tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41180562858235831072024-03-05T02:12:51.478-05:00fran dorseyFranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115635572098159925noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4118056285823583107.post-66476190014063023372018-06-06T19:02:00.000-04:002018-08-22T13:50:58.151-04:00The Birth Story of Margot GarciaI woke up early the morning of my 39 week appointment. My ankles were freshly swollen (and I marveled at how far I'd made it without swelling, as I had a lot earlier in my previous pregnancies). Bryan and I were in a frenzy to get the kids dressed and fed and out the door to meet my mother-in-law so I could drive up to my OB appointment. I looked especially puffy, but I didn't think much of it since looking like an uncomfortable stuffed sausage is par for the pregnant course for me. Some women glow, and I just usually look like a tired gorilla by the end!<br />
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When I made it up to the office, I went about the usual routine -- pee in the cup (and all over my hand -- WHY IS IT SO HARD), and then come out to the scale to see how much weight I'd gained (six pounds in a week?) and then check my blood pressure (so high that the nurse got wide eyes and decided not to tell me the number). Just a week prior, none of these things had been an issue. The weight gain and the blood pressure and the swollen ankles were the perfect storm, though - and I knew what it meant. They weren't calling it pre-eclampsia, but it could definitely head in that direction. They hooked me up for a non-stress test (where they monitor the baby's movement and heart rate to make sure all is well) and I waited for my midwife to come in and tell me I would be induced that day. I was induced with Elsa and had a really positive experience, and it sounded like a way more delightful option at that point than having a stroke. So, PLEASE INDUCE ME.<br />
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Also, my first two babies were eleven and nine days past my due date, so a week prior to my due date seemed like some sort of magical realm I'd yet to visit. I felt good about the whole thing. The baby was fine, and the best way to address blood pressure issues at the end of pregnancy is for the baby to just go ahead and get out.<br />
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The induction was scheduled for later that afternoon, so I left the office quickly and went to my <a href="http://www.highfivesalon.com/">favorite place</a> to get my hair done (PRIORITIES) and then ate Jimmy Johns because you know how much I love sandwiches and I knew they would starve me when I was in labor.<br />
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I WAS SO EXCITED. I texted pretty much everyone I knew and told them this was it. I was so excited to get the party started and finally meet my new girl. There is an actual shift in time and space at the end of pregnancy where every day feels like ten years and it's really hard to believe there will ever be an end in sight, and I couldn't believe it was already happening (DO YOU FEEL WHERE THIS IS GOING)...<br />
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This darling fool was induced with pitocin for THIRTEEN HOURS and there was nary a contraction in sight. The starting dose of pitocin is at a 2, and the highest is 20. I was at 20 for I don't even know how long and my baby was happy as a clam, completely undisturbed and unwilling to be bothered to exit. My blood pressure was totally fine when I was laying down. I was a hormonal, swollen and exhausted mess when my midwife suggested I go home on blood pressure medication and modified bedrest. Morale was at an all time low - SO MANY TEARS, and impossible to reason with me (see: exhaustion and hormones). I texted everyone with my tail between my legs to let them know I was going home, still pregnant and waiting.<br />
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As you'd imagine, bedrest with a one and a three year old is very easy! (No, no it is not). PRAISE THE LORD FOR MOTHERS. Both of ours took care of our babies while I laid like a sad whale in our bed and googled all of the natural ways to induce (none of them work).<br />
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TWELVE VERY LONG DAYS LATER, it was Mother's Day, and it was a good day. My sister was in town from Colorado, we celebrated together, and in the evening I started to wonder if I was having some light contractions. COULD THIS BABY MAYBE ACTUALLY COME OUT THIS TIME?<br />
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My contractions didn't stop, and since I was already 4cm and we were about an hour from the hospital, we headed up once my mother-in-law could come stay at the house with the kids.<br />
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I was slightly crazed and incredibly determined TO NOT LEAVE THAT HOSPITAL PREGNANT A SECOND TIME.<br />
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Once in triage, the nurse declared me only 3cm (very rude, please get different fingers) and nonchalantly said I wasn't in active labor. But, as you guessed - my blood pressure was still high, so they were going to induce with a low dose of pitocin. Again. Jesus take the wheel, this is where it really gets fun.<br />
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Bryan, my mom, and my sister Camille were all there with me when I was admitted and got settled in my room for what I assumed would be another long night. (Side note: I cannot describe how happy and thankful I was to have my sister there with me this time! Especially since she and Margot share a name. The whole thing felt really special).<br />
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Here we will move forward with a timeline of the evening, with thorough notes.<br />
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<b>12:45a</b> - Started on lowest dose of pitocin (2!) and the contractions felt really strong. On the monitor, they weren't registering as such, though. But it seemed odd to me, having labored with my first two kids before. Didn't think anything of it besides feeling very annoyed that my IV was in my hand and was making me uncomfortable.<br />
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<b>1:15a</b> - My water broke, all over the floor. So much water. Immediately the contractions started getting stronger and I referenced my birth plan to the nurse and said "THE ONLY THING ON MY BIRTH PLAN IS AN EPIDURAL. PLEASE BRING IT." The contractions still weren't showing up on the monitor as being very strong. They called the anesthesiologist and told me it would be a few minutes for her to get there while I got the fluids I needed first.<br />
