For the third time in my life, I am charged with the care and feeding of a three-year-old. Miss Noob turned three years old at 8:03 CST this morning. She's been positively delightful on most days. She's always had pretty much everyone she meets wrapped around her tiny little pinky finger. I think Paw Paw has had the worst time with it; after all, we named Noob after Paw Paw's mama. And after King Waffle's mama, too. At any rate, it's like she has some sort of magic coming off her most of the time. It's like in a cartoon where you see little glowing twinkles around a character and it just encompasses their aura and their being. This is what it's like when you're around Noob. There's just something about her.
The day she was born was not supposed to be the day she was born. She wasn't "due" until March 15th. But, due to a prior c-section with Slick, all the physicians I encountered throughout my pregnancy felt that another c-section would be the safest course of action. I begged and pleaded with anyone who would give me the time of day to please, please, PLEASE not make me have another c-section. I had some post-partum complications and wound up getting a pretty bad infection in my incision. Not to mention that it just HURTS. However, no one would hear of such nonsense and I was scheduled to be sliced and diced on Monday, March 5th, 2007.
On February 24th, I knew that I only had a little over a week before she would be here. I set out that day with a list of things I needed to replenish my baby gear, the most important of which was a car seat for her to ride home in. I'd given my old one away and now needed a new one. I went to the mall and walked and walked and walked and then walked some more to acquire everything I needed. Then I hit Babies R Us and did more walking and shopping and lifting. Then I hit Target and did still more walking and shopping. I went home and crashed because I was so exhausted. I was 36 weeks, 5 days at this point. I woke up Sunday and had that hurty, crampy feeling. I truly just credited it to the previous day's shopping expedition. I went all through Sunday and did okay. Later that night, we were scheduled to take the hospital tour because I'd never delivered at this particular hospital. We show up and take the tour and all the while I had a nagging pain that just wouldn't quit. Nothing major but it was just enough to make you remember it was there. I asked one of the nurses if she could check me out before we left and she informed me that I'd have to be admitted to be checked. I told her that I thought I'd be fine and we headed home.
We got home and tucked Poodle and Slick into bed. We turned in for the night and I woke up on Monday, February 26th at about 5 AM with what had to be contractions. They were coming about every five minutes. I was sitting in the recliner, timing them, and King Waffle came out to check on me. I said I thought I'd be okay and he went to lay back down. Just a few minutes later, I walked into the bedroom and said something I said when we were getting ready for Poodle's birth: "Let's just go. The worst they can do to us is send us back home."
At this point, I have to mention the fact that it was Monday morning. In metro Atlanta, Georgia. Monday morning + rush hour + Georgia Hwy 400 = horrible traffic nightmare. I told King Waffle "let's just go" at 6:45 AM.
We got loaded up and started our 23 mile journey to the hospital. Around mile 15, the traffic gets THICK because some pretty heavily congested streets are all trying to get into that traffic nightmare as well. We had been stop and go pretty much the whole way there. When we got to this point it was more stop and less go and by this time my contractions were about two minutes apart. It took us a solid hour to travel 23 miles.
We finally arrived at the hospital and I was told to "sit in those chairs and wait" while KW got me all registered and admitted. Well, "sit in those chairs and wait" turned into "get her a wheelchair NOW!" after about three minutes of me sitting there groaning. I was put into a little prep room while the nurse took some history. I felt more relaxed to be laying down and could actually converse fairly normally. While KW waited in the hallway with Poodle and Slick, she helped me get changed and quizzed me to make sure I wasn't being beaten at home or anything like that. When she was all done she had me lie back down and started trying to get my IV going. She invited KW and the kids back into the room. The doctor on call poked his head in the room and says, "Hey there! We're gonna get you all taken care of around 10:30. I've got three other sections I gotta do before you and then we're gonna squeeze you in." He was gone as quickly as he came and I just looked at KW and said, "I ain't gonna make it to 10:30." No sooner had I said that, a BIG, HARD contraction happened. Up until this point, I'd been relatively calm and just groaned through the pain. This one made me really yell, so much so that I scared the kids and they were ready to exit in a hurry. Nice nurse stops trying to get my IV going and starts doing a check to see how far along I am. She yells to the other nurse, "She's a nine and her bag of waters is bulging!!!" No sooner than KW got them out the door did another one come and I knew before it happened what it would bring: *sploosh* my water broke.
Nice Nurse grabbed a sheet and threw it over my legs, barked at Other Nurse to help NOW!, and we busted through the door like we were on fire. We went tearing down the hall like we were on a bobsled team! They got me to a room and parked the bed next to a delivery bed. The next words I heard were a little unbelievable and almost made me laugh: "We need you to scoot from this bed onto that bed." *scoff* Yeah right. However, something in me summoned the strength and courage to scoot over and I did. No sooner than I slid into place did I get that urge to push. I pushed once...*bloop* head out! I pushed again...*bloop* It's a girl!!!
My next words were, "Can someone please go get my husband?" A few moments later, Nice Nurse showed up with KW and my other two children. There we were, one big happy family.
I am still grateful to this very day for being able to give birth naturally and in the precise manner I wanted to do so. I don't know if I'll ever have another child, but I'll fight just as hard to have that next one the same way I had this one. Don't be afraid of letting your body do what it was designed to do. Don't be afraid to be in just a little bit of pain for a very short while. It's more like pressure than pain, really. Experiencing natural childbirth is a blessing and a gift and I truly believe everyone should make the effort to at least attempt to give birth as God intended. Without drugs (which can slow labor down), without epidurals (which, if given incorrectly, could paralyze you), without anything to hinder the body's natural processes of delivering a little piece of Heaven right into your waiting arms.
I love my sweet Noob. I hope she lives to be 103. Happy Birthday, my darling!
Here she is then, just moments old:
And here she is now: