bands holding my arms down a little more. Where is Tim? I need him. What are they thinking, making him stay apart from me for even a second? Don't they know how much of a team we are? Don't they realize I am about two seconds from losing it? Finally, fiiiinnally they let Tim in.

I guess I expected some sort of announcement that they were going to start, some kind of fan fare..... nope. As I'm lying there with my ice cold hands and vibrating body (at this point I'm not kidding... if someone told me I was having a seizure I would have believed them), I hear them talking about what they are doing to one another. I guess they started...huh. How about that. Just breath. Do NOT pay attention, just let go, just space out. God keep us safe. I remember snapping at Tim more than once that he better not look at what they were doing and I needed him to just look at me. I kept my ears open though, waiting to hear her sweet cry. Waiting and waiting.... waiting.... wait a second, this seems to go a lot quicker on television. Is television wrong? I thought they could get a baby out in like 60 seconds in an emergency if they needed to.... so why is this taking so long? "Is everything ok?" I wasn't quite sure if I voiced this question aloud or just thought it. Either way, there was no real response. At this point I remember Tim being very still, his eyes kind of darting around the room. Why isn't he looking at me? What's going on? I hear some hushed voices and hear the breath of the doctor kick up a notch, almost panting. This is so strange. Where is she? Why haven't I heard her cry? What is taking so long? Another doctor or two come bustling into the room and behind the curtain they go. It was so frustrating that I couldn't see them and read their facial expressions.

[Let me pause here and explain for those of you who don't know, when you have a c-section, someone is pushing down slightly underneath your ribs towards your feet... something about it opening up the area or making it easier to grab the baby or something.]

Again I hear how hard the doctors are breathing and take note that there are at least like seven or more people in the room. Someone, the doctor I think, finally pushes down extremely hard on my stomach--so hard that even with the epidural, even with my fever that is steadily climbing, I feel it and I cry out. It felt like someone was trying to crack my ribs they pushed so hard. Lierre had moved down so much in that hour of waiting that she was stuck. Try as they might they could not get her out. That is why the extra doctors had come in.... someone apparently was pushing up, while someone else pushed down, and someone else was trying to pull her out--- no one ever bothered to tell me this, not during the c-section, and not at any time at our hospital stay. I had to find out all the details at my post-partum doctor appointment.... So angry.

Anyways....

I wait and wait and then I hear their voices--this time they sound happy. I couldn't tell you what they said, but then Tim told me that she was there! Where is her cry? I can't see her. Why won't they hold her up or something? Finally I heard her sweet cry.... not too high pitched, not annoying, not anything that I had feared in the months leading up to her birth.... just a cry that I will remember forever. They lay her down on a table to the left of me and tell Tim to go over. At this point, I am so so happy.... but I am also beyond irritated. No one was showing her to me and I was out of patience. I heard Tim saying "She's so beautiful!" and my heart swelling with pride, while a fiery anger boiled just below the surface. Finally, I think it was my nurse from earlier, says for them to bring her over to me.

And then, in a moment that I will remember as clear as day, Tim holds Lierre's face close to mine and we locked eyes. Every single thing about her was intensely familiar even though I had never seen her. I don't remember crying, but I remember having to ask for someone, anyone, to wipe the tears off my face and out of my eyes so that I could see her better (why didn't they undo my arms?).

My first words to her were something like this: "I love you so much.... I am so proud of you. I love you, Lierre. I am going to take such good care of you, I promise. I promise. I love you. You did it... I'm so proud of you." Over and over, that's all I could say, all I could think.

Everyone laughed at this point because even when pulled away a tiny bit, Lierre would turn her head to where my voice was and stare at me. While our eyes were connected, all else faded away. Every single time. 

Tim looked so happy, even with his mask on. His eyes were glowing with happiness, and once again I found it hard to catch my breath--this time out of sheer joy. I was so thankful we were together and well. To God be the glory forever and ever. 

WHAT CAME NEXT...