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<b>1:30a</b> - My widwife checks me and informs me that I am still only 4cm and the baby is still pretty high up. I consider crying at the thought of another long night of pitocin with no progress.<br />
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<b>1:45a</b> - Anesthesiologist sent from heaven comes in and starts getting set up. Bryan all but sprints out of the room, and my mom and sister stay in with me. The contractions feel insane and I begged the nurse to turn off the pitocin so I could try and be still while I got the epidural, and she thankfully obliged. The anesthesiologist started putting the needle in my back while the nurse stood in front of me and held my hands. I was trying to sit still on the side of the bed, with my legs dangling over the side. I had one huge contraction that scared me and made me cuss and cry.<br />
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While the anesthesiologist asked me again to be still, while she was still trying to put in the needle, I had what felt like what I can only describe as a ROCKET SURGE OF WATER rush out of me as I sat there and started screaming and crying,<br />
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<b>"SOMETHING IS WRONG. SOMETHING BAD IS HAPPENING. SOMETHING REALLY BAD IS HAPPENING."</b><br />
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The anesthesiologist whispered, "When was the last time she was checked?" and the nurse said "She was only four about ten minutes ago"<br />
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I was convinced that I was being paralyzed by my epidural. Bryan heard me yelling in the hallway and started tearing up and decided to come back in. My mom and sister and the nurse slow blinked at me like pigeons on the ledge of a tall building while I was certain I was about to meet my death.<br />
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Bryan walked in just as I then screamed,<br />
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<b>"SHE IS COMING OUT MY BUTT"</b><br />
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And then, dear reader, I looked at my mom and sister and said,<br />
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<b>"SHE'S COMING"</b><br />
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<b>AND THEN, I FELL OVER ON MY SIDE AND LIFTED MY LEG IN THE AIR AND MY DAUGHTER SHOT OUT OF ME LIKE A CANNON BALL AND I DID NOT EVEN PUSH HER.</b><br />
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The nurse caught my baby, the anesthesiologist caught me with my head at the end of the bed and kept me from falling off. My IV ripped out and there was blood everywhere. The nurse called for help and the room was now full of other nurses and my midwife.<br />
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I said all of these things:<br />
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<b>"WHAT JUST HAPPENED"</b> ("You just had your baby!" they exclaimed)<br />
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<b>"I FEEL LIKE A DOG THAT JUST LAID DOWN"</b> (because I felt like a dog peeing on a fire hydrant when she shot out of me)<br />
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and<br />
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<b>"I'M SHOOK"</b><br />
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I was in complete shock and it took me a while to really even understand what just happened. Bryan texted his mom around 1:50 something to tell her I was getting the epidural, and then texted her again at 2:08 to let her know that the baby was here.<br />
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<b><i>I went from 4cm to the baby out of me in under a half an hour, and without my beloved epidural</i></b>. <b><i>My labor was all of a whopping two hours from start to finish. No one was more surprised than me, guys. Babies do what they want.</i></b><br />
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Margot Garcia was our smallest baby yet (another mercy of the Lord, since her predecessors were 8 and 9lbs with 100th percentile heads) at 7lbs, 14oz and 21 inches long. Her head is so perfect and small and round (that's what happens when they shoot out of you), and she is sweet and very chill and the opposite of her very dramatic and precipitous entrance into this world. We are so overwhelmed with joy to have her in our family with us. I really can't believe you can keep having babies and your heart gets bigger and wider and fuller for each of them, but it does, and it's nothing short of magical. She's from heaven.<br />
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Having now experienced both medicated and unmedicated births, I can now confirm that I would still get the epidural ;)Franhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115635572098159925noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4118056285823583107.post-7970436007750558502016-11-02T16:20:00.000-04:002016-11-02T18:02:40.989-04:00The Birth Story of Amos PaulI'm a very concise person.<br />
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NOPE, THAT'S A LIE.<br />
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I'm just trying my best to remember every little detail. I have great hope that one day Amos will read this and think, <strike>"Mom...did you really have to talk about your bodily fluids that much?"</strike> "Mom, I am so glad you shared this story of my entrance into the world"<br />
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A special thanks to Hanna for the beautiful photos - they mean so much to me, and so do you.<br />
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Without further ado....<br />
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I figured I would go past my due date again, so I tried to hold loosely to any and all expectations of when everything would happen. I also told Bryan that we should have talked about his family history of giant stubborn babies that struggle with punctuality more when we were dating - you know, to prepare me more. The thing is, even when you mentally prepare to go past your due date, it's still really hard not to lose your mind - mostly because getting out of bed by that point requires a crane. It's all tiring but joking aside, I don't take pregnancy for granted and I'm unbelievably thankful to experience it.<br />
