Instagram, Candy Gram, Baby Graham!

*Please note, this is a very long and detailed post about the delivery of my first baby. Be ready for too much information on occasion and lots of details!*

Here I was at 39 weeks pregnant.

April 6th, 2012
3:30am
I woke up to the same excruciating pain that I'd had two days earlier from the baby putting pressure on my femoral nerve. It was in my right leg and groin area, and radiated pain everywhere in my abdomen. I was laying on my left side though, something my doctor told me to do to try and let gravity ease the baby off of that nerve. What was I supposed to do when the thing that is supposed to relieve that pain seems to be causing it?


4:30am
Still awake. And still in pain. It seems like it's getting worse... or... Is that a contraction? I can't even tell if it is or not because everything from my ribs to my right knee hurts so badly. I can't tell if it's starting or ending. My back hurts too. Is that back-labor? Or have I just been laying in this position for way too long? I'm not sure how much longer I can just stay like this. I want to wake up Bob, but I want to let the poor guy sleep. He needs sleep more than I do to function...


5:30am
"Bob.... Bob.. Bob, I need you to wake up."
He woke up surprisingly easily.
I told him my predicament. "I don't know what to do," I whimpered.
We decided to call the on-call doctor. He told us just to come on in since I was 2 days past 40 weeks. We loaded up the last minute things we needed, woke up my mom, and she came with us to the hospital.


7:00am
Both tiny evaluation rooms were occupied when we arrived, so the nurse went ahead and put us in a labor and delivery room, saying that she was being optimistic that we'd just be able to stay in there. My contractions were pretty regular. The baby's heartbeat was strong. I was dilated to 4 centimeters, and still only about 80% effaced, the same as the week before. I was worried they were going to have me go back home. I was getting myself all prepared to go back and lay around in pain all day, again, like last week when I tried going in.

Then a nurse came in and just started talking about all kinds of things. I was confused and stopped her for a moment, asking, "So wait, are you admitting me?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, you're staying!"
What a relief! That meant I'd be having this baby within the next day or so! That much was certain. We sent out a text message alerting friends and family that we'd been admitted, as well as my photographer friend who came to take pictures of my labor and delivery.

The pain from my femoral nerve slowly went away as I laid there watching the baby's heartbeat on the monitor. After a little while I was able to get up and move around. I wanted a natural birth, so I brought my exercise ball to sit on during labor. I used that, we walked around that whole floor of the hospital, sat in various chairs, and even went down to the cafeteria for lunch (although I, of course, didn't eat anything). Bob coached me along as we counted through contractions. I knew they weren't nearly as painful a they would end up, but breathing up until that point would be good practice.

40 weeks and 2 days. Full term!

12:00pm
My Ob/Gyn, Alisa, showed up. She checked me, making sure not to be too gentle about it since she knew I was ready to have this baby already and wanted to help get things going as soon as possible. I was still only dilated to a 4. Things were not progressing very quickly.
"I can break your water if you'd like," she offered.
I looked contemplative. "We don't really know how long this could take otherwise, do we?" I rhetorically thought out loud.
She went on. "My schedule for today is pretty good. I'm having lunch with my husband until about 1:30, and then from 2-4:00 I have another delivery... Only, this is a new bed being delivered to my house," she said with a grin.
I laughed. "Can I think about it and get back to you on it?"
"Sure, I'll be around."
"Oh, one other thing." I looked at Bob and grinned. "Bob is wondering if he can cut the umbilical cord with... his Leatherman."
Alisa blinked, and smiled. "Sure, why not," she shrugged. He was just required to disinfect the blade really well.

Since I wanted the whole delivery done naturally, I felt bad about the idea of having her break my water. I would essentially be induced. I didn't like that. I wanted this baby to show up on his own when he was ready, not on my timing. But then I realized that he was ready to go. He was in position, perfect and waiting for my cervix to efface and dilate. It was actually me that he was waiting on. So we called Alisa.


1:15pm
She made it back to the hospital and didn't waste any time. Out came that crochet-hook looking tool, down went a few towels, and then there was no turning back. My first child would be born within 24 hours of having my water broken. That was the weirdest feeling, by the way. Gushing of what seemed like gallons of warm fluid from my lady-parts was a really awkward new sensation.

The contractions quickly got more intense and painful. Bob coached me along the way, counting and giving me support as I needed it. My mom was there too, offering help and distractions too.