What happened next and for the rest of the stay were pretty much one bad experience after another. They did NOT let me hold Lierre. They took me to recovery and refused to let Tim back there. I lay alone for a little over 3 hours. Completely alone. No one could tell me anything about Lierre. No one would tell me where they were. I am not going to get into that (at least this post, maybe ever). I also had an allergic reaction that resulted in my body looking like this: 

The nurses reaction to this? One. Benadryl. ONE. I take 2 for a cold. IV's eventually had to be called in (once my hearing started going and my ears were itching), were inserted incorrectly, and hurt pretty bad.

I did not get to HOLD MY OWN BABY or nurse her until almost FOUR HOURS later. 

LAST THOUGHTS

I could go on and on about some of the bad things that happened there....but I am choosing to stop. My dear sweet daughter was born, and healthy (minus some jaundice). Regardless of the journey, the greatest gift of my life was placed in my arms on August 16, 2012. I am beyond humbled that I have been entrusted with such a huge job--raising a daughter. Each day that passes I feel another steel cable wrap itself around us in an unbreakable bond, pulling us closer. Every day I know her a little better. 

There will be no greater gift than seeing my daughter smiling in my sweet, strong husband's arms. 

To God be the glory... forever, and ever, and ever.

Lierre's Birth Story Part 2

(...continued from the previous post. Please start there, if you would be so kind. I promise Part 3 will have pictures, too.)

C-SECTION DECISION

So, we decided to take a little break. I was getting a little weary, but it was more so from not sleeping or eating than being worn out from pushing. I definitely felt like I had more in me. Tim asked the nurse if she thought it was ok for him to go and update my family and get a snack (I had to beg him to eat something, poor guy). She said yes and I leaned back and tried to relax some in between the few pushes I did with the nurse in the room.

Where was the doctor?? Oh wait, there she is. Finally.... maybe she can help me push better. Maybe we can try pushing in a new position. I bet she can make sure that Lierre has turned. WOMP WOMP. The doctor breezed into the room, gave a quick peek "down there" and then launched into a heart breaking speech. (Let me pause for a second and say that all of my feelings of being heart broken etc that are about to follow... I know we are blessed. I am so thankful for Lierre's health. I do not take any of it for granted, not one second. Just keep that in mind.) "So! You have been pushing for about two hours. I can't really tell which way she is facing... I tried to feel, but I just am not sure. Anyways, my opinion is that we should go ahead with a C-Section. You just have been pushing a long time. From what I've read, she might be a big baby. So... that's what I think we should do."

Every word she said laid heavy into my heart like a little person was stomping around in there. Stomp, stomp, stomp. "Not progressing." Stomp. "C-section." Stomp. " I felt like I was having an out of body experience, looking down on the doctor, the nurse, and me in the room. The nurse shuffling awkwardly and uncomfortably by the side (I think, looking back, that she disagreed with the doctor. Or that she just felt terrible about my joking having to become a reality after she had spent 2 hours cheering me on, saying I was progressing just fine), the doctor standing at the foot of the bed with vigorous nods meant to reassure me I'm sure, and me on the bed--pale, tired, alone. Tim still had not returned. I waved my hands around as I tried to ask them to please hold on, please, while I tried to get my husband back in there. I floundered trying to figure out how to do that, especially after the nurse pointed out that Tim had left his phone in the room.

I will not cry. Hold it together. You can do it. Do NOT be that woman from TLC who freaks out just because she has to have a c-section. It's ok. People do this all the time. But.... but I don't want a c-section. I still have energy. I think I can do this. My body was made to do this. I can do this. 

I snapped at the nurse to hand me my phone. I then texted every family member who could have possibly been in the waiting room-- "Tell Tim to get back here ASAP." I took a deeeeep, deep breath and blinked hurriedly trying to keep my tears at bay. I broke the rule about waiting until Tim got there.

Me: Are you sure? I mean... I'm definitely still willing to try to push. I still have energy.
Dr.: No, no.... I just don't think it would do anything.
Me: Can I ... I mean, can I try?
Dr.: I just think a C-section would be best.
Me: Is she doing ok? Is anything wrong with her?
Dr: She is doing well, I just worry that if we keep trying, things might change.