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So, my due date came and went! AGAIN! NINE DAYS! (It was eleven with Elsa, so this was an improvement). My blood pressure was great along with everything else (an issue for me last time), so I went to my weekly appointments and we didn't discuss induction. I had my membranes swept twice (so dreamy! Google that!), but I was still holding strong with little to no progress. At about 8 days past I was finally dilated to 3cm - nothing crazy, but welcome nonetheless - so all the membrane sweeping wasn't in total vain.<br />
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Bryan kept praying I would soon go into labor so I would stop going to Target and HomeGoods and channeling all of my frustrated pregnant energy into buying more baskets and candles. (Can you really ever have too many candles and baskets, though? No).<br />
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I started contracting on Sunday morning. I called my OB, because I was pretty sure my water had maybe broken at the top and was slowly leaking. Since there was no confirming without a test and it was so inconsistent and the contractions stopped - we didn't bother going to the hospital. MORALE WAS LOW. Total despair set in and I felt so foolish for texting our parents and telling them that something was happening. I sat bouncing on a giant exercise ball whilst also pumping to try and induce labor. I looked like a giant sad gorilla with cones on her boobs.<br />
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We went to sleep that night - me, totally convinced I'd be forever pregnant. My despair was thankfully in vain - as my contractions started again at 3:30am. They came out of nowhere - fast and strong. I woke up and started walking around the house and used an app to time them. They were strong and lasted about a minute each and were about 3-5 minutes apart. I timed about six of them before my app very nonchalantly popped up with a notification in all caps that said, "GO TO HOSPITAL IMMEDIATELY." So I folded laundry instead (????) and then woke Bryan up and told him we needed to leave. I called my mom so she could meet us at the hospital, and my mother-in-law came to stay with Elsa. I informed everyone that if we made it to the hospital and they did not admit me, I had plans of throwing myself on the ground and refusing to leave because I knew I would be too heavy to lift. I felt really good about the idea.</div>
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We made it to the hospital and while checking in I swayed to and fro like I was dancing to a ballad you might hear on a soft rock radio station. Journey? Phil Collins? You get it.<br />
<br />
I went to triage, praying "Please let this be real," and "So help me Jesus if I am still only 3 centimeters still I will break someone."<br />
<br />
The nurse checked me and informed me I was 5cm (YAY!) and that yes, my water HAD actually broken 24 hours prior (YIKES!) - I had no signs of infection, but I was also positive for group B strep so I had to be treated with antibiotics right away anyway. So I WAS ADMITTED. I WENT INTO LABOR ON MY OWN! NO PITOCIN!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigIMqCBIn1Ob11GYGICnoainRFtKFdJcXgy-Ea_8xhd_M0wmHjJFArsVFcEV1RXmTC7eVnaGX48zjXJ-nvLFroD9QSBoFy1WU1x-JlzTdFSbS1ki0RYXTKOdCw0A7JCGgrwqQre2mHDHH/s1600/Amos-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigIMqCBIn1Ob11GYGICnoainRFtKFdJcXgy-Ea_8xhd_M0wmHjJFArsVFcEV1RXmTC7eVnaGX48zjXJ-nvLFroD9QSBoFy1WU1x-JlzTdFSbS1ki0RYXTKOdCw0A7JCGgrwqQre2mHDHH/s640/Amos-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR39rpp5EJl3CLrlguC5kPzrZ2aJ1dZ14bx88seUwbJy1VmAJTJolZ7ya12LE6OqJ1PardEuUqGtu7PszFiA1sG10gr0W_ovhQyvDMkbOAOdTUTRvv7ml-_rvu-dTGgtXvxEKSvy9YZIbP/s1600/Amos-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR39rpp5EJl3CLrlguC5kPzrZ2aJ1dZ14bx88seUwbJy1VmAJTJolZ7ya12LE6OqJ1PardEuUqGtu7PszFiA1sG10gr0W_ovhQyvDMkbOAOdTUTRvv7ml-_rvu-dTGgtXvxEKSvy9YZIbP/s640/Amos-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So thankful for how flattering hospital gowns are, and for how dainty I look when pregnant</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdh-U4LH4eaDI_NepPL1JUAkKPElPqD-58Y3-Qk2J9RbwIETOoWYTRRSgUQ1-A09YrOh26cTLDDE7PvB9nG1bFclNdP8Oxk1vYpNZcnrs-oRseF-jJ2P4iXHt43dM0mN6Tann7G15Z8tVs/s1600/Amos-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdh-U4LH4eaDI_NepPL1JUAkKPElPqD-58Y3-Qk2J9RbwIETOoWYTRRSgUQ1-A09YrOh26cTLDDE7PvB9nG1bFclNdP8Oxk1vYpNZcnrs-oRseF-jJ2P4iXHt43dM0mN6Tann7G15Z8tVs/s640/Amos-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look closely and you'll see my swollen alien feet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was elated. My mom, Bryan, and best friend Hanna all met me in my room. Hanna had asked to be there and I asked her to take photos. I think we all expected it to go pretty quickly. I was already 5cm, and my labor with Elsa wasn't so long.<br />
<br />
The whole time I was contracting, <i>I felt so happy</i>. I realize that sounds kind of insane, but the whole thing felt so peaceful and I felt so relieved. Since I needed antibiotics, there was no rush to move things along, progress-wise - so I was able to move around the room freely and however I needed to in order to stay comfortable. When I was laboring with Elsa, my blood pressure was uncooperative and I had to lay down earlier than I had wanted.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_h9rhJvMrE1a78RX8j-A8ij5lsisVEvncfXE1haKISB5a58TbpQ-7NF6GM9P_AMlgHJFDwu7RlrtpZ5uqlYVMs-r-tnho6HtswNoWRP0ngFsGQijYuyKXZ8tcvxD_QVUEKjixr0ePY2D-/s1600/Amos-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_h9rhJvMrE1a78RX8j-A8ij5lsisVEvncfXE1haKISB5a58TbpQ-7NF6GM9P_AMlgHJFDwu7RlrtpZ5uqlYVMs-r-tnho6HtswNoWRP0ngFsGQijYuyKXZ8tcvxD_QVUEKjixr0ePY2D-/s640/Amos-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Facetiming with Baby Girl</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7k2JTo3npLXEr6O-609hfiRV5uOGrGG-XIQ11S5k_GqbMfhoQSeesVJjANPlCY09XCvpQ7KRgW_IUA___ZwgwzTrp-lotsVI0DVC3rQ34L3yipo_Bc65EegWwYGqyOM1iAH-wX9TK1aY/s1600/Amos-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7k2JTo3npLXEr6O-609hfiRV5uOGrGG-XIQ11S5k_GqbMfhoQSeesVJjANPlCY09XCvpQ7KRgW_IUA___ZwgwzTrp-lotsVI0DVC3rQ34L3yipo_Bc65EegWwYGqyOM1iAH-wX9TK1aY/s640/Amos-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Discussing her last few hours as an only child</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOACiTyjPZWSuht0Uv9_9QOeeFi9j5qHpJpvIC1TDvDc3lyTOX9CPqEd1sc23BO1FTGyL4iLi6A3II_0JvoQQjXwMag-QUU-iE4dtcxhgWSQ8v1W_24vjLVedqMMgGyC1pVX7zincggLF-/s1600/Amos-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOACiTyjPZWSuht0Uv9_9QOeeFi9j5qHpJpvIC1TDvDc3lyTOX9CPqEd1sc23BO1FTGyL4iLi6A3II_0JvoQQjXwMag-QUU-iE4dtcxhgWSQ8v1W_24vjLVedqMMgGyC1pVX7zincggLF-/s640/Amos-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFB7KHXv1hDKZYcIlWlOYla4cXoRZy0kBmYcumsdXWi8X5kqaewRDwbfiM7qeZ8PNJX6r-2CATdC8Zmj2AREZL6P6Ddh9WRs1Rd70K5o7oOIf6-mvn_RWHnzGbGxGZCahUUkzdfVH-ekBf/s1600/Amos-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFB7KHXv1hDKZYcIlWlOYla4cXoRZy0kBmYcumsdXWi8X5kqaewRDwbfiM7qeZ8PNJX6r-2CATdC8Zmj2AREZL6P6Ddh9WRs1Rd70K5o7oOIf6-mvn_RWHnzGbGxGZCahUUkzdfVH-ekBf/s640/Amos-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
