So Here's What Happened...

Summer got away from me. I was way too busy being pregnant, then birthing a child, then being in survival mode. And summer ended. Just like that. I can't believe the last blog I wrote was three months ago! Summer had barely begun. So much has happened. So let's just start with the good stuff, July 16. Brooke fell off our bed.

I lunged to catch her.

I thought I had just pulled a muscle - because, you know how pregnant stomach muscles are. But it soon enough began feeling like contractions. They were not that intense, but different from the Braxton Hicks contractions I'd been feeling for the last few weeks. Yet similar too. I was so confused. I figured it was nothing. I just hurt something or kick-started some Braxton Hicks as I caught Brooke when she fell. We went about our day, organizing and getting things ready for the baby. Blah blah, boring day. Went to bed and the contractions stopped.

I woke up at 5am the next morning with some stronger contractions. But since they had stopped over night, I figured it was still nothing. So we went to the grocery store.

It was in front of the orange juice that I stopped for a contraction and had to lean on my cart until it was over. Still, I thought it was nothing. I'm sure the Tropicana OJ cartons would tell a different story.

We got home and called the doctor. He said to head to the hospital when the contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and lasting more than a minute. Got it! I downloaded an app on my iphone to help me time contractions (what a great idea, Labor Mate!). Then I took a nap.

I woke up and the contractions were not slowing down, but not getting worse either. This can't be the real thing. So we headed up to my parents to watch the end of the women's soccer world cup (we couldn't watch it at home because we cut our cable to try to help us afford our children). Scott helped my dad with some farm things (funny, right?), I watched the end of the game in disbelief, and then headed outside, all the while contracting. I pushed Brooke on the swings and walked around and talked to my sister-in-law who told me I was in labor. I didn't believe her. I was timing them on my iphone - they were inconsistent, 6 minutes, then 10 minutes, then 14 minutes then 8 minutes. And none of them were lasting more than a minute in length. It's not the real thing. Plus, every time I had one, I purposefully found someone to talk to and then I'd say, "see, I can still talk through them. It's not the real thing". Denial. Denial. Denial.

With Brooke, my water broke and I went to the hospital, had a few contractions and got my epidural. Easy as pie. I didn't know what contractions really felt like, other than the couple hours I experienced them with Brooke.

So, we got home. I put Brooke to bed. I never put Brooke to bed. But something made me feel like it would be the last few moments we would have together as just me and her. (That something that made me feel that way was probably the baby inside of me trying to get outside of me - but I didn't know that at the time).

Soon after I had a really BAD contraction. Scott called the doctor. He was still hemming and hawing about us going to the hospital. He was literally the last doctor I wanted to be on call the day I gave birth. But, just our luck, it was him. Scott told him that we were coming in.

But first, I had to eat dinner. Once we entered the hospital, there'd be no food. So, we heated up the taco soup my sister made for me. Taco soup was the meal my sister made for us the night before Brooke was born, so obviously that's what sent me into labor with Brooke. My sister and I had planned on me having it this night too, in hopes it would bring on labor. Too bad I was already laboring.

When we finally got to the hospital, the contractions were less than 5 minutes apart. The nurse said I was 6 or 7 centimeters. I said, "shut up!" Very rude of me, I know, but I couldn't believe it. I thought for sure I was not in labor. Guess I was wrong. We called Anna and told her to get there as soon as possible. I then told the nurse to call the anesthesiologist because I wanted an epidural. The nurse looked concerned and said they might not be able to get there in time. Panic set in.

They took me to a room, and the nurse walked back in and said that she checked the measuring chart and that I was actually more like 8 cm. Shut up, again! It was not looking good for my epidural. The doctor got there, no epidural, I pushed three times, and Karis was born at 10:47pm. Less than an hour after getting to hospital. Good thing we got there when we did.

I definitely glazed over the whole shaking uncontrollably, pain, screaming (who knew I'd be a screamer while giving birth? Not me.), being so incredibly scared and the doctor being a jerk saying, "woman have been doing it for years without an epidural" and me thinking, "do not even start with me..."

I'll have to write a whole other blog to discuss the lack of an epidural and it's effects on me, but this is a happy place and a happy story.

Anna made it to the hospital a tad bit late. She wasn't there for the birth. So sad. But she was there right after to help me through the recovery that night. I love my nurse Anna! Baby girl Beebe was nameless for the first day of her life. Scott gave in to my love of the name, "Karis" after watching me go through the birth sans drugs. So there is one perk to come from the whole thing! Karis passed all of her tests with flying colors and is the sweetest baby. Brooke loves her. We love her.

Even though her entry into the world wasn't what I had thought it would be, she is definitely worth going through it 10 more times over, but not 11, that'd be pushing it. Just kidding, I'd totally do it 11 more times...but not 12.

LOVE HER!