firsts

The last two weeks have brought us many firsts. Lia's first bath (which she mostly slept through), Lia's first trip to Froberg's (which she slept through), our first time eating out with two kids (which led to), my first time nursing in public, and Lia's first photo shoot (which I'm still anxiously awaiting the results!).

In addition to all of Lia's firsts, daniel also snuck one in on us. He actually napped somewhere that wasn't home. We managed to get a nap in at Buddy and Gram's, which led to wonderful moods all around. Hooray for my big boy becoming more of a big boy!

birth day

3/18/11

6:15 am
Doug and I arrived at the hospital with strawberry birthday cake, a bag full of essentials for a weekend holiday at St. John Hospital, and a stomach full of knots. Well, my stomach was in knots; Doug's was full of coffee. A group of nurses greeted us as we shuffled in the Center for New Life. They showed us to 214 and I quickly became the talk of the second floor. Not only had I brought birthday cake (clearly something none of them had seen before), but I also walked through the door demanding to know what I had to do to go home. Clearly, another first.

Veronica and Elizabeth got me all hooked up to the monitors, started my IV, and did all of the routine check-in things. Dr. Abair had one last look at Lia to make sure her head was still up. Then I met Dennis. Dennis was my anesthesiologist who definitely missed his calling as a comedian. So. Funny. He had me laughing the entire time. Well, except for when he was wiping my tears, but that part comes later.

By this point, I was a complete bundle of nerves. I could still hear Lia's heart on the monitor, but I still had a million things on my mind that could or might go wrong. My legs were shaking. My stomach was in knots. My mind was racing a trillion miles a minute.

8:20
My c-section was scheduled for 8:15. By 8:20, they were rolling me down the hall to the OR. I've only ever seen ORs on Grey's, Chicago Hope, ER, and at the Debakey Center. For those of you who have been in other ORs, imagine my shock at what a "real" OR looks like. Tiny. No fancy observation deck. No separate scrub room for all of the drama to happen. And man. That table was skinny! It was a darn good thing I only gained 25 pounds or i may have rolled right off!

Enter Dennis. Again. He got my drugs started and they got me situated on the table. Dennis started making inappropriate jokes and I laughed nervous (but genuine) laughter. Up went the drape and the show started.

At this point, I kind of started to freak out (but only in my head). I'd been warned by a few people that the anesthesia might make me feel . . . odd. indeed. I managed to get through the Lord's Prayer a few times while breathing as deeply as I could, which took the edge off.

I told Dennis, "Dennis? I know this sounds stupid - because I can't see them or feel them - but I don't really like the angle my legs are laying." Dennis peered over the drape, looked at me upside-down, and said, "Your legs? They're perfectly straight." I felt silly for having said anything, but Dennis just chuckled.

8:54
Official start time - 8:54. A dear friend had warned me about "the smell" in the OR. She said it would smell like "my insides." The minute they "cut," I realized what the smell was - burning skin. So much for a scalpel; these people use lasers! I'm assuming that's why my scar is so precise (and tiny). I'm not sure that my dear friend realizes that she wasn't smelling her guts, but I am thankful for the warning!

About that time, somebody mentioned that somebody should go get daddy. Thank God. Dennis - in his infinite inappropriate humor - suggested that one of the nurses go pry him away from the three blondes in the hall. Ha. Ha ha.

As soon as Doug came in, my nerves settled immediately. I think he was probably as nervous as I was (and just as freaked out by seeing me on that table), but the ever-cool facade brought me down a few notches. We bantered back and forth about Heaven knows what and I think I reminded him to take a picture of the clock at least a dozen times.

Dennis nudged Doug and told him to get his camera ready. He fumbled around for just a second and assumed the photography position. "Get ready!" Dennis chanted. My poor, sweet, dear husband... He was poised and ready to get "the shot" of Dr. Abair holding Lia over the drape. Something Dennis said triggered him early and he wound up missing that shot and somehow managed to snap a stellar photo of Dr. Abair suctioning Lia's mouth while holding her a mere hair's breadth above my fileted abdomen. Score one for daddy!

When Daniel was born, my mother accidentally took a photo of the placenta. We've teased her mercilessly for the last 2.75 years over this. No more! Nothing quite tops a picture of your guts...