When it was time to monitor me occasionally, I'd have to lay down and be still through the contractions. At the peak of each one I didn't feel as much pain as I did a strong urge to loudly express all of my feelings and desires to everyone in the room. All of my feelings and desires at that point were:<br />
<br />
"I REALLY HAVE TO PEE AGAIN. I WANT A SANDWICH SO BAD WHERE IS A SANDWICH."<br />
<br />
I wish I could say it was more varied than that throughout my laboring - but truly, all I could think about was how hungry I was and how sad I was about the truly lame breakfast I had as we were rushing out the door.<br />
<br />
I understand the whole "you can't eat anything because if you have to end up with a c-section you could choke and die" thing, but really - telling a laboring woman she can't have food or drink during the most physically exhausting thing her body might ever do SEEMS KIND OF DUMB. Sorry, that was my hunger talking again.<br />
<br />
I labored for several more hours through some strong contractions before I decided I wanted the epidural. Nothing felt out of control or too painful, but I was tired and wanted to rest while I could - because, you know, I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be much longer (do you feel where this is going?)<br />
<br />
The anesthesiologist came in and asked if anyone wanted to stay in the room, and Bryan thought better of his experience from last time and sprinted out of the room in terror. My mom stayed in to hold my hands and keep me steady.<br />
<br />
EPIDURALS, YOU GUYS. GOD BLESS THEM.<br />
<b><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/2c/Janet_Jackson_-_All_for_You_(album).png"><br /></a></b>
<b><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/2c/Janet_Jackson_-_All_for_You_(album).png">THIS IS ME WHEN I GET THE EPIDURAL</a> - (be sure to click that)</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
WHY HASN'T ANYONE WRITTEN A SONG ABOUT EPIDURALS? WHY DON'T OVER THE COUNTER EPIDURALS EXIST? ON A REALLY BAD DAY, I JUST WANT AN EPIDURAL.<br />
<br />
They're like a warm hug of drugs for your legs and as soon as you get one it's like you're at a birthday party (A BIRTHDAY PARTY WITHOUT FOOD).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgubKL9M6KqoIqTKndip-lTfD471uhSdPy-pJxE1OI2czpLMWsOHOImaszsq4Q3KsOuEcNO8B4B8UuxpfPGuxEKrMs2oiRDxpQLRz90xFuMFPv7u3r_fTJRBjzkmu4Z9UerBGzYQI10gprT/s1600/Amos-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgubKL9M6KqoIqTKndip-lTfD471uhSdPy-pJxE1OI2czpLMWsOHOImaszsq4Q3KsOuEcNO8B4B8UuxpfPGuxEKrMs2oiRDxpQLRz90xFuMFPv7u3r_fTJRBjzkmu4Z9UerBGzYQI10gprT/s640/Amos-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Facetiming with Camille </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PLAFHn1mddubJ4E_1UracfNaoDPNSVbFckX8g7t1rW6EYtfcZfxc1P_gz6RrMLMp50aEYOI0CKOC0u9cwd-KlJjM2zU84tHU6_jF9e2RmxgI04HRZ-wKlN55XMDLAFlkWFLsk5bxgf_X/s1600/Amos-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PLAFHn1mddubJ4E_1UracfNaoDPNSVbFckX8g7t1rW6EYtfcZfxc1P_gz6RrMLMp50aEYOI0CKOC0u9cwd-KlJjM2zU84tHU6_jF9e2RmxgI04HRZ-wKlN55XMDLAFlkWFLsk5bxgf_X/s640/Amos-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWXKJuO2BtiZVyqaGd6txgZveY0Ldc4cLnOF62xsgWkeOc9liNC_Vvp2zPkW8cOONWqPi4569nCnJdwUgaPuRQEib0yE26CzQwHus6EjkgmjoMyA_uD_IU_rcqbNkloq47NajqX7KgLfb/s1600/Amos-42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWXKJuO2BtiZVyqaGd6txgZveY0Ldc4cLnOF62xsgWkeOc9liNC_Vvp2zPkW8cOONWqPi4569nCnJdwUgaPuRQEib0yE26CzQwHus6EjkgmjoMyA_uD_IU_rcqbNkloq47NajqX7KgLfb/s640/Amos-42.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working hard <strike>as my doula</strike> on sudoku</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZLPBPW6sT9wi83nDB-F-BkIMT6M5T1sqDD1SHeaYQfwPYtQv34k300oA0V4R0rZbK-Wbfs_aY3JYdpBU4gFNRRFMTXQB06X55O8paJP5Cv5FsFtldtbbhwEN26aEL7cPyXYT5ZlHbWVu/s1600/Amos-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZLPBPW6sT9wi83nDB-F-BkIMT6M5T1sqDD1SHeaYQfwPYtQv34k300oA0V4R0rZbK-Wbfs_aY3JYdpBU4gFNRRFMTXQB06X55O8paJP5Cv5FsFtldtbbhwEN26aEL7cPyXYT5ZlHbWVu/s640/Amos-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also doing sudoku</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzmLXjKVrNIpQeuHmJwxGm9fRhkz-zeUuPFKKo3pgnrqLdepMuKRZLHMuTSmBbeUyRcNtxf2HaITt18atzpQXJbDG9rbNc91IMITSqeB-R7lmQJM0-oAj_j9EnhtYEBLh0UIYPf2P2S42/s1600/Amos-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzmLXjKVrNIpQeuHmJwxGm9fRhkz-zeUuPFKKo3pgnrqLdepMuKRZLHMuTSmBbeUyRcNtxf2HaITt18atzpQXJbDG9rbNc91IMITSqeB-R7lmQJM0-oAj_j9EnhtYEBLh0UIYPf2P2S42/s640/Amos-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes Hanna would walk by and just say "There's no way that's a real foot." So glad we have this to remember its formless shape forever.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
They didn't check my progress before getting the epidural - my nurse figured it would be more comfortable to do so once the goods had kicked in (how thoughtful!) and I was certain that when they did there would be great news of my dilation.<br />
<br />
From checking in to my room at 7am (5cm!) until 1:30pm when I asked for my epidural, I had progressed to....6cm. JUST ONE. ONE CENTIMETER.<br />
<br />
Though no one had officially declared it, each time someone had checked me (even the week prior at my OB appointments), the doctor or nurse would get a faraway look in their eye as they shoved their hand up into my goods (if you're picturing Laura Dern in Jurassic Park with the sick triceratops, please stop) and say, "You know....I'm not sure...but...I think....he might be sunny side up." A posterior baby was not something I had really planned for.<br />
<br />
I never felt any painful back labor, so I didn't think much of it. But now we were sure - because he just wasn't in the right position and things weren't moving along like they should.<br />
<br />
The next thing I knew, I was begging them for pitocin. File that under: "Things I Never Thought I'd Say," and "Things that would astonish Ricki Lake."<br />