4:30pm
I'd been breathing through contractions really well, but my confidence in my energy started waning. I'd only gotten 3 hours of sleep the night before, being in pain is extremely draining, and not being able to eat on top on top of that certainly wasn't helping. I started feeling exhausted. I had a nurse check me again. I was only dilated to a 5. I didn't know how long this would take. It could last until the following day, and sleeping while having contractions is impossible, even though I was trying. I wondered if I'd have the energy to push this baby out if it wasn't going to happen for another 10+ hours. And then who knows how long I'd be pushing for? I needed sleep desperately.

I can tolerate pain okay, even that mind searing and excruciating pain, because I knew it would come to an end at some point and it was serving a valuable purpose. But the exhaustion I began feeling was what concerned me. That worry is why I decided to get an epidural. I felt bad about it. I still kind of do. But I really thought about and carefully considered it because sleep and rest were so important for me at that point. So in my back it went. And I got a little loopy at first.

I just started talking. And talking. And saying nonsense to my mom and Bob. But I was concentrating so hard to try and sound normal! I remember Bob saying something about how I should speak Spanish with the new nurse who came on during the shift change. Her name was Anna and she was Latina. I was really concerned that my R's would sound very American, because while I was so relaxed with the epidural it was impossible to roll them with a nice Spanish accent like I usually could. For some reason both Bob and my Mom laughed at me about it and I couldn't figure out why. I was legitimately worried about it!


8:45pm
I'd been in and out of consciousness, sleeping and just resting for a few hours. I started noticing that my toes  seemed to have more feeling than they did earlier. I even thought that I could move my legs more. Then I noticed that I could feel my contractions. First it was just pressure down on my cervix, but within 20 minutes it really started to hurt. The pain got pretty severe, and then Bob came around to the other side of my bed where all my monitors were. He put his hand down next to my shoulder and realized that the sheets were wet up there. We called the nurse in, and discovered that my epidural had been leaking. No wonder I was hurting more and could move around better! The anesthesiologist for the night shift came in and took a look. His name was Dr. Glaze (and he was hilarious!). Bob and I made jokes back and forth with him while he investigated the problem. It turns out that he couldn't just replace the part or some tubes or anything. He had to replace the entire thing. In other words, they had to give me another epidural all together. I have the best luck ever.

At least I was still pretty numbed up. It didn't hurt too much for them to put a second needle in my back.


9:45pm
I woke up from dozing again. I felt hot and flushed. I pulled the blankets off of myself, sweating underneath them. I also just felt weird in general, like I wasn't quite myself. I told Bob and my Mom. Bob called the nurse, Anna, in.

She checked my temperature. 101.5 degrees.

She checked how far dilated I was. "It's about time to start pushing," she said.

"I'm dilated to 10?!" I was both excited and terrified.

She went to call Alisa. While she was out of the room, I had Bob call Lyssa, our photographer, to come immediately to our room.

Anna came back in. She turned to my mom. "I have a job for you to do," Anna told her. "You need to sponge her down with cold water constantly." And she went on to show my mom what to do. For nearly the next hour and a half, my sweet mother placed washcloth after washcloth drenched in cold water over my chest, arms, neck, and forehead, and had to switch them out nonstop because of how quickly my feverish skin heated them up.

As Anna was bustling about the room and making the last few preparations, she instructed me on how to breathe and push. "I need you to breathe in deep, hold it for 10 seconds and push hard down in your butt, and then breathe out, back in, and push down again. Practice." She had me try it just so I'd know how it works. (TMI: Thank goodness I hadn't eaten all day! My bowels were empty, and I'm pretty sure we were all thankful for that!)

"You," she said to Bob, "need to hold her leg like this." She showed him how to hold up my right foot and calf up for me. "I'll hold the other leg for her."

My epidural was wearing down so I could feel the contractions. Watching the monitor as one started, Anna and Bob held both of my legs up. "Grab your thighs and squeeze them towards you as you push," she finished instructing. "Go!"

And so it started. As I breathed and pushed, she and Bob both would count for me, and at various times Anna would say, "Push more! You need to push harder!" Other times she would say, "Good! That was perfect! Again!" I hadn't been really impressed with Anna before that, because she was so quiet and sort of introverted, although pleasant. But she was amazing when it came time for the delivery! She knew when and how to encourage me, what to tell me, and she did her job flawlessly. I wish she could be my nurse for every one of my kids' births!

I pushed three times during each contraction, 10 seconds each push. It was so exhausting. Anna noticed. "Do you want to try pushing for 8 seconds instead of 10?" I nodded, out of breath.

