Isn’t it amazing when God hands you precisely what you need at the just the right moment.  For me phenomenon this has never been more obvious that with the birth of our newest little addition.  My life as mom of our Angel Seth and 2 1/2 year old Damon was wonderful.  When we learned we were expecting another child we went through all the same excited and nervous feeling most parents do.  We decided we’d wait until delivery day to find out if we were welcoming a boy or girl.  We created a clever nickname, as we always do.  Something silly having to due with the baby’s due date.  This time around we were due just after Thanksgiving.  Wishbone it is.

I was convinced little Wishbone was another handsome son.  No girl would dare to beat her mom up the way this baby did.  We worried the way that parents who’ve lost a baby during pregnancy do.  My husband might even dare to say I was a wreck at times.  Fast forward.  Wishbone continued doing flips amazing our doctor and midwife with his/her flexibility.  I was due to be induced Monday or Tuesday.  Sunday night I woke up at 2am and was in a lot of pain.  By now I was used to the pain as the baby flipped.  I felt this little creature reclining as if enjoying a warm summer afternoon lounging in a beach-side hammock.  My abdomen expanded from left to right as we made our way to see the midwife for our evaluation.   Sure enough an ultrasound confirmed our little Wishbone flipped and was now transverse breech.  With that news my doctors decided planning a c-section for Wednesday was our best option.  They convinced me with “it’s possible the baby may flip again, if that happens we’ll induce you.”  Since March I’d been imagining another old-fashion delivery.  Hearing that I’d need the help of a c-section to delivery this baby really brought out my emotions.  Obviously I wanted what was best for little Wishbone it’s just the prospect that had me completely overwhelmed.  Like super crazy ready to jump out of my skin kind of overwhelmed.

Come Wednesday Wishbone was still enjoying that hammock.  We left big brother sleeping peacefully under the watchful care of my in-laws and headed for the hospital at 5:30am.  The nurses were wonderful trying to calm my nerves as they prepped me for surgery.  We met with the anesthesiologist and then were visited by my OBGYN.  I walked into the operating room leaving the loving husband in our maternity room.  He’d be able to join me shortly.  So there I sat waiting for the spinal to be completed by the anesthesiologist.  The nerves and gravity of the situation overwhelmed me I was shaking and crying and so ready to give Wishbone a proper name.  It took the anesthesiologist forever to get the spinal positioned properly.  In all it took four tries to go into my spinal column.  So sorry if I just grossed you out.  Thankfully for him I was so eager to meet my baby that I didn’t jump off the table and run down the hall.

Time for my husband to arrive.  He came up to the head of my luxurious cot.  I wish I could say the excitement on his face made me smile but instead the poor guy looked like he’d literally seen a ghost.  He stared down at me completely unsure of what to say to comfort my trembling nerves.  We heard the chatter of doctors and nurses many of whom helped us to deliver Seth or Damon or both.  As the medical jargon danced around far above my head I forced myself to relax knowing I was in good hands.  I remember thinking should something happen to me I know that my kids will be well loved and will be in the goods hands of all who I love the most.

Incision made.  Yuck.  Then there was a whole bunch of waiting and pushing on my belly.  A little cry.  Just one.  A nurse called out born at 8:29am.  Lots of doctors and nurses talking but since I couldn’t make out their words it seemed like silence.  Brent and I just kept looking at each other not saying a word.  We were like little kids waiting to jump out of the cupboard as soon as mom walks into kitchen.  We kept expecting more cries, a glimpse of our baby or at least a mention of whether we have another son or our first daughter.  I didn’t dare call out and ask about the baby’s gender.  Clearly they were all occupied with something more pressing.  I wanted every bit of focus to be on my little Wishbone.  From the other corner of the room more cries.  Yeah!  Finally we began to talk…

 

“Is it a boy or girl?”

“Ask them.”

“No, you ask.”

 Finally a nurse came over to introduce Brent to the baby and ask him to cut the cord.  Brent walked over to meet our newest addition and take pictures.  There I lay expecting my husband to say it’s a boy or it’s girl… nothing.  What? I thought he was on my side.

At last a nurse walks by my head and nonchalantly says “She’s doing better now.”  “What? she? It’s a girl?”  The poor nurse replies “No one told you? You have a baby girl.” And I begin to sob. Then I begin to think ‘doing better now’ no one told me she wasn’t doing well.  I inferred that may be the case when my doctor didn’t hold her up for me and when no one said “it’s a…” and all of that was reinforced when she let out just one quiet cry.  Oh the life of a mom.  Nine long months carrying this little cherub, endless nights worrying and wondering if she’d make it into my arms, now I have a big incision to document her escape yet still I’m the last to know.  Get used to it mom!

Now that we’ve been blessed to have another child, our first daughter I’m reminded just how important it is that I take care of myself.  Long before I became a mom I was doing the typical take care of myself last mom thing.  Something about having a daughter and imagining her as a mom has encouraged me to take a little time for myself hopefully I’ll be able to set a happy and loving example.

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