<br />
I just wanted the boy to come out. I wanted to hold him and nurse him and love on him and eat Jimmy Johns. I was over it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDRy4OjX8_gKgC1fRP0GD0JnignZkBPUypuPtEBjVNh22-IdMiZZ_di9RUs9XyFAlwkodGautlZXwtdrZGjVXBy3kgg5UskL7qjB9wgbEXhCNI9i1nytSqdWf4w6bmkALab1qILkWag227/s1600/Amos-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDRy4OjX8_gKgC1fRP0GD0JnignZkBPUypuPtEBjVNh22-IdMiZZ_di9RUs9XyFAlwkodGautlZXwtdrZGjVXBy3kgg5UskL7qjB9wgbEXhCNI9i1nytSqdWf4w6bmkALab1qILkWag227/s640/Amos-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rip Van Winkle. Here, I slept for about eight years, waiting for my cervix to dilate.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nFIRXsBviaVILKqL8XF6b1_SqIqk1Ws32kuLzpiDnPuIzXbx-Cj-ni6ME78LiyxbQ5ZQ17oo-ULrL7jcMiVtMRdq2zZXZhd6thUg1uYX6UKwL4jzPB-gkWxTj6nEuJx-Dcqpby5_iNgY/s1600/Amos-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nFIRXsBviaVILKqL8XF6b1_SqIqk1Ws32kuLzpiDnPuIzXbx-Cj-ni6ME78LiyxbQ5ZQ17oo-ULrL7jcMiVtMRdq2zZXZhd6thUg1uYX6UKwL4jzPB-gkWxTj6nEuJx-Dcqpby5_iNgY/s640/Amos-31.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVeRmsh-7hhbNN6LFHxBkIhcF6WXdAbyn3CYsEqBF4naqkOmfN6ne9GJ82PcReuGVpWAiFsDeiMz_a-ELQZGpSdp4Kvvc6lzaeO2qooBD5lX9p6UMBtRlpadQxWQCpCfc1W5pCH_gouh9/s1600/Amos-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVeRmsh-7hhbNN6LFHxBkIhcF6WXdAbyn3CYsEqBF4naqkOmfN6ne9GJ82PcReuGVpWAiFsDeiMz_a-ELQZGpSdp4Kvvc6lzaeO2qooBD5lX9p6UMBtRlpadQxWQCpCfc1W5pCH_gouh9/s640/Amos-34.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm so sorry I didn't stop at McDonald's for you to eat breakfast this morning" - probably what Bryan is saying</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsG5hq5xdzQkPEM_RV6qQehOLJ4RQuuM2E7lFGVe-fNp3FpyfqhmXJAYl1F729fwANI-JnqpWGTSvfSIKF6fI6fhr5yPujeU-Hvl3oS8cVfoKc96ke-nEOiLeHs5Et9vDxqCzvMaHu28fc/s1600/Amos-46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsG5hq5xdzQkPEM_RV6qQehOLJ4RQuuM2E7lFGVe-fNp3FpyfqhmXJAYl1F729fwANI-JnqpWGTSvfSIKF6fI6fhr5yPujeU-Hvl3oS8cVfoKc96ke-nEOiLeHs5Et9vDxqCzvMaHu28fc/s640/Amos-46.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my sweet nurses visiting me and saying, "WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?" She was just finishing up her shift when I was admitted and then came back to work 12 hours later and I had still not had the baby because I was FORT FETUS.</td></tr>
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My mom and Hanna turned on The Bachelorette (because we have priorities). I vaguely recollect JoJo and <a href="http://abc.go.com/shows/the-bachelorette/cast/alex">Alex the Meatball</a> laying down on the ground with a horse and him mispronouncing "gouchos" as "goo-chos" before we turned it off because I started feeling the urge to push.<br />
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Sure enough, by a miracle of the Lord, I was fully dilated and IT WAS FINALLY TIME. I was tired and felt like vomiting up all of delicious ice chips I'd been eating for ninety hours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAzYCwhseSF79fmzYuvJydcnzI8qxNoCJedri-rU_Y3HRNgKpEmHOYP8kr3lsIrj5Pa21-__drK4jDYGD5GV6Zau67AZTVaQtO5QbQ_16IcwptpYvr_i8xy5h8v40xOyxrewBz27VPaN4/s1600/Amos-47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAzYCwhseSF79fmzYuvJydcnzI8qxNoCJedri-rU_Y3HRNgKpEmHOYP8kr3lsIrj5Pa21-__drK4jDYGD5GV6Zau67AZTVaQtO5QbQ_16IcwptpYvr_i8xy5h8v40xOyxrewBz27VPaN4/s640/Amos-47.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNn7B_Tu3zsGzHU4gTUrD6-_W8WUVBqMp-S-XXNP4_WlTgPtV9kRs90NwSm9WDBTon6aaDEciNQd0Lo0J_om0tsAm3smPXvDVUe8oHCzrIjw3pKAJXXFeL2D0sLBQ9StTZw7TPtLRtH6c/s1600/Amos-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNn7B_Tu3zsGzHU4gTUrD6-_W8WUVBqMp-S-XXNP4_WlTgPtV9kRs90NwSm9WDBTon6aaDEciNQd0Lo0J_om0tsAm3smPXvDVUe8oHCzrIjw3pKAJXXFeL2D0sLBQ9StTZw7TPtLRtH6c/s640/Amos-48.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We waited for my doctor to arrive and the pressure to push was overwhelming. I started to panic a little bit - thinking about posterior babies and how hard it is and if they'd need to get him out with a vacuum or if he would just completely destroy me on the way out. </div>
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When it was time to push I just kept praying it wouldn't take hours. I just didn't have hours left in me. The pressure was amazing and I felt so much stronger than I did the first time pushing Elsa out - I knew what the pushing felt like and I was determined. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18aMXfxC1-wR-FavEDuKYsz3PR8oGNz-HL-A5uuRrc9yEJahva-ldV6YMjdC2q8FDEnqzscf6x0X-iW3an52-_sm3P4pD9GoWOwEXpRRiYYrPxj6sxi7TJ0Leb7IQpEPaeasSBHvAD9J3/s1600/Amos-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18aMXfxC1-wR-FavEDuKYsz3PR8oGNz-HL-A5uuRrc9yEJahva-ldV6YMjdC2q8FDEnqzscf6x0X-iW3an52-_sm3P4pD9GoWOwEXpRRiYYrPxj6sxi7TJ0Leb7IQpEPaeasSBHvAD9J3/s640/Amos-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I was strong and determined, and then I pushed twice and gave up. I started crying. I said I didn't want to do it and wanted to just lay there like a sunning walrus. Apparently they don't let you do that, though - and everyone started saying they could see him. The nurses and my mom and Bryan and Hanna and my doctor were cheering for me. </div>
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I kept saying, "Can you see his head? Does he have a lot of hair?" and no one could answer because he was coming out with his forehead first. </div>
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His giant Dorsey head (to be fair, my side of the family has big heads, too) did not want to come out. </div>
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I will spare you the gory details (unless you want pictures??? KIDDING), but there was a slight incision involved and a big push and Hanna maintains that with that final push he "SHOT OUT OF ME LIKE A ROCKET."</div>
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And just like that, I had a son.</div>
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Amos Paul Dorsey.</div>
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Nine pounds and twenty-two and a half inches. Messy and warm and vibrant and gorgeous with a bruised little forehead. </div>
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My heart recognized him right away and I started sobbing. My happiest tears I've ever had are the ones reserved for my children's births.</div>
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They immediately laid him on my chest and I got to snuggle with my boy - one of those treasured glimpses of heaven. </div>
