It was the end of January 2008. On a Sunday afternoon, I told James that my "annual" exam was coming up in a few months and I wanted to discuss with my OB/GYN about having a tubal ligation. We had the 2 boys and I felt that our "biological" family was complete. James and I had visited Russia in 2004. While there, we visited an orphanage and we had always thought that we would like to have 2 kids of our own and then adopt from there. So in our minds, it made sense to start looking into that option.
The following Sunday afternoon it hit me. I was late if you know what I mean. There must be a mistake. I rushed to Walmart. I didn't want to waste money on a twin-pack pregnancy test because I was sure that it would be negative. So I bought the single test and came home. Almost immediately the 2 lines appeared. No, that can't be! So I ran out the door and went to Dillon's. This time spending the extra money for a double-pack. Came back home. Confirmed 2 more times that I was indeed prego. I was in absolute shock. I remember spending the rest of the afternoon on the couch crying. Malachi came up and in his little toddler voice asked me what was wrong. You see, at that time, Malachi had just turned 2 and Isaiah had just turned 1. By the time of the 3rd baby's birth, we would have 3 kiddos under the age of 3! That thought was so overwhelming.
Because I was on birth control at the time, the doctor wanted a sonogram right away to see how far along I was measuring. So within a few days of finding out the news, I was able to see the 4-chamber heart beating on the machine. No matter how I felt before the sonogram, I couldn't help but feel love and excitement afterward. With this pregnancy, I felt great. I was tired, but no nausea/sickness.
I was hopeful that this would be our little girl. It had to be. I had dodged the bullet twice to avoid using the boy name James loved. Solomon. I just couldn't bring myself to call our son that. While pregnant with Isaiah, I struck a deal with James that if we had another boy, then that one would be "Solomon". I did that because I was already thinking I was finished with being pregnant. Oh stupid me!
With the boys, we waited until birth to find out what we were having. This time around, though, I desperately needed to know because I didn't want months of debating over a boy's name. When it was time to find out what we were having, it wasn't quite as much fun as waiting. But I was thankful that I could no longer dread a boy's name. I loved watching our little girl be active inside my belly. All the measurements came back normal, and we noticed she had some big feet (just like her daddy!)
My parents threw us a baby shower and my aunt hosted it at her house. Instead of just ladies being invited, it was for families/spouses to come, too. It was a great day filled with everyone creating designs/sayings on burp clothes, eating, opening up wonderful PINK gifts, and swimming. Perfect way to celebrate our little Samara.
As you will find out when I blog about the boys' births, my body handles pregnancy a little differently than a lot of other women. Around Week 27/28, I started having Braxton Hicks (BH) contractions. By around Week 32, I had already dropped. I was getting nervous that she may come early. At my Week 34 OB appt, I was having such intense BH contractions, I wanted to be checked. My doc complied and I was 50% effaced and dilated to a 1. Given the fact that the boys came early, he went ahead and did my Group B Strep test and I made my appt for my 36 week check.
I never made it to that appt, though. It was Labor Day weekend and I was seriously uncomfortable. She was sitting so low and I was waddling like none other. I returned to work that Tuesday, Sept 2nd. I was having horrible contractions; I thought they were just BH, but given the fact I had to have Pitocin with the boys, I didn't quite know what to expect with just natural contractions. I was having trouble walking long distances at work, but I wasn't about to get checked out at the hospital until my water broke.
The next morning, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd, I got up at 6:30am like any other day. While getting ready for work, I had to stop what I was doing every few minutes, bend over and breathe through a contraction. Because of this, I was running late to work. I left a message with the manager to let him know I was having some strong contractions, but I would be there soon. I got in my car and was on my way out of town when I realized that I wasn't sure if I could drive the 45 minutes there. I turned around and made it home. I barely was able to walk upstairs. I took some Tylenol (which I never take) because I knew that if I went to the hospital, that would be the first thing they would ask. James was getting the boys ready for daycare and I laid down on the bed. I told him I was pretty sure that we needed to get to the hospital. At that point, I didn't want to get out of bed so he dropped the boys off while I stayed at home. I called my mom to tell her I was pretty sure I was in active labor. She immediately started the process of preparing to come down.
James got home around 8:00am. It took me a few minutes to make it to the truck. He was going to run in and grab his laptop because he thought it would take awhile before Samara's birth. I knew differently. I had already had the mood change where I no longer was really talking. I started to feel the urge to push. The hospital that I supposed to deliver at was in Wichita. My maternal instincts knew better. I told James that we needed to go to our local hospital.
At 8:15am, James pulled up to the front door and asked if I needed a wheelchair. Uh, yes, this mama was no longer able to really walk. He wheeled me in and went to park the truck. I remember the front foyer was packed because of course there had to be a book fair that day and James parked me right in the middle of it! Here I was trying not to push and breathe through the contractions and trying to blend into the crowd. A darling, elderly volunteer came over to me to see if I could wait a few minutes for Registration to get all of my information. I couldn't speak so I looked at her and tried to nod. Fortunately, a lady in a business suit took one look at me and rushed me into the ER so I could get checked out. She must have known the look of a desperate woman!
