Bringing Home Baby

I have a bad habit. Ok, maybe I have a few. But one of those bad habits is wishing away experiences in my life instead of savoring the sweet moments and embracing all aspects presented through those experiences. When I learned that I was pregnant in March, I vowed to myself that I would treasure up all the sweetness and magic that is pregnancy, in anticipation that there shall be no more for me. But I'll be darned if the moment I started noticing changes to my body that I found to be unpleasant, I didn't start wishing the months away.

I don't know where they went, the past nine months. Time goes so quickly, and before I knew it, I was within weeks of my due date. Somehow, I just expected our little lady to join the family early, as in when I was around 37 weeks. Ha! She must have known what she was getting herself into and tried to hide out as long as possible. As the weeks ticked by and my obstetrician suggested setting a date for induction, I held out hope that I would spontaneously go into labor before my due date. I really hate choosing my babies' birthdays by planning an induction. It just seems so....unnatural. But then, a week away from that all-important due date, I caved. We set my induction date for November 14. I still had time to go into labor on my own, but it wasn't to be. So early in the morning, Wednesday November 14, Paul and I headed to the hospital and left the boys to be sent off to school with Mimi. The labor was nearly perfect, really. It was the most relaxed experience of the three. I officially got started on the Pitocin around 7:00, was able to manage the pain quite nicely through breathing and mentally convincing myself that the pain wasn't that severe, and finally decided to accept the epidural before I was out of my mind in pain. Epidurals and I, we aren't the best of friends. Epidural #1 (Sam)- got it too late, didn't get to even use it, ended up with a spinal headache. Epidural #2 (Nathanael)- it only took on one side of my body. Epidural #3 (baby girl)- also only took on the right side of my body. So, the anesthesiologist hand-injected a much larger dose of medicine to try to force it to spread out to the left side (which it never did even out, though I was able to become comfortable), thus resulting in a numb arm, chest, and a Frankenstein eye which did not look nice in those first pictures of baby and me. After the epidural, I was able to rest for a very brief time before the baby was ready to be born. My nurse, becoming aware that I was about to give birth, left my room to go look for my doctor, who had been in surgery delivering another baby. Nurse told me to press my call button if anything happened while she was out. No sooner had she left my room then I had my next contraction and pressed my call button. She and my doctor came rushing in and three contractions later, at 12:42 pm (right in time for lunch, hallelujah!), weighing in at 8 pounds 9 ounces (that was a surprise) and 21 1/4 inches long, my beautiful baby girl was born.

And we shall call her Claire Julia. Lest there be any confusion, that's Ju-lee-a as opposed to Jewl-ya. Yes, there's a difference, yes it matters to me, yes I have strong opinions about it. It's my legal name, I'm entitled to strong opinions. Ju-lee-a, pretty. Jewl-ya, gross. Nonetheless, how often will anyone say her middle name anyway?
I love giving birth. I truly do. The whole process is so surreal, but particularly that moment when their little body slips into this world. It's such an awesome experience. Part of me feels like I just can't have experienced that for the last time. But then, you've got to stop somewhere and three seems like the right place for us. I got my daughter. The daughter I always longed for. She is beautiful. She is sweet. We are so in love- her mommy, her daddy, and her big brothers.