Our Lillie Donna Smylie. 9lbs 2oz, 21" long. 06-28-08.
She is here. I am in a deep love all over again. I love everything. The pacifiers, the milk comas, even the little digestive system that is working in full force! I love her. Her neck smells like an angel and she is the most beautiful thing (along side G and R) I've ever seen.
It is impossible to keep this short:
I woke up at the beach house on Saturday, June 28th (two days past my due date) at 4a.m. with contractions about 10 minutes apart. They ached, so I knew they were much different than the others I had been having for months. I stayed awake with them for a couple of hours, and finally woke Jake and told him to pack up our things since we needed to drive an hour and a half toward home and the hospital, possibly. Contractions continued, and by 9 a.m. we were back in town and in the hospital with them 5 minutes apart. I was dilated to 3-4 cm. and kept laboring, walking the hospital halls for an hour. They checked me again and I had not dilated any further. I was then informed that I was not in active labor and, "Honey, you'll know when you are because you won't be SMILING, ok?" I was like, "Do you want to fight?" But, we took our things and went home, frustrated, still having crampy contractions about 6-10 minutes apart.
I went to my mother-in-law's for a few minutes, hoping to take a bath and relax and then decided to go home and stick with Jake and those noisy energetic girls that are my other daughters. It was around 1pm. For the next few hours I ate chocolate, baked some bread and tried to pass the time. I read some labor stories on the internet and really thought that my labor was fake and that it was going to go away and I would be pregnant forever. You know, those kind of rational thoughts.
This is where the fun begins. I was on the phone at 6:10pm when my water broke. Two distinct pops and small gush. There was no mistaking it. I was so excited and I believe I even squealed in delight. This meant that I wouldn't. be. pregnant. forever. Wonderful! Jake started moving around erratically getting our things together. We took a few photos of Grace's new gap and I BLOGGED. Hey, I figured, my water broke with Grace and she wasn't born until 14 long hours later, so I thought I had at least a little bit of time. But no. People, I didn't have time. I wish I would have known.
Contractions get strong, they get fast, they get close together. We put things in the car and wait for Jake's sister to show up to watch the girls. Suddenly, I felt some very strange pains. I tell Jake we need to leave NOW. We put the girls in the car and drive a couple of blocks to a parking lot where Jake's sister meets us. I am squinching my eyes shut by now from the strong pain that is taking over my body so quickly. It is 6:38pm when we leave the parking lot, heading to the hospital. We drive for another 5 minutes and I get my first bearing down contraction. As in I feel like I need to push a baby out of my body. This is not a pleasant feeling, especially since I'm in the passenger seat of a mini-van.
Contractions are right on top of each other and Jake is passing people illegally in the turn lane. At this point he thinks I'm in tremendous pain but does not know the extent. I am groaning and moaning. We pull into the hospital parking garage, I get out of the car, stand up and start pushing right then and there. I couldn't help it. I was trying not to. Jake was panicked, with hospital bags in his hands, poised at the elevator, looking at me in total shock. It was then he realized this could happen right here instead of upstairs with the doctors and nurses. That contraction passed and I waddled to the elevator. He ran to get me a wheelchair when we got out of the elevator, I sat down, I tried to [not] push her out in the wheelchair. It was very, very hard not to. I was making weird noises, Jake was sprinting pushing me as fast as he could down the hall. Back in the elevator to go upstairs. Baby is coming. Now. People are staring. Feel like we are in a movie.
Finally get upstairs, nurses help us into a room, I get out of the wheelchair and say very loudly that I want an epidural. I know in the back of my mind that it's too late. Too late for anything. But I ask anyway. Nurse tells me to sit on the bed. I say no I have to push. I am standing up next to the bed, gripping the mattress, literally feeling like the baby is going to fall out and if I sit down I will sit on her head. That contraction finally eases up just enough to rip my street clothes off, get a robe on, and lie on the bed (6:56p.m.). One nurse says, "Honey, we need to check you!" She doesn't even touch me, takes one look down there and says "She's complete! Sorry, but you're not getting an epidural!" Jake says later that he could see her head crowning. At this point, the whole room explodes with commotion and the doctor comes speed walking in the room and only has time to put on one glove. The nurse is then telling me not to push yet. I yell at her that I can't help it! One little push and her head is out (6:58p.m.)! Extreme euphoric pain, but relief and happiness is right around the corner, I can feel it.
The cord was wrapped around her neck twice (I had my eyes shut tight through this part) and she didn't cry right away. I delivered the rest of her body and she was then thrust onto my chest. I cried then. I cried for my beautiful new daughter, cried in relief, in shock. Jake cried, we both knew that this was a turning point in our lives. It was the most bonding thing we've ever been through. After that, it was a blur. They weighed her and I think somebody took my blood pressure. They had me sign all the forms I was supposed to sign before I was treated. Donna and Ashley were supposed to have been in the room for the birth, but were only minutes behind us and missed it entirely. They came in literally 5 minutes after she was born and started taking photos and video (thank you!!).
I am feeling good. Everyone has been so helpful to us! Our family couldn't have been more kind, thoughtful and generous. It is good to be so loved! My head is in this weird fog and everything in my life seems to look blurry except that sweet little face of my new baby Lillie. She was worth it. Life could not possibly get any better than this.
Today I'm posting this photo because it represents something. Me, looking down on Lills. Not able to squat any longer. Normally, I get down on her level anytime I'm taking her photo, but that time has passed. It is very hard for me to come out of a squat. I usually have to go onto one knee and use a hand to push off the ground. I'm just sayin', times are changing.