So we counted and I pushed for 8 seconds at a time. It was far more tolerable for me.

"Do you need to take a break on the next one?" Anna asked after she could tell my strength was getting spent. Bob counted me through the next one so I could rest instead of push.

Bob was wonderful too. He kept his eye-contact with me when I needed it, held my hand and encouraged me the entire time. He didn't even get skiddish or light headed as he looked down at where our son was slowly making his way out. After contractions Bob would slow my breathing by counting to four over and over and I'd match my breathing to his counting. As he did so he'd get a cup of ice chips with a straw in it, and as soon as my breathing was normal he'd ask if I wanted water or ice. I got particular about the ice chips. I only wanted him to spoon out three at a time for me. I felt like I could never get enough water or ice though, probably due to the fever.

At one point between contractions I asked Anna, "How long does this usually take?"
She smiled. "For your first child? Usually two-to-three hours of pushing."
I did not want to be doing this for three hours! I was determined to get this baby out sooner. So I began pushing harder. When I didn't think I could push any harder, I did anyway.

A couple of pushes later, Anna looked up at me and said, "He has red hair!"
"He what?!" Red hair? Seriously? Red? I thought most babies had black or dark brown hair. I couldn't wait to see this kid!

Pushing became more difficult, more of a strain, and more painful. By this point Alisa had appeared in the room, ready to catch this kid as he came out of me. Between pushing until I thought my eardrums would explode, and hoarsely yelling with every breath, I didn't even notice when she actually showed up. She did ask, "Do you care if some med-students observe the delivery?"
"No, as long as they don't piss me off," I curtly replied right before another contraction started up.
"Oh, well I told them no, but if you don't mind then I'll go let them know they can."
I honestly couldn't tell you what any of them looked like or how many there were. They did a good job of being quiet and staying in the background.

Alisa was incredible too. She hates to do an episiotomy and avoids it in every way possible. So there she sat, all up in my business, working and stretching that final part of the birth canal to give me a chance at not tearing or needing an episiotomy.


11:08pm
Anna and Bob kept up their energy while my own was waning, but I was determined to finish as strong as I could. They kept cheering me on and telling me what was happening. Bob could see the baby's head. It was crowning. And then I felt the head finally slide through. It was time for the shoulders.
"One more time!" Anna exclaimed. "One more big, big push!"

I pushed with everything I had, my hoarse voice loud in my ears (even though my mom told me later that I really wasn't screaming very loudly). And somehow, miraculously, our son slid out the rest of the way. With my eyes closed, I heard him cry. I opened them and blearily looked for Bob. I vaguely saw clamps, the massive umbilical cord (it was way thicker than I thought it would be), and Bob, as Anna and Alisa instructed him on what to do to cut it. Seconds later someone placed that squirming and crying baby on my chest. He still had vernix covering a lot of him. And boy did he feel heavy! How big was he? Tears ran down my own face as I realized that this was him! This was the child for whom I'd gone through 4 months of morning sickness, for whom I'd endured all of that pain on my femoral nerve, and all of that discomfort for the past two months with that massive belly I'd constantly bump into things with and open doors into. I started talking to him through my tears, and he immediately stopped crying and turned his face toward my voice. He knew me! He recognized some tiny piece of familiarity in this foreign and cold environment and grasped onto it. And then Bob was by my side, tears on his cheeks too. He was one proud father. And this baby was perfect in every way.

Alisa came and stood next to me. She told me that I didn't have any tearing, at least, not in the usual place. Rather than tearing toward my rectum, I had a little tiny tear inside that wasn't even visible and only required two stitches. Weird, I thought, but thank goodness! I thanked her over and over. She was incredible and I want her to delivery every one of my children in the future!

There's a lullaby that plays for the whole floor to hear when a baby is born. I don't remember if they played it for us or not because it was so late, but a nurse did play a happy birthday song in our room for him.

After only a few minutes of holding him, some nurses took him for measurements and tests. He required more than normal because of my high fever during delivery. But the second he was out of me, that fever had broken and I felt fine (well, as fine as anyone can after just having a baby). It seemed like hours that he was over in the corner of the room with those other nurses, under that heater and those lights. I cried because I wanted to hold him more. Those short moments right after birth were not long enough. Bob went to stand by him, to keep an eye on him and comfort him as well as calm my worries about him not being with one of us.