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I told Bryan, "Oh man I cannot believe I had to push that long. I thought I was going to die."</div>
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And he laughed at me and said, "Um...that was twenty minutes." I guess it didn't take as long as I anticipated! And maybe I am a little dramatic? No?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3kMC0o7wOKA-PTPak3rmZ1WqqJyZypL-DuiFbHXMaIHOlJn7gTM4htTl7aTjqdYEngiysA1NuOoGLVoNCy65BJB5XFv6L99Xpye9PU0AnHR2X3t7zENm98QjtAzAfLOdjqpfwd0aAxjw/s1600/Amos-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3kMC0o7wOKA-PTPak3rmZ1WqqJyZypL-DuiFbHXMaIHOlJn7gTM4htTl7aTjqdYEngiysA1NuOoGLVoNCy65BJB5XFv6L99Xpye9PU0AnHR2X3t7zENm98QjtAzAfLOdjqpfwd0aAxjw/s640/Amos-52.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rJk66-si42h1DLMO_c9B5EXvtiNBPjUmMe060XRU51d8YhpVud5HzJxHQtcF0YlYAFrklSdE9Swkp0igidKQdgQRid9YyYH75DYmsAM1HlGBhzEsFA97zB9nkHcPgeWe7UWo2pSD0ikc/s1600/Amos-57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rJk66-si42h1DLMO_c9B5EXvtiNBPjUmMe060XRU51d8YhpVud5HzJxHQtcF0YlYAFrklSdE9Swkp0igidKQdgQRid9YyYH75DYmsAM1HlGBhzEsFA97zB9nkHcPgeWe7UWo2pSD0ikc/s640/Amos-57.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvGVztdLmCcB3hQ7HTZIVMLQIUpWiFtdB3KJxKpHCI849NKXHQyTEp4zn_W1ZYWnEo92EO5tZCKp_4elQcfFBDDkyRX9ja0GhBGQ_Kn4nOdMv5OH2992A5pSLgk-X0A0jlg1rTawj1jy3/s1600/Amos-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvGVztdLmCcB3hQ7HTZIVMLQIUpWiFtdB3KJxKpHCI849NKXHQyTEp4zn_W1ZYWnEo92EO5tZCKp_4elQcfFBDDkyRX9ja0GhBGQ_Kn4nOdMv5OH2992A5pSLgk-X0A0jlg1rTawj1jy3/s640/Amos-59.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Lw2lDKJ42tC3a1XQumYLnbm0q3FV_WS6djrCvlrfZi2DbOvuF1UcnaG9qVihupTqG6gybkaA5ZsopktYXVZ74yaa-Cw27yaGDJNBqNMjxPu-My3mnWjQTVdqWCx5WGni0ZQNlauajFUX/s1600/Amos-61.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Lw2lDKJ42tC3a1XQumYLnbm0q3FV_WS6djrCvlrfZi2DbOvuF1UcnaG9qVihupTqG6gybkaA5ZsopktYXVZ74yaa-Cw27yaGDJNBqNMjxPu-My3mnWjQTVdqWCx5WGni0ZQNlauajFUX/s640/Amos-61.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPacOKWpa-zIA_EbVrqGdn06m-jXQ01uK_pukpcMumNJdKKECkwciQLylHJZFjeRQ-fUN9UKM6hXS_j5DvT3wjzAZTDg6WobDCejja1FrSjr8RVrrLmvLJcZjicQ6dOHe2MzAhL5JWKspy/s1600/Amos-63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPacOKWpa-zIA_EbVrqGdn06m-jXQ01uK_pukpcMumNJdKKECkwciQLylHJZFjeRQ-fUN9UKM6hXS_j5DvT3wjzAZTDg6WobDCejja1FrSjr8RVrrLmvLJcZjicQ6dOHe2MzAhL5JWKspy/s640/Amos-63.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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So, my dear Amos. On the night you were born, I ate the <strike>grossest hospital-quality</strike> most delicious cheeseburger of my life and drank cranberry juice cocktail from a small plastic dish. I held you on my chest and smelled your perfect head and beheld your squishy face and all of my worries of whether I could love another baby as much as my first melted away as I thought of how much I already loved your soft hair feathers and eye lashes and soul. </div>
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You and your sister are evidence of the mystery of God's grace and mercy - an ever-present reminder to me that He is the giver of all good gifts. I pray you know the magic of how loved you are, every day. I pray it spills out of you and you can't help but share that joy with others. We are so thankful for you.</div>
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Welcome, my sweet boy.</div>
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<div class="_UZe kno-fb-ctx" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin-top: 4px;">
<div style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 13px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Hello, I've been waiting for you</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I didn't know if you'd recognize my voice</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Cause I've been whispering your name again and again</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I've been imagining this day and I'll never be the same</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 13px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>It's so good to see your face</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 13px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>We dance and sometimes only fall</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>We sing even when there are no words</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>And I hope love lifts you up again and again</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>And if you ever lose your way, let me be the first to say</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 13px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>It's so good to see your face</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
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<div class="xpdxpnd kno-fb-ctx _Rtn" data-mh="58" data-mhc="1" data-ved="0ahUKEwiHyJamiYvQAhVKHZAKHU5mAAwQycMBCCAoADAB" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin-top: 16px; max-height: 58px; overflow: hidden; transition: max-height 0.3s;">
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<div class="_UZe kno-fb-ctx" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin-top: 4px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div class="_Nvn" data-mh="-1" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 13px;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Come inside from the cold and rest your weary soul</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You belong, you are loved, you are wanted</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You're not alone</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I've missed you so</i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="xpdxpnd" data-mh="80" data-mhc="1" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 0px; max-height: 80px; overflow: hidden; transition: max-height 0.3s;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Without you here, it's not the same</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>And I've been waiting here</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Welcome home</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></i></div>
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<i style="font-family: inherit;">- Joy Williams</i></div>