What?! I want to keep trying. But what if she is right? I don't want anything happening to Lierre. What if she gets hurt because I am arguing this? I should trust her.... but I don't! What if she gets stuck and it is my fault? Just do the C-section. Wait for Tim. Go ahead. Wait and try. What do I do?

Me: Do you think you could try something else? Uhm... forceps? Or the vacuum thing?
Dr: Well... if she is a big baby, her shoulders could get stuck and that would be the worst scenario.

At this point, I succumb to tears. And not dainty little tears that I can wipe away. I mean, heaving sobs. All of my weeks and months of preparation. My childbirth classes. Practicing my breathing. Every single daydream I had had about them placing Lierre on my chest and getting to hear her cry and look into her eyes and immediately nursing. All of that was gone in a poof it seemed. I had prepared for this moment for 9 months!... Actually, I was born to be her momma. I had been preparing for that moment since I was born.

This is where Tim returned---to see the nurse looking solemn, the doctor looking a little surprised, and me sobbing hysterically. A sobbing, sweating, pale, snotty mess. From the look on his face, I knew he assumed the worst--that something was wrong with Lierre. I gasped and gasped trying to pull myself together enough to reassure him. And I failed miserably. I actually cried harder, something I didn't think was possible. Thankfully they stepped in and started explaining everything to him. His first reaction was relief.... and then he had a very similar conversation with the doctor that I had had.

At what point is it convenient for the doctor verses it being a real medical issue you should trust your doctor with?

Our concern for Lierre trumped everything else and we eventually gave the ok for the c-section. Tim tried to reassure me, hug me, wipe the tears off my face. I swirled downward and wallowed in my disappointment and what was quickly becoming an overwhelming fear. I had never had a surgery before. Never, ever. I had never broken any bones, other than a finger and a pinky toe and they were minor. And here I was... almost 24 hours from the last time I had eaten, over 24 hours of not-sleeping, being told I'm about to go into major surgery.

I pulled myself together as best I could, we prepped ourselves, Tim got into his scrubs.... and then the doctor came back and said that the O.R. was full and we have to wait at least an hour and to not push. What. the. hell??! My body had been pushing for almost 3 hours at this point. The urge was still there. I was a mess. And then I was told to WAIT for at least AN HOUR when they can already see her HAIR? WHAT. We were furious and incredulous. The anesthesiologist came back and gave me more medicine (uhg) to make it so I would not feel the urge to push. I don't know what school these people went to, but just because I cannot feel the urge to push, does not mean my body is not naturally pushing on its own. Lemme tell ya--there's nothing like an hour and a half with nothing to do to really mess with your brain as you are driven mad with the urge to hold your baby and fear of what is to come. Just when we were about to demand something happen, they finally gave the OK for us to come back. But first I had to drink some nasty mess that would make the acid neutral in my stomach or something. The only flavor they had to this drink? Grape. I HATE grape. In fact, I had joked with my nurse earlier about it, and how grape medicine used to make me throw up as I was growing up. It tasted like Grape Kool-Aid mixed with ocean water. Bleckh.

I had been getting colder and colder and shaking harder and harder... the reason this time was that I had a fever of 100.2. Technically it's not considered a "fever" unless it is 100.4 so I still go the go ahead.

They moved along as I was becoming colder, more tired, more feverish, more afraid than ever. Tim was there walking beside the bed, trying to hold my hand, touch my head, whatever he could as we moved down the hall....

Lierre's Birth Story Part 1

Hey there. This will be long. So for all you people who don't feel like reading waaaay too much (Evan Simmons), here is the Reader's Digest version:

I started having contractions on Wednesday, August 15 around 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. We went to the hospital around 5:00 a.m. I progressed and then had a C-Section around 5:00ish p.m.. She was born at 6:33 p.m on August 16, 2012. The rest of the stay kind of stunk, but was alright. I had a fever at one point and an allergic reaction to something, but everything worked out. We came home around lunch on Monday the 19th (I think).