Eventually they finished, cleaned him up, and wrapped him up in a blanket. Mom and Bob and Lyssa packed up all of our things. The nurse carefully  helped me stand up then sit down in the wheel chair that she had brought in. My son was placed in my arms and we went to our recovery room. There were two beds in each room, one for each parent to sleep in, and if they're healthy, babies are to room in with their parents. Our son was only in our room with us for a matter of minutes before our nurse, named Tuesday, told us some of his tests had come back with slightly abnormal results. He had a high immature white blood cell count. In other words, they were worried that with my fever he had gotten some kind of infection. Away he went to the Special Care Nursery. Bob went with them to make sure he knew how to get there. I wanted to go, but the nurses in the nursery don't like for the parents to be there when they have to put an IV in the baby or poke his heels for blood tests, etc. So I stayed and dozed, exhausted and full of both joy and sadness--happy that I had a beautiful son, but upset that I couldn't have him sleeping next to me like all of  the other mothers in the rooms around me.


April 7th, 2012
"What do you think of the name 'Russell?'" I asked Bob, as I was breastfeeding our son. "I mean, I know I have a brother named that, but forget about that for a minute. Rusty is a nickname for Russell, so he could be kind of named after your grandpa." Bob's Grandpa Rusty had red hair. My brother Russ also has reddish brown hair.

Bob sat in the chair next to me, contemplating for a few minutes. We were once again in the Special Care Nursery, feeding this baby for what seemed like the thousandth time. The nursery was all the way in one corner of the hospital, and my post-partum room was all the way in the opposite corner. For someone who just pushed a baby out of me and whose lady-parts were swollen up beyond recognition, it was a long and painful journey every time he needed to be fed. Each time we were in there, and when we were back in our recovery room, we'd talk about what to name this kid over and over, unable to decide on anything.

"I think Russell is his middle name," Bob finally responded. And it just felt right.

Later on that day as I was feeding him again, we determined that his first name probably needed to be one syllable. So we started naming off every single syllable name we could think of. I had been scouring a pedigree chart for my mom's side of the family. Bob looked through his baby name app on his phone at every free chance he had when we weren't sleeping.

As I looked down at my beautiful son, I tried to clear my mind so that maybe a name would come to mind. I was taking in every feature of his face, hair, and complexion. 'What does he look like?' I kept asking myself.

And then I thought of a name that I hadn't really considered before. "Bob, what about Graham?"

"Didn't we go over that one a long time ago?" he asked. I couldn't remember. But I did like how it sounded when I said it out loud. And I like how it sounded when paired with his face.

Bob wrote down several first names that either or both of us liked and paired them with his middle and last name:

Rowan Russell Pettit

Ronan Russell Pettit

Graham Russell Pettit

Blake Russell Pettit

And one or two others. 

They weren't all one syllable first names, but they were all names we liked at the time. We read off each of them. Only one sounded right. 

Graham Russell Pettit

Never in my life did I ever think I'd name any of my sons, much less my first one, Graham. I've never known anyone named Graham--no one I can remember anyway, and I do like that. It feels original. And it fits him so well! I can't see him being named anything else. I can't wait to see how he grows and develops. I'm also excited to see what people call him. He can go by Graham, Rusty, or whatever other nicknames relatives and friends feel might fit him.

He was finally released to come home with us in the evening on Monday, April 8th, with just a little jaundice left and a few skin rashes here and there.

He looked so small in his car seat!

If you look on his right temple, you can see where there was a little velcro circle stuck to his face that held a little mask to cover his eyes while he was under the bright lights for his jaundice.

We sure love having him around! He's such a joy and so fun to watch and hold. I'm excited to see all the new things he'll learn as each week and every month passes by.

Graham Russell Pettit

Born April 6th, 2012 at 11:08pm

8 lbs 12 oz

20 1/4 inches long

Pregnancy: 39 Weeks

I wasn't sure if I'd make it this far into my pregnancy. I was actually of hoping I'd have had the baby by now because I am so uncomfortable!

Bob actually took these on Sunday last week, when I was 38 and a half weeks pregnant. My belly has dropped significantly since then. I've been having contractions for a few weeks now, but they've been mostly painless and really irregular. Yesterday they started getting painful and frequent. Today they were even more so.

I'm just biding my time until either my water breaks or my contractions are adequate enough for the hospital to admit me.

Any time now, son! 

Any time!!

Down & Depressed

I've been feeling down the past several days. Maybe it's just crazy emotions and hormones from being pregnant. Regardless, my feelings are still valid, and I'm sad. It's been quite a while since I've had a day like this.

