Untitled, for now

Only meeting once a day,
A lovers' rendezvous.
Our time together is cherished;
Not a moment overlooked.

Caress my body,
Stroke my hair,
Take away my shame.
When I am with you,
My troubles melt away.

Scald me.
Tempt me.
Make me new.
I'll use you until there is nothing left to give.

Oh - hot shower - how I love you.
Let me count the ways.

A few things I forgot about having a newborn

The sweet little sounds they make, from grunting when you change them to squeaking when you nurse them to the sweet little stutter-sighs they breathe when they're falling asleep.

The way they curl up on your chest, against your belly, or in your arms like a tiny little tree frog. Somehow, watching them squash themselves against you that way makes you believe beyond belief that you really did carry them for 39 weeks in your belly.

There's a very short list of things that could possibly be wrong.

Somehow, babies smell fresh. I've heard somewhere that it's because they just left Heaven. I'm not sure I buy that, but they sure do smell sweet.

You feel like a million bucks even though you only manage to snag an hour or two of sleep at a time. Under any other circumstances, you'd feel like poo.

Most everything about them is just. . . well. . . peaceful.

I love the look of recognition they get the first time they realize they're looking at mama.

Any time in the last 40 weeks that I was up in the middle of the night, it was a nuisance. Now? It's a blessing. I love, love, love the special, still, sweet moments in the middle of the night that I get to share with my angel. No interruptions. No audience. Just me and my girl.

My love for others multiplies tenfold. Seeing my husband with our daughter makes me remember a million reasons I fell in love with him that I'd somehow forgotten over the course of the last two years.

The way it feels to be completely, totally, genuinely in love with someone you know nothing about.

GO!

One minute post-op.

Four minutes post-op.

Ten minutes post-op.

One hour post-op.

Five hours post-op.

All that worrying for nothing. . .

Set

Well, my bag is packed.

I'm ready to go.

36 more hours to go.

I can't believe it's time to say hello!

Well your family's waiting to welcome you home.

Your room is ready - it's good to go.

In just awhile,

You'll be here in my arms.

So kick me and smile for me.

Cry your little lungs full for me.

I'll hold you and I'll never let you go.

'Cause I'm ready to meet my girl.

Ready to see your little curls.

Ready to kiss your precious face.

Tonight, my first wave of out-of-town help arrived. Aunt Georgie - my mom's middle sister and my mom-away-from-home while I was in college - arrived this evening. She's taking Daniel for the morning on Lia's birth day. They're going to make strawberry shortcake, play with tractors, and do whatever else occurs to them to help pass the hours until Daniel can meet his little sister. I can't believe how blessed we are to have such wonderful family and friends who are willing to lend a hand in SO many ways. My family rocks.

As nice as it is to have a plan in place, I can't help thinking how nice it would be if things would just start on their own. Dr. Abair has said that she wants to give Lia every opportunity to get unraveled and turn. Something in the back of my head (front of my head??) tells me that if we pull the trigger when we're ready to pull the trigger, there may have been a chance. If we cut at 8:15 on Friday, God may have planned on turning her at 8:15 on Saturday. All of that not withstanding, I guess we're all set, regardless of what may happen or what might have happened.

'Cause I'm ready to meet my girl.

Ready to see your little curls.

Ready to kiss your precious face.

Ready

I'm so very ready to have this baby. Not in the "my feet are swollen and I can't stand being pregnant for one more minute" sense. In the "I love the smell of Dreft and I can't wait to count her fingers and toes" sense. I did Lia's first load of laundry last Thursday. The tiny snaps from her onesies were banging out a cadence on the inside of the dryer. I looked at Doug and smiled fondly. I remembered that sound from nearly three years ago, when Daniel was little and still wore nothing but one-piece outfits.

I'm over-the-top excited to meet my baby girl. I'm looking forward to making new memories with her. I'm overwhelmed with a new sense of love I've never felt before - the opportunity to witness siblings bonding for the first time. Being an only child, this is all completely uncharted territory for me.

I've already warned Doug that I'm probably going to lose control in the OR. The moment I hear her cry and know that she's safe, my emotions and fears and apprehension are all going to come out in a flood of hysterics. I know it. I can see the tide coming in, but I don't care. I know too many people who have lost babies in the last 40 weeks. I know too many people who have been through horrible, nightmarish experiences in the last 40 weeks. I've seen too much hurt and heartache and loss. I know that the moment I lay eyes on my daughter, it's all coming out. There's no stopping it. But by God. I'm ready.

Tomorrow, again

Well, I go back to the OB one final time tomorrow morning. I know for a fact Lia has NOT turned. I know exactly where her head is and nope - it has not moved. Last week, I didn't get the answers I wanted. Yes, I have to fast. No, I may not eat afterwards. No, Gram cannot come into the OR. And no, Daddy cannot cut the cord. Worth a shot, right? My .2 pounds was enough to overshadow all of that, though!

This week, my questions are a little bit different. 1.) What time do I have to be where on Friday? Let's do this thing. 2.) What do I have to do to get out of there ASAP? I heard 48 hours. I want 48 hours. I want to be home for lunch on Sunday. 3.) How long do I have to wait before I can wear my baby in a sling?

That's all. Straightforward and simple. I realized today that having all of this time to dwell on the c-section and to prepare for it is probably what's making me so crazy (and irrational). Had they just said, "WHOA! Time to go!" and wheeled me through the doors, I wouldn't have had time to cry, complain, research, blog, and whine. It would have just been a done deal. I can't decide which way is better. Frantic and unaware? Or trying to do EVERY last little thing before we go in?

I decided today that Lia needs a birthday cake. Why?? She can't eat it. I can't eat it. But. That doesn't matter. We're going strawberry picking with our friends on Thursday and I MUST make a fresh strawberry birthday cake for my baby girl for her big day. Maybe I want the nurses to love me? Do I want Daniel to be able to sing "Happy Birthday" to his baby sister? I have no idea, I just know that she must have this cake. Who knows. Maybe I'll understand the why of it later. For now, I'm calling it "the universe of irrationality." For now, it's hormonal and stupid, but it absolutely must be.

At any rate, tomorrow will come again and we'll see the doc one last time before Lia's birth day. Perhaps there's something I haven't thought of, but at this point, I seriously doubt it.

One final note - we went to the beach yesterday. Here's a pic. I love my pregnant belly. I'm sure going to miss it.

Update

Well, she didn't come unraveled, but I did only gain .2 pounds this week. If that's not news worthy, I don't know what is!