After extensive talks with my OB and a honest talk
with myself, it was decided Mabel’s birth would be a scheduled c-section at 39
weeks gestation. It was a strange feeling coming to the realization that I
would never know what it feels like for my water to break, or to “give birth”
the route babies were originally made to exit, but I was looking forward to the promise that this experience would be much
smoother than last time. However, I was also skeptical, a side-effect from working for years in the NICU and knowing too much about all the things that can and do go wrong. I worried many times during my early pregnancy about true knots and nuchal cords, as I felt Mabel doing way more flips and turns than Dillon ever thought about. She flipped so much and so fast that sometimes I got that cool feeling in my stomach that you get when going down hill on a rollercoaster. I prayed hard every day for an uneventful delivery and healthy baby.
The night before meeting our baby girl, I squeezed my eyes
closed and tried to get a good night’s rest. Yeah right. Not only was it like
trying to sleep the night before Christmas when you’re 8 years old and can’t
think of anything other than sneaking a peak of Santa and the presents he
brought you, Dillon also must have had a 6th sense his world
was about to change, because he was up crying almost half of the night (a far
deviation from his normal). Oh well, right? It was merely one more night of crappy 3rd trimester sleep
before morphing back into the newborn routine, anyway.....and it was Dillon's last few moments of being THE baby, a concept that was barely even comprehendible for Patrick and I.
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| Leaving to have my "mole removed" |
Getting an epidural is much easier when you aren’t in severe
pain and having constant contractions! I laid down and let the medicine kick
in, Patrick assumed his role by my head, and the drapes went up for skin prep!
Things were finally starting to feel real. We would hold our baby girl for the
very first time any minute and I was completely coherent to remember all the
details this time. I loved my Nurse Anesthetist; she was so responsive, quick,
and most importantly funny.
Speaking of funny, Dr. B came in with his vibrant
self and as he was cutting my belly open, he was already asking me when I’m
going to have baby #3! What a nut. “Chill out, Dr. B.” I said, “I haven’t even
near forgotten the last 39 weeks yet.”
Moments later, a quarter past noon, our beautiful baby girl was filling the room with
the sweetest sound, a new voice the world has never heard before (weight: 7lbs 5oz, length: 19.75 in). Her nurse Patty, put her skin to skin on my chest and that little chunk reached directly into my
heart and stretched it even bigger than I could imagine, as she pooped all over
the place with her not-even-diapered-yet-self. Sweet, I know. But I didn’t care in the slightest. We were completely overwhelmed with instantaneous love,
the kind of love that can’t be bothered by silly distractions like meconium.
And if Mabel was a routine mole removal, she was the most precious wrinkled mole covered in hair (no, seriously, this girl still had lanugo on her backside and on the tops of her ears....it was so cute) and vernix (she was SUPER cheesy) I had
ever laid eyes on.
And just like that, we were a family of four.......and niether kid knew it yet (insert devious laugh)!
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