I'm not sure how to pinpoint it or where it came from. I kept Bob up late last night talking and crying. I feel bad about that, but I really needed it. Today I slept until nearly 11am. I woke up to my stomach grumbling. Were I not pregnant, I would have rolled over and gone back to sleep. But for this child's sake, I got up to eat, but then I got right back into bed. Bob came home for lunch, and after taking him back to work, I decided I wanted to have something (no matter how silly) to show for myself when he comes home tonight. So the Costco-sized bag of toilet paper that has been sitting in our hallway next to the bathroom for 4 days finally got put away.

And then I got back into bed with a bag of chips to munch on.

My friend Adam called. He and a few of our friends from Provo are planning to come and visit for a weekend in February.

Lyssa called and wants me to come and take Valentines Day pictures of her and her husband today around 3:00.

As much as I would love to close the blinds and go back to sleep today, maybe it'll be good for me to get out...

*sigh*

Here's what's been weighing heavily on my mind.

I miss my family. I miss my mom. I wish I was still little so I could curl up on my mother's lap and cry as she'd hold me close and sway gently in her old rocking chair.

I've never lived in California, and the weather here is gorgeous 90% of the time. I'm not used to that. I miss rainy days, thunder storms, snow and sleet, playing in the frosty woods, and watching the sunrise over acres of trees and fields of grass. I've always dreamed of living here and how amazing and glamorous it would be. Everyone from a small town secretly (or not so secretly) wants to live in California, right? Well, I did, anyway.

I have these irrational fears that have only surfaced recently. I worry that something will happen to Bob. Every day when he leaves for work, I make sure that I kiss him and hug him tightly for a moment, just in case it's the last time I ever do. I make sure he knows I love him, because I never want him to leave home without being reminded of that, in case it's the last thing he hears from me in this life.

My life has been filled with wonderful people and an amazing family. But it has also been filled with heartache, hardships, pain, and loss. I've needed my parents and siblings and close friends to help me through all of the difficulty I've had, whether they know about it or not. Right now it seems like I'm just coasting and everything is too good, like it's about time for something terrible to happen again. After all, Heavenly Father never lets too many good things happen to me. He just never has. I'm not bitter about that. If I need trials, then I'll take them humbly and try my best to learn what I need to and prove to the Lord that I'm becoming who He wants me to become. I'm just nervous and anticipating the worst right now because it's been too long since some heart wrenching event has occurred in my life.

And I'm going to be a mother in under three months. I've had the faith that this is what God has wants us to do--have children now and not wait any longer. I've been terrified of having kids for most of my life. The responsibility overwhelms me, not to mention my fear of  childbirth. I need to be so selfless for this tiny person that Heavenly Father is trusting me to take care of. My own mother was and is incredible, as well as the epitome of selflessness. How can I ever amount to that? How can I set my own comforts and hobbies and passions aside as frequently as this child will need me to, when those things have been the therapy and means of getting me through the trials and pain that I've been faced with in the past? I still have faith that this is what God would have us do--become parents and bring more of His spirit children into the world to have a chance at life. I know that much is true. I'm just so worried that He's overestimating my strength and ability. Of course He isn't--He knows me better than I know myself. But what if I'm overestimating myself? Am I really ready to be responsible for such a helpless infant who will need 100% of my time, energy, and love?

I'm sure all of these thoughts are due to me being pregnant. But how do I keep going with all of them weighing me down? It's a lot for me to try and deal with right now, on top of the current responsibilities I have.

I mostly just needed to let them out so that maybe they won't be such a focus for me anymore. They're written down, not forgotten about. Maybe I can move on from them, or at least they'll be in the background now.

It's a boy!!

We had an appointment with an ultrasound technician on November 14th. It was an anatomy scan, so along with checking our baby's size and health, we found out the gender.

We went in and within 5 seconds of using the ultrasound machine the technician had this shot:

Yeah, there's no denying that. 

It was as if he was saying, "Yeah Mom, I'm a BOY!! Not a girl like you've been thinking."

My first thought was, 'Oh... Wait... Our baby's not a girl..?' I was kind of stunned. 

And then it hit me. 

We're having a boy. 

We're having a BOY!!! 

Bob is so proud. 

We can take him fishing and teach him how to use a pocket knife. We can take him hiking and camping. We can teach him to play soccer and lacrosse. He can get hatchets and crazy tools and knives from his uncles for Christmas. We can teach him the gospel and pray that he'll serve as a missionary for two years at age 19. Bob can baptize him at 8 years old and he can become a Deacon and pass the Sacrament at church when he's 12.  He'll be our oldest child, and he'll be loving and protective of his siblings--especially his sisters.

