On May 23 I woke up at 3:30 am to do that thing that pregnant women do often. On my way I felt a trickle run down my leg and suspected my water had broken. They tell you that if you aren't sure it's your water that you should lay down for a while, at least 20 minutes, and if you have more when you get back up then it's definitely your water, so that's what I did, and by all appearances it wasn't my water. At this point I couldn't sleep any more, I tried, but I just kept tossing and turning. About two hours later I started having pretty intense contractions, they were tough to breathe and talk through, but not super regular or close enough together. Lawrence woke up and asked if he should get the boys up, I told him not to. About 6:30 I started packing my hospital bag, it was on the to-do list and I wasn't sleeping, so why not? Lawrence watched me stop every 8 or so minutes for a contraction. I still didn't want him to get the boys since I didn't really think this was it, I was NOT about to get sent home for false labor. The boys woke up at their usual time, 8am and as they did so I raced to the bathroom, this time I was sure it was my water. I called my mom, finished packing, loaded the kids in the car, and we were off to the hospital. When we got there the nurses got me into triage, checked me out and informed me that I was much further along than I thought I was. They rushed me to a delivery room and called anesthesia as quickly as they could. My epidural went in at about 9:30. I was able to rest a little, have an Italian ice, and soon it was time to push. My doctor was still out of town, so the on-call doctor had to deliver Baby Girl. After my first push it became apparent to me that the epidural wasn't quite working right, I could feel everything except the contractions. Two pushes (and a lot of encouraging talk from Lawrence and the nurses) later Baby Girl came out screaming. I held her on my chest and cried.
She was perfect, ten fingers, ten toes, a face just like her siblings, 8 lbs. 1oz (my smallest), 20.5 inches long, and dark hair. That's right, dark, like my natural color, no real hint of red. To say we were surprised would be an understatement. It was certainly not a bad surprise, and she is beautiful. She nursed great and slept well, and just begged to be snuggled.
Then came the wait. Before J was born I never thought I would pray for something like a stinky diaper, but here I was, praying hard for that very thing. After about 12 hours I started to get really nervous. Then, at about 18 hours old it happened, and we had a little party. Yep, I said it, we had a celebration for a poopy diaper.
After that we were allowed to go home, we stayed in the hospital just over 24 hours.
Mr. E and Baby J (He needs a new nickname) are head over heels in love with their baby sister, they think she is "SOOO cute!" and we tend to agree.
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