9:02

As predicted, I heard Lia'a cries and lost it. Not nearly as bad as I thought I would, but I cried and cried. "Thank God; thank you, God," must have come out of my mouth a hundred times. Doug was pretty much immediately whisked over to Lia while they continued to work on me. "She's got your ears!" Doug proudly announced from the other side of the OR. "My ears?? That's all I get are the ears?"

Dennis kindly wiped my tears away (as my arms were strapped down) and somehow managed to wrestle Lia away from the nurses. He unwrapped my arms and gently laid Lia on my chest. The waterworks continued and Dennis took the first photo of Lia and her proud parents.

10:00

By 10 a.m., they were rolling me back down the hall to my room, just as Dr. Abair had promised. Dennis made some crack about having just gone through bypass surgery. We laughed again and I thanked him sincerely as he left me to recover with my nurses. I beat my entire family back to the room. By the time they got back with Lia, all that was left was positive, loving, happy beyond belief emotions. All the anxiety was gone. My fears totally unnecessary. My perfect little family complete.

That's the story of Lia's entrance into the world. If only the next year would go just as smoothly... We are blessed beyond measure and so thankful for Lia and those who helped get her here.

Our little angel.

commitment

I have (shockingly) decided to start my own business - selling Mary Kay. The what, why, who, how, and when of that story will come another day. For now, this is my commitment to myself and to my family:

- The first $50 I make will go back into the checking account to cover the cost of starting up.
- Of every check I receive after that first $50, 10% will go directly to God.
- Until our savings account reaches our family goal, the remaining 90% will go back into savings.
- Once our savings account has been restored, the additional 90% will go toward our debt (our truck note and personal loan).
- Unless there are dire circumstances, no further debt will be incurred until said debts are paid off.

This is my commitment. If I break my word to myself, that's pretty pitiful indeed.

Here goes nothin'.

little pieces of the puzzle

Last night was awful. The longest stretch of sleep I got - prior to 4 am - was 45 minutes. I called my mommy, almost in tears, and begged her to come over to help. She brought my daddy, of course, who lovingly took Daniel to the park. Lia and I immediately crawled into bed and snoozed the morning away. I fell asleep in an instant and woke up in a much better state of mind.

And smelled burning plastic. I always sleep with the baby monitor. It's right by my pillow so that on nights where I sleep in six- and nine-minute stretches, I can open one eye just enough to see what's going on. I picked it up to move it and all but burned the skin right off my hand. Even though it was turned off, the darn thing was so hot that the plastic stand had melted to the back of the monitor. What the heck?

When Doug got home, he took it apart to discover that the battery had ruptured and the plastic had warped. Yup. We were probably moments away from setting our bed on fire.

When I looked back on the day (and preceding terrible night), I was suddenly thankful. See, had we had a good night, we were going to go to Froberg's to pick berries. If we had had a good night, I would have been several miles from home when the battery pack ruptured and set my home ablaze. Had we had a good night, I would've come home to a smoldering slab and charred fur babies and a totally destroyed home, dream, and life.

But we had a rough night. In this case, I'm beyond thankful for the sleepless night. Today, I am thankful for best-laid plans and dark circles under my eyes. And yet again, I am thankful for a God who loves me enough to protect me even when I don't even realize I need to be protected.

old

I plucked a hair from my chin today; the first one I've ever been aware of. I shuddered when I did it. I must be getting old. My blog posts are about showers, sleep, and stray hairs - which clearly means I'm either old or the mother of a newborn. Or possibly both...

Regardless, I need to get around to writing out Lia's birth story, but I've been too busy pining for sleep and trying to keep my family running.

The birth story itself is short. Eight minutes to be exact. The build-up is slow and painful (and whiny) and several days worth of reading. The way she's changed our lives over the past 18 days is pretty unreal (and amazing) and worth several future blogs.

For now, I'm going to attempt to get a bulk of 3/18 down 'on paper.' Doing that between middle-of-the-night feedings while typing one-fingered, I just might get the story told before she turns one. Here goes nothing...

sleep

He does not escape me;
he merely plays tag.
Jokingly. Without malice.
Just within my reach.

He lets me catch him,
A sweet moment of triumph.
I am sustained.
Never satisfied.

We part reluctantly,
Children on the playground,
Longing for each other's company.
Reunited, we have all but learned to do without.