I shed some tears as I looked at the computer monitor and saw those images of his little body squirming and wiggling, then relaxing and resting.

"He's a really beautiful baby," the technician said multiple times, admiringly.
"You can tell that in those pictures?" I asked.
"Oh yes!" she responded. "He's got great features and really is good-looking."
I was sure that she says it often to most expectant mothers she sees, but she made sure that we knew she wasn't just saying it. She absolutely meant it.

As the she was checking his measurements and organ processes, he got the hiccups. It was so cute! He also decided to show off and he flexed his muscles for us, proving his masculinity that much more. We laughed. Bob held my hand and looked thrilled, torn between looking at me and looking at the images of our son with sheer joy on his face.

What a special moment.

Here's his umbilical cord.

His little legs!

One profile shot.
You can see his left hand by his chin and his umbilical cord next to that.

Look at his face--those teeny features are adorable!

Little forehead, nose, and mouth... I think he was about to start sucking his thumb here.

Not sure what this is, but it's him!

Wait... I'm  human... Does that mean that Bob's an alien!?
His little skull is even kinda cute, even if he does look alien.

His little arm and hand. So tiny and cute!

This is my favorite shot. Look at how much of him you can see! Head, arms, hands, torso, leg...

And now we have to decide on boy names. We're not in any rush. 

We are open to suggestions--who knows how we'll find his name!

We'll know it when we hear it or when we see him face to face for the first time.

20 weeks. I'm halfway there!

Halloween 2011

Bob is really clever. 

He's also got a cheesy sense of humor. 

He loves old-man jokes, corny punch lines, puns, and plays on words. 

I've listened to him tell a 20 minute story he made up just so he could say a well known string of words with a few mixed up letters so that the meaning is completely changed from what we're all familiar with. 

It's the kind of thing 80% of the population might roll their eyes at, but I laugh every time.

So it's no surprise that Bob had a silly, although brilliant, idea for Halloween costumes this year. 

He said it, and then I made it happen. 

We're a good team.

Bob the baker.

The bun in the oven.

I used a box, my Leatherman and a box cutter, packing tape, spray paint, hot glue, magnets (to keep the oven door closed), aluminum foil, and the knobs are juice bottle caps with round white stickers on them. 

Buy a box of honey buns, put one inside, and the costume is complete.

It's a fun pregnant-lady costume, and wouldn't have been complete without the proud pastry chef. 

I love dressing up in epic Halloween costumes every year. 

We'll have to out-do ourselves again next year, and we'll have an additional tiny family member to incorporate into the mix. We're already planning it out. It will be epic--I can guarantee that much.

First Prenatal Visit, Finally!

I found out I was pregnant at a really inconvenient time. We were moving out of Utah just barely too soon to get any medical aid, and moving to California just a little too late in the pregnancy to get the usual 10-week checkup. Neither Bob nor I have jobs yet. No health insurance. Medi-Cal denied us because we didn't understand something in the paperwork and all the bureaucracy nonsense, so we're trying to get an advocate to help us understand it all. Our savings is drained. We are literally dirt broke with about $5 in our checking account and $6 in my wallet. It's been a little stressful, to say the least.

My mother-in-law is pretty good friends with a lady at church who happens to be an ob-gyn. She emailed her and told her about our situation, and this angel of a doctor just told us to come in for an appointment asap. So we did. I called yesterday afternoon and the receptionist asked if 9:30am the following day was too soon. Ha! No way! So Bob and I went in, finally, for our very first prenatal doctor's visit. We didn't do everything during the checkup that most people do, but that's because we weren't going to pay a cent for anything at that time. The bill would come later as we could afford it. Some lab work and results require payment immediately, so to instead of any of that we just talked with Dr. Williams about everything and she did an ultrasound. It was a very simple first visit.

I'm not really showing yet, so it still doesn't seem real. This really helped it sink in. There's absolutely no denying that we're having a baby within the next several months.

There's only one in there (Phew! There's a high chance we could have twins).
I'm officially 13 weeks along (that's one week farther than I thought).
I've gained 3 pounds so far (I think it's due to doing nothing but eating and sleeping for the past two months, not so much the baby weight).
And my official due date is April 4th. That's right, on my very own birthday.

We have the first pictures of our baby!