Now.... for those of you who want the nitty gritty details..... and many, many details, here we go! [I am not kidding. This will be long because this also serves as sort of a journal for me and little lady.]

THE BEGINNING/CONTRACTIONS
If you had been following along with our story, you know that I had been having some false labor contractions for a few days and one night even thought I was going into labor. I had finally given up on all induction methods and was just hanging out with Tim on Wednesday evening, watching TV. I had felt mildly crampy on and off throughout the evening, but I was NOT going to get my hopes (or Tim's) up again. I finally told Tim around 10:00 that I thought I was having a few contractions. He was instantly alert, but hesitant. I assured him not to time anything, that would be silly and let's just wait shall we? However, around midnight he mentioned again timing the contractions. This time I agreed and told him "They have an app for that." He got excited and found one that timed the contraction start to finish and told you how much time in between each contraction. We decided to try to go to bed and rest (hahahaha) and see if anything happened.

The first contractions he started timing were about 14 minutes apart I think. Nothing to get too excited about. After all, they had preached and preached about the 5-1-1 rule at our birthing classes endlessly. 5 minutes apart, lasting at least 1 minute in length, for at least one hour before heading to the hospital. They started out feeling sort of like menstrual cramps. Sort of. Enough to make me curl up in fetal position in the bed while we pretended to watch television. Welp. That didn't last long. I would like to line up every person who ever told me contractions felt like period cramps, look them each in the eye, and ask them why they lied to me. I guess the "cramp" feeling... like the worst period cramps or gas ever gave me the heads up that a contraction was about to start. Have you seen The Exorcist? Yeah, well.... the contortionist persona I took on when each contraction hit would put that to shame. I would start out almost dozing in the top right corner of the bed in fetal position and somehow end up on the bottom left of the bed, or the floor, or on top of Tim. My body would stretch and curl inward and twist of its own accord. I almost felt like I was watching myself, I had so little control or forewarning over what my body was about to do.

The contractions I felt hurt the WORST in.... my legs?? In all my classes, and in all the people I had talked to, and all I had read had warned me about stomach pain and potentially back pain.... but no one had told me about leg pain? The pain started in my stomach, like getting punched while wanting to have diarrhea (yeah, gross, but trying to paint a picture here), would radiate to my back, and then shoot down through my butt and thighs all the way to my knees. I had no idea what to do with that pain. Like the worst kind of fire combined with acid with a dose of being beaten by a baseball bat. My mantra to Tim was "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do." As soon as the contraction was over, I was completely normal again and Tim would try to tell me that I didn't have to know "what to do," that my body was already doing it. I just literally didn't know how to handle the pain or what "techniques" to use on my legs. I had also never cussed so much in my life. It was like I had been possessed by the most foul-mouthed sailor ever. I even texted my mom (it seemed like the best idea at the time): "Pardon me, but shit shit shit shit shit." I rarely cuss, and never in front of my mom, so...don't know why I thought that might help.

The contractions went to about 8 minutes apart, then to 5 minutes apart, then sporadic between 2 minutes and 5 minutes. I decided to eat a granola bar since they said you don't really get to eat when you get to the hospital. Not long after there was one point where I just sat up and said "I think I am going to throw up." I ran into the bathroom, leaned over the toilet and projectile vomited. Again, think Exorcist. I had told Tim earlier in the night that if I was to get sick, to just leave me alone. Yeah, he didn't listen. He tried to clean me up and the toilet and all the while I thought how horrible this situation was. And then the contractions would stop, my mind would clear, and I would regain a grip on the situation.

Now, in all my big plans, I had typed up a nice packing list. I had packed Lierre's bag, knew where most of Tim's stuff was....and had completely failed to pack anything for myself. This job fell to Tim when I realized how exhausted I was in between each contraction. Also in all of my nesting freak-outs prior, I told Tim that I did NOT want to come home to a dirty house. So...while I lay in the floor dying, Tim packed our bags and also cleaned up.... so sweet.... and yet I could have cared less at that time.