The nurses in the ER seemed to keep asking me the same questions. How far along are you? When did the contractions start? How many children do you have? How long did you labor with them? I finally got to the point where I stopped answering. I couldn't talk anymore. They had called up for an OB nurse to get me. But first, I had to stop by Registration. The lady at the desk quickly realized that I needed to get out of there FAST. She kept paging for the nurse to come. I'm sure it only took a few minutes, but it felt like forever.
When the OB nurse finally came, her breath about made me throw up. Coffee breath while in active labor just didn't settle well with me. She wheeled me into a "labor" room, gave me a gown to put on and a cup to pee in. I don't know how I made it into the bathroom to change and I attempted to open the cup, but I was scared that if I went pee then there was a good chance that Samara may come out in the toilet. I made it to the bed and the nurse came in to ask me the same questions the ER nurses did. James was answering them, but I interrupted to say that I felt the urge to push. The nurse said to just wait to push until they had me hooked up to the monitor, an IV in, and some vitals on me. All of a sudden, I said, "I feel a head down there!". The nurse immediately asked if she could check me. By all means, YES! And then she yelled, "I need a doctor in here right now!!!!" A doctor rushed in and they said that Samara was right there. Uh, yeah, I already knew that!
Because all of the "delivery" rooms were dirty, there was a whole team rushing around to prep the "labor" room for the arrival. At 8:59am (45 minutes after arriving at the hospital), and 2 pushes later, Samara Jayne came into this world. She was tiny (1 day shy of being 36 weeks). She weighed 5.11lb and was 18 1/2 inches long. The nurse tried to gather as much prenatal history on me while starting my IV and getting my vitals (after the birth!). Samara checked out wonderfully. I remember looking at her in the warmer and noticing on her left foot, her 4th toe was crooked. The strange things you remember. She was amazing, beautiful, darling, and most importantly, healthy.
With the craziness of the birth, I had forgotten to have James call my parents to tell them to come to our town's hospital and not Wichita. He hurriedly called them and initially got their answering machine. My parents were actually backing out of their garage when my mom heard the phone ring. She rushed inside to hear the great news. (At that time, they didn't have a cell phone so it would have been impossible to get a hold of them any other way!) I called work to let the manager know that I wouldn't be making it in.
We spent the rest of the day holding our beloved daughter. All wrapped up in pink. Cute as a button. Apparently, we were the talk of the hospital. I repeatedly apologized to the nurses and staff for creating such a busy morning for them. More than one of them said that I was made to have babies. Um, no thanks, I'm done =)
Within an hour after the birth, I was walking around, got my PJ's on from home, and felt much better than having a little person sitting on my cervix. Because of her fast delivery and small size, I had zero complications afterward and truly felt back to being myself...well...minus the pregnancy weight!
My parents and sister made it down around lunch time and "oohed" and "aahed" over her. James brought me lunch from our favorite, local coffee shop. In the evening, he brought the boys up to meet their sissy. Malachi wanted to hold her and kiss her. Isaiah wanted to climb on the bed, the chairs, etc. Not really interested in this new playmate.
After James went home with them for the night, Samara and I had a great night of watching HGTV together, cuddling, and me kissing her sweet cheeks. What a blessing she already was!
The following morning James' "Doctor Friend" came by and said that she was one of the prettiest white babies he's ever seen. Yeah, we make some pretty babies! Late that morning, we were discharged and began our crazy adventure as a family...
"Samara" is of Hebrew and Arabic origin and means Guardian or Protected by God.
 |
| A few hours after birth |
 |
| Getting ready to leave in her preemie clothes Grammie and Papa gave her |
 |
| Samara at home |
Loved the story of her birth and would have loved to have been there as she was born. I'll never forget that conversation with James. "She what!? She just had the baby!!" then James says," We are at the hospital in El Dorado." "You're at the hospital in El Dorado!?!" incredulous. We were trying so hard to get there for her arrival and to offer any help that might be needed. Each of those trips to the hospitals for your deliveries were the l-o-n-g-e-s-t ever.
ReplyDeleteWe also love Miss Samara Jayne. She seems like a pixie fairy to me and has a delightful mix of sugar and spice. I love her personality and voice. Her eyes are beautiful and they do mirror her soul. It is such a privilege to be grandparents; we can smother the younguns with lovins and rarely correct them.
It was a delightful party for Samara. Such a pleasure to be with the family. I loved the sugar of her heartfelt thank yous and the spice of her tasting the cake on the sly. She will be quite the woman before we know it . . . I'm just glad that she is only three! We've got lovely times ahead of us.