The ultrasound pictures were so fun to get! And Dr. Williams is wonderful. She was trying to get good images at different angles all over my abdomen. I have a tilted uterus, which makes it slightly more difficult than normal, but by this point it doesn't make too huge of a difference. Our little fetus is quite the mover, too. Dr. Williams had a tough time getting a good image because this growing baby just would not hold still! So don't worry if you can't see these images very clearly. It was tough to get any clear shots. Dr. Williams even took the time to rewind the footage and show us our baby's individual fingers as they moved across the screen at one point. We could see four perfect little finger tips and a little thumb. Facial features were clear, especially the eyes. We could see the umbilical cord, spine and other bones really well.

It was tough not to cry as we looked at the beginnings of our first child-to-be. It was a really exciting moment for us, and we can't wait to see the progress in the coming weeks and months.

The day I knew...

August 2, 2011

I woke up at 7:25am with a full bladder. Before I even opened my eyes I immediately thought, "Pregnancy Test! Pregnancy Test!"

I had a lot on my mind last night as I was falling asleep. I was thinking about the episodes of 24 your dad and I watched, all the things we had to get done, all the boxes we needed to pack for our move to San Diego, how great Nichole's wedding dress turned out (since I had just finished it) and how much I should charge her, and of course, my worry that I would forget to take one of those expensive pregnancy tests when I woke up in the morning with a full bladder. Quite the opposite of forgetting, I couldn't just lay in bed ignoring my need to use the bathroom like I usually attempt to. I was feeling fidgety and nervous, probably because I knew without taking the test that I was already pregnant.

So I got up, and in the dim morning light coming through the bathroom window, I made a good guess at my aim to take that pregnancy test. I washed my hands, then found a blanket to wrap around me as I sat on the couch and waited for what seemed like the longest three minutes I can remember.

I picked up the test stick that was sitting on the arm rest next to me. Was that... two lines? Was one just really light or was I imaging it?  I walked over to the window for more light.

Two lines. There were definitely two little pink lines.

I set the stick down on a shelf in the bathroom, unsure of what to do next, so I crawled back into bed where your dad was still fast asleep. As I did so, he rolled over and put an arm around me, pulling me closer to him and sighing with relief. Even in his unconscious sleeping state he loves me.

But I couldn't go back to sleep. I couldn't even keep my eyes closed. I scanned the bookshelf against the wall I was facing. I remembered that your Aunt Ashley had given me a pregnancy planner a while back because she didn't need it and thought I might find it useful some time relatively soon. I couldn't see it. I needed to find it. I needed to find something to grasp onto and answer the questions and concerns that kept filling up my mind.

I slipped back out of bed and got dressed. There was no way I could just lay there for another hour and a half until my alarm went off. I looked at the bookshelf and found the planner, hidden behind a larger notebook. I pulled it out and crept into the living room, sitting down in the armchair next to the big front window.

So many things ran through my mind: How far along was I? When would I be due? We don't have health insurance. How can we afford this? Who can I talk to? Everybody will talk to everyone else--I don't want to tell anyone yet. I don't want to tell my mom or Trina or Ashley yet. It's too early. I almost don't want to tell Bob.

I opened the planner and looked at what the first trimester will be like. I looked in the back at what was happening to you at this point, looking at images, reading about your growth, and trying to understand how tiny you were at that instant. I determined that I must be 3 or 4 weeks along. That means you'll be born close to my birthday.

I sat deep in thought for a little while. Just two days ago your Aunt Trina asked if I was pregnant because of some foreign old wive's tale someone had mentioned to her about Peyton's behavior that day at church. I'd said no, but the rest of the day I couldn't stop considering it. I was having some symptoms--I was gassy and had random stomach cramps, tenderness in certain places, and I'd thought I was just PMSing the other week, but if that was the case then I should have been menstruating by now if not sooner.

I spent a few hours online researching insurance and medicaid possibilities, signing up for free emails, tips, ideas, and baby products, and trying to get myself well aware of what to do next.

Your dad woke up around 9:00am when his alarm clock went off. After going to the bathroom he came out and sat next to me at the computer. He looked on the desk where I'd laid that pregnancy planner.
"Are we going to have a baby?" he asked.
"Maybe."
"Are you ok with that?"
After a pause I said, "I think so."

I guzzled water and took the other two pregnancy tests in the box at different times. I wanted to be sure. I didn't even have to wait three minutes for them--each time they came up with two pink lines within 15 seconds.