Tim called the doctor, we packed up the car, put Jack our dog in the car, and drove to my parents. We dropped off Jack.... or rather Tim did while I panicked alone. My mom and dad rushed out to give me a window hug, say a quick prayer and we were on our way.

THE HOSPITAL/active labor/pushing
We parked in the 10 minute parking spot to check in (I actually worried about this, that we would stay too long even though there were no other cars there) around 5:00 a.m. They checked everything & confirmed I was in labor (duh). The first people to arrive: Mom, dad, and my sister-in-law Kristin. It was very surreal as they wheeled me from the initial triage room to the delivery room. When I wasn't having contractions, I was thrilled and excited and nervous. When I was having contractions I couldn't think of much of anything at all.

I was so happy at this point of around 7:00 a.m. that I had stayed up all night and still had some energy. I was getting hungry, but was also kind of nauseous. My mom, dad, and kristin all came back to say good luck. My dad didn't say much...just looked kind of worried about me before high-tailing it to the waiting room. Mom and Kristin lingered and then proceeded to stay about an hour (I think? Time ceased to exist a little) and help Tim massage me and press on me while I thrashed around. Because they thought Lierre was sunny side up, I had to lay on my side with one leg pulled to my chest in hopes of turning her. I don't know why, but cervical checks hurt so so so so bad. Is that normal? I kept trying to refuse them but ended up getting them. Some time around lunch (12:00? 1:00? 2:00?), all plans of having a natural child birth went out the window and I got an epidural. I was 6 cm dilated. This is where the "lies" and my disappointment began. I HATE needles. They said they would talk me through each step of the epidural and that it would hurt so much less than my IV had. Nope, didn't tell me when they were doing anything so I jumped when they inserted the needle or tube or whatever and it hurt waaaay worse than the IV. Anyway, as I tried to ignore the fact I had yet another something sticking out of my body, the pain began to subside and I was blissfully unaware of the contractions.

Then I became aware of my overwhelming hunger, my nausea, and how we were about to become parents....holy cow. Mom and Kristin had left some time before then, so it was mostly just Tim, me, and our wonderful labor nurse. I kept "joking" how I was afraid of pushing and that I was going to have to get a C-Section at some point. She assured me over and over that that was unlikely, kept things up beat and tried to answer all of my questions ("Oh man, what if I poop while I try to push?!"). I don't know why, but I guess I had heard so many horror stories about tearing that I was more afraid of pushing than the contractions. Everyone said that was crazy, that pushing felt "good" and I needed to let that fear go. This didn't stop me from shaking (apparently shaking is normal in labor...something about hormones. Plus the epidural can do that. Plus I was freezing).

Anyways, we eventually decided it was time to start pushing!! Little did I know that pushing was not like television. You aren't constantly push, push, pushing without a break. You push a little.... wait... tell them you think you are ready to push again. The nurse was on one side, holding one leg and Tim was on the other side holding my other leg. Where was the doctor?! No where to be found. I was assured that she would come in shortly, but it was just the beginning so it was ok to push without her. I had little doubts scratching uncomfortably in the back of my mind. What about her supposedly being a big baby? What about her facing up? Has she turned yet? Am I doing this right? After about 30 minutes we decided my body wasn't quite ready and needed to "labor down" a little bit. Apparently my pushing wasn't quite good enough in the beginning--wasn't really ready for that one either. I guess I would have felt it more without the epidural, but I really was pushing a lot with my face.... I digress.

The pressure built up over those 30 minutes and we decided to try again. I pushed and pushed (and huffed and puffed) for about two hours. Where was the doctor? Nowhere to be found. Shouldn't someone besides this nice, really young nurse be checking me? Shouldn't she have come by? Has Lierre turned yet? During this time Tim and the nurse were both so very encouraging. Tim kept yelling at me to "get mad" because it helped me push better. They both told me they could see her hair and that thrilled me.... and terrified me that "the end" was so close.... and made me so impatient to hold my baby girl! We decided to take a little break from the pushing because so much time had passed....