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Franhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115635572098159925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4118056285823583107.post-39858581854701367982014-05-30T22:06:00.000-04:002016-02-06T16:21:59.966-05:00The Birth Story of Elsa Bennett<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vTIlWr6f2IqAQTHxRcpw_mxLxXi_3hyphenhyphenQ1oelXQNIRnPXttQlUt0FxfdARxaUKgf82LTXznUUVrhgAUqSjIKjrMWXAEmIFqweVBr9Nrirbip1R6vlzceAv9Yil8Hc6jEUL3RIhyBoLqNi/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vTIlWr6f2IqAQTHxRcpw_mxLxXi_3hyphenhyphenQ1oelXQNIRnPXttQlUt0FxfdARxaUKgf82LTXznUUVrhgAUqSjIKjrMWXAEmIFqweVBr9Nrirbip1R6vlzceAv9Yil8Hc6jEUL3RIhyBoLqNi/s1600/photo+2.JPG" width="172" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final uniform</td></tr>
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<i>Save for the three grainy iPhone captures at the beginning, the photos of our dear Elsa's debut were taken by <a href="http://melissatalbert.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">my talented friend Melissa</a>. We go to church together. You know how you can just tell you'll be friends with a person? It was like that. We'd made mention of grabbing coffee several times before - but never got around to it. I'd asked her to take newborn photos for us once the time came, and she agreed and offered to take photos of the labor & delivery as well, if we were interested.</i><br />
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<i><a href="http://instagram.com/kentuckymelissa" target="_blank">Her Instagram</a> always makes me swoon - she captures the simple moments of life every day so beautifully and though I hadn't thought of having someone there to photograph everything, I can't imagine her not being there now. Plus, nothing says "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you" like inviting someone to document the baby explosion of your lady parts! (Don't worry, I've spared you all of those gems). </i><br />
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<i>I won't apologize for how long this is. I just won't. </i><br />
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About ten days past my due date, my body was still not giving the slightest indication that my baby had any intention of coming out. The employees at Target were probably feeling really sorry for me when they saw the super pregnant girl in the striped dress with swollen feet wandering aimlessly through the aisles once more to pass the time.<br />
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My pregnancy app actually gave up on me. A notification popped up on my phone that basically said, "You're in your 42nd week. If your baby isn't out by now, it has to come out soon. Good luck and be sure to rate this app in the App Store!"<br />
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To which I replied, "It's just you and me now, kid."<br />
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My OB appointments were weekly at that point. We had to do a non-stress test each time and had a couple growth scans to see how we were both doing. I LOVE the practice we chose. I would have babies every nine months if it meant getting to visit them. They were <i>so</i> patient, respectful of what kind of birth experience we wanted, and really laid back. As long as all was well - I did not want to be induced.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SAUSAGES WHERE MY DAINTY ANKLES ONCE WERE</td></tr>
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When I first got pregnant, my only birth plan was to get the baby out. Which, is basically the only birth plan necessary, right? Like many before me, the more I read and learned - I was really fascinated by the way God made a woman's body to give birth. I wanted to give birth naturally - but what was most important to me was figuring out a way to mentally commit to going natural, but also holding it all loosely enough so as not to be devastated if it didn't go the way I pictured it. It's a tremendous blessing to carry a healthy baby to term and I kept that at the forefront of my mind as what was most important instead of being fixated on whether or not I could push the baby out on all fours or moan like a cow in a hot bath.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting on a bean bag chair in Target and praying<br />
my water breaks all over it</td></tr>
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<i>Every</i> book I read - regardless of method - explained that fear is a woman's greatest enemy during birth. So, more than learning techniques of breathing or visualizing (as helpful as that is), I focused on a lot of Scripture about fear and tried to learn as much as possible and focus on how it was not scary, but beautiful aaand super common. Isn't it weird to think that every human on the earth right now came from a woman's body? ANYWAY.<br />
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In my last futile attempt to induce labor myself, I got a prenatal massage in the morning before my doctor's appointment. My mom came with me that day, and one of the nurse practitioners finally broke the news that I was still a mere <i>2 centimeters</i>, and my blood pressure kept getting higher (no bueno), and that my body was worn out and it was time to induce. Did I mention that I reeeaally didn't want to be induced? I kept hoping and thinking that things would start on their own, but - no dice. I figured they'd set a date to induce in a day or so, but instead she said, "Tonight." I waited for her to leave the room to make arrangements with the hospital before I cried. Big rolling tears that my mom has seen since I was very small and always knows how to ease. My mom kissed me on the forehead and we were both quiet as I tried to process everything. Of all the things I tried to prepare myself for mentally, pitocin wasn't really one of them.<br />
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"You're going to meet your baby girl tomorrow!" She finally said, and the nature of my tears changed to joy and tired relief that I didn't have to wait for things to start happening anymore.<br />
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I called Bryan at work and told him the news. When he got home from work, we finished packing our hospital bags and decided to go out to eat for a nice dinner. I painted my nails (PRIORITIES) and watched some of Dancing with the Stars (because I am actually an old woman at heart), and we headed to the hospital.<br />