It wasn't until lunch time that I cried. I made chicken salad sandwiches and as your dad asked a blessing over the food, he specifically prayed for us, for you, and for our future. I'd been on the edge of tears on and off all morning, and that was finally what sent me over the edge. They weren't sad tears, or frightened tears, well--mostly not. They were tears of comfort and timid joy.

I can't imagine living life and enjoying eternity with anyone but your father. I can't imagine trusting anyone else to be a loving, protective, fun dad for you and your siblings other than him. Of course we'll figure everything out, and I trust that he'll work hard to make sure all of your needs and mine are provided for. I'll do my part, and he'll do his. We'll be the best parents we know how to be, and hopefully Heavenly Father knows what he's doing and knows that we're ready for you, or that we will be ready in 8 or 9 months.

We're so excited to meet you in this life, to see you as a brand new person, and hold you in our arms. I've been anticipating that moment when I'll get to hold your little body and spirit in my arms, knowing that our family is closer to being complete. I've agonized with tears of sadness, aching because I've missed you and wanted you to be here as my child so much. Although I'm nervous, I'm thrilled. These next several months are going to be full of challenges, memory-making, physical discomfort, spiritual growth, and most of all--absolute happiness at the thought of holding you in my arms--finally.

We love you. We always have, and we always will.

Always last

I guess that's part of being the youngest child, no matter what my age is.

I'm always last... Last to date. Last to drive. Last to play sports. Last to graduate high school. Last to serve a mission. Last to get married. Last to finish college.

Last to have kids.

That's the one that's on my mind right now. Well, I've been contemplating it for quite some time now, honestly. This is just the first I've really decided to express it publicly. All of my friends and family are pregnant and having children. It's such a happy time and it's all so exciting! I love seeing lives starting and other lives progressing. I love playing with and spoiling my nephews and nieces and close friends' kids. And for a while now I've found myself wishing I had some of my own.

And it seems like over and over I'm told that I'm just baby crazy because everyone around me is having babies.

Is there something wrong with wanting to increase my womanhood to motherhood? Is there something wrong with me for wanting to nurture an infant and teach growing children about life, the gospel, and love? Is there something wrong with me for letting my maternal instinct out? Am I wrong for admitting that I'm no longer terrified of marriage and having a family?

Well I'll stand up for myself since only one other person has when I bring it up. No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with any of that.

So don't tell me I'm "just baby crazy" and that I'm being silly. Don't say "it'll pass," it's only a phase, and I'll be glad later when I don't have children burdening me down. Because for the first time in my entire life, I want kids. I've feared that I'd never want them, never wish for them, and then I'd have them just because of obligation and expectation. And I've always feared that I'd be a terrible mother because of it.

Don't persuade me not to have children yet. Do you think that helps? Why can't someone reassure me that having children is fantastic and fun and a wonderful part of life? Why do you only tell me about the grueling parts of it? Well life itself will always be grueling. I'm stuck with that no matter what. How much more 'preparation' do I need? A few more years? Just so I'm 'older' or 'more experienced' or so that I can enjoy time with my husband? Older won't let me have as many kids, and what other experience do I need so that I can have kids? Will I stop enjoying time with my husband all together if we have kids (even though I know there won't be nearly as much of it)?

Doesn't having children add another dimension to life? Sure, it brings it's own challenges with it, but since when has life been free of trials and difficulties anyway?

I guess I'm just frustrated with the lack of support I feel when I express the fact that I want to have kids, while everyone who is having children gets all this love and praise. When I'm pregnant will I ever get that or will I only hear others tell me it was a poor choice and a bad idea?

As excited as I am for Ben and Trina, Marissa and Brandon, Natalie and Brett, and so many others (which, I'm seriously beside myself with excitement for all of them), I'm also hurting in about that same amount. I just can't figure out what to do with it. I'm not jealous--not at all because those families all deserve to have those beautiful children and all the love and happiness life has to offer. With all my heart I hope for lots of laughter and unlimited smiles as those children grow.

I'm just not sure what to do with this.... other feeling. I'm suppose I'm sad, because I want that kind of love and support. Well, whether or not I ever have it, I'm still going to have children when it's time (and I do hope it's soon, to be honest). No one can persuade me differently, regardless of how difficult it might make everything. Just keep those degrading thoughts to yourself and stop adding to my struggles.

... ... ... ... ...

Okay.

Perhaps that was too much information, and maybe it made you feel awkward. But I needed it out of my head. And now that it's out, I can move on and stop letting it bother me.