Since I have to come up with 12 unique posts for you, I thought maybe I’d take this month and tell you about the day you were born. We don’t have anything on camera of your birth and only a handful of pictures from your birth day, so I’ll try to tell you the story as vividly as possible.
Your dad and I got married on September 30, 2006. Ethan was 18 months old, and about a month or so after the wedding, we discussed me going off birth control to “start trying” to “maybe” get pregnant. Well, a couple of weeks later, on November 17, 2006, I took the test. Pregnant! I remember waking him up and just crying. I wasn’t expecting to get pregnant so fast! But after a good cry and him half asleep still not sure what exactly was going on, I was excited.
When I was pregnant with you, I worked as a wound and admissions nurse at a rehab facility. Busy, busy job, but it was fine with me. I loved it. Patients were always oohing and ahhing over my belly, asking all the typical questions. I worked right up until the day I had you! I remember one instance in particular, I was about 38 weeks pregnant, and I had an ornery patient who kept rolling himself out of bed about every five minutes, onto his knees. It was getting SO exhausting heaving his body back into the bed (okay, not heaving. but you get the idea). I remember after about the 10th or 11th time in just a few hours, I knelt down next to his bed, got really close to his face and said, “Hey, listen. I’m nine months pregnant. If there’s any way we can be done with this for the day, that would be great…” in my best “Office Space” voice. He laughed and laughed and promptly rolled himself onto his knees again. Ha! I liked working and keeping busy while pregnant, though, and I was always thankful for that.
Well, one night, I remember having contractions through the night. They would wake me up, but I’d just go right back to sleep. By the time Ethan woke me up that morning, I started timing the contractions and decided to “just on the safe side,” head into the hospital to get checked. I told Daddy to stay home with Ethan, because I was sure that it was just a false alarm. I was 38 weeks and 5 days along. I checked myself in to triage, had some small talk with Aunt Nansie on the phone, called work and said “I probably won’t be in today, but if something changes, I’ll let you know!” Turns out I was dilated to five, and you were gonna come that day! July 18, 2007. I called Daddy and told him to get to the hospital, and Aunt Nansie and Grandma too. We were all so excited!
I don’t remember exactly the turn of events, but I knew my OBGYN and the anesthesiologist were both in the same C-section, and no one was available to do my epidural. I was hurting pretty badly, so I knew labor was moving along quite quickly. Finally, Dr. Boyer (the baby doctor) came in and said “Hey! Just got out of surgery, the anesthesiologist is right behind me. We’ll get you settled.” The rest of the delivery was a blur with a handful of clear memories, so I’ll tell you what I remember…
I remember the nurse telling the doctor that the baby was having decels (a dip in your little heart rate). That’s worrysome, so they turned me on my left side and put oxygen on me to help me breath better.
They then did let me sit up for the quickest epidural ever. Daddy wasn’t allowed in the room, so the nurse held my hand, helping me breath through it the whole time.
I immediately laid back down for them to place the internal fetal heart monitor on your little tiny baby scalp. They were worried about both of us!
I remember the epidural wasn’t going into effect fast enough. I kept yelling at Daddy to “hit the button! hit the button!” His face was white as a sheet.
I remember Dr. Boyer getting in my face and saying, “Sarah, stop screaming. Listen to me. She’s having a hard time in there, we gotta start pushing now. You’re dilated to 8, but you’ll push through that to a 10 in no time. You have to do this. If you don’t do this now, we’re gonna have to roll you down quickly for a C-section. So please, let’s do this. I know you can do this.”
I remember my Aunt Nansie and Grandma anxiously trying to come into the room to see me (last they’d heard, I was just being admitted and wasn’t in active labor), and my doctor shut them out telling them no one was allowed in. She’s usually the sweetest woman ever, so to see her so abrasive with my family really worried me.
I remember the room all of a sudden being flooded with people. Extra delivery nurses, extra NICU staff. I remember looking over and seeing a friend of mine from high school standing nearby. Awkward. Turns out she was a NICU nurse and on shift that day. Bet she wasn’t planning on seeing that much of me that day.
I remember pushing with the oxygen mask on, fogging up my face, telling them I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it, couldn’t do it. Too hard, hurt too hard, the epidural wasn’t working.
I remember Dr. Boyer sayings something about using the vacuum to get you out quickly. I remember the snip. And that’s all I’ll say about that.
Then… I remember you. You came after exactly three pushes and some help from the little vacuum on your perfect little head.
My baby girl. Seven pounds, eight ounces of perfect.
And I remember looking at your daddy (who was still white as a sheet and looked ready to completely hit the floor any second) and saying, “We’re never having any more kids.” Haha!
You scared us all to death! But man, were you pretty. The most petite little thing with the most gorgeous features. I was so in love with you from the start. Couldn’t stop staring at you. Head over heels.
I love you so much, sis. Even as scary as the delivery was, so thankful you came out pink, screaming, and healthy as can be. I’ll never stop thanking God for you.
Can’t believe you’ll be seven years old in just a few short months. Such an amazing girl you are.