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We got the last room in the Labor & Delivery wing. I met my nurse for the night - her name was Stephanie. I liked her immediately. My induction started with cervadil - which is basically like a tampon that has medicine to thin your cervix and you have to lay there like a hot dog for a few hours for it to activate and you have to wear it for twelve hours. No one informed me that when they'd take it out later it would feel like a GIANT INTERNAL PAPERCUT, but I digress. I still kept hoping that cervadil would do the trick and I wouldn't have to join the pitocin party later. Bryan tried (laughably) to fall asleep on a recliner next to my bed, and we tried to sleep for the long road ahead. Instead, the cervadil started contractions and I was awake all night.<br />
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Morning finally came and I had progressed to 3 centimeters overnight. JUST THREE. I ate some breakfast and had some coffee, and my mom and mother-in-law showed up. Around noon, they started the pitocin. I was still focused and mobile and did not anticipate them increasing the pitocin every half hour, so the contractions came on strong and fast. I tried sitting in a rocking chair. I held on to Bryan and we pretended to slow dance, I listened to music on my headphones, and I just tried to distract myself. It all felt manageable until I sat on the birthing ball and what felt like a rubber band in my uterus snapped any my water broke all over me. Then THE PARTY STARTED.<br />
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The combination of my water breaking and the nonstop pitocin flow started to send me over the edge. The contractions at that point were just barely a minute apart, and I had a hard time catching up between them. I was up and moving around but felt like I might fall down when they would peak. Bryan was amazing, and helped me to remember how to breathe. They told me that as much as I wanted to be up and moving, my blood pressure was elevated every time and the best route at that point was to lay down in my bed. My sweet nurse Kim checked me and I was 5 centimeters. At that point, I'd have considered persevering if I still had the choice to be mobile, but I was not trying to be a hero and I asked for the epidural.<br />
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I'd initially not wanted the epidural because all I'd heard were horror stories of how they slowed things down, how they'd increase pitocin and then cause the baby to be in distress and then have to do a c-section. I'd heard of the epidural not working for some people - of it working on one side and not the other. I'd heard of it making breastfeeding more difficult once the little babe came out because they were so sleepy from the drugs. I was just praying the whole time I'd made the right decision. </div>
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Bryan could not even bear to watch when they put the IV in my arm, so imagine my surprise when the anesthesiologist rolled in and Bryan decided to stay in the room. He sat at the other end of the room behind a cart so he couldn't see anything. I was trying not to die when they told me to try and sit my 8,000 pound pregnant body indian style on the hospital bed as the blood pressure cuff intermittently cut off my circulation and they told me to be very still through contractions. It was SUPER fun when the anesthesiologist walked around the bed with blood all over his gloves and stood beside me asking the nurse, "Could you go get Trish to come help me out? I just keep hitting bone." I tried not to cry and immediately assume I was now paralyzed for the rest of my life.</div>
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Another anesthesiologist came in and informed me that I had a slight curvature to my spine. She slipped in the goods and within about ten or so minutes it felt like my legs were warm and fuzzy. I could still feel the pressure of contractions without pain, and I could still move my legs without any issue - they just felt a little heavier. I was covered in blankets and moved into a position to help me dilate, and I was ready to party. Seriously - I was happy as a clam and cracking jokes and relaxed enough to nap or just chat with everyone. </div>
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I didn't regret my decision. I felt maybe for a split second that I was disappointed but quickly got over it because the thought of making it through transition just laying on my back attached to the IV was not worth it. Also - I really felt like by the end I wanted to be full of joy and excited to meet her and not just exhausted and relieved to be emptied.</div>
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The ONLY negative I had about the epidural was that I was so full of fluid that I look at these photos and think, "Is that the mom from What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" and Bryan and I laugh because my face looked enormous slash unrecognizable. My best friends showed up later and politely told me the next day "...Yeah, you didn't really look like yourself."</div>
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For the next few hours, we had a steady stream of loved ones in and out of the room. My progress slowed a bit from 5-7 centimeters, but once I was about 7-8, things were progressing and my epidural began to wear off. I started ralphing pretty violently for a minute (<a href="http://www.frandorsey.com/2014/01/the-first-half.html" target="_blank">you know how brave I feel when I do that</a>) It was bearable, until I was about 9cm and it felt like everything inside my body was about to fall out my butt. My nurse said, "Whatever you do, you CANNOT PUSH," and she offered to have the epidural re-dosed. At that point I didn't want to slow anything down or not be able to feel the contractions to know when to push - but I also didn't really feel like rupturing my cervix would have been very fun either. So, MORE EPIDURAL! I fell asleep for another half hour and she woke me up and told me I was complete. 10 CENTIMETERS, PRAISE THE LORD. She propped my bed up into an upright position and I was the spitting image of Jabba the Hutt. Everyone in the room was so excited and said, "You get to push soon!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTMRpOjvxzGEP1RcbTc3uuShaHAnxuWXHHO4QqqZ3l6S0kJYrHjGnucPaAZdTddqZMvLuwCEGXmdN1mInx5Wl7g6gQrrjP2ywbVFzU26NbDD8Y888uhqlm8u8yLft7l00HCyMYS_8WQBN/s1600/DSC_7886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTMRpOjvxzGEP1RcbTc3uuShaHAnxuWXHHO4QqqZ3l6S0kJYrHjGnucPaAZdTddqZMvLuwCEGXmdN1mInx5Wl7g6gQrrjP2ywbVFzU26NbDD8Y888uhqlm8u8yLft7l00HCyMYS_8WQBN/s1600/DSC_7886.jpg" width="640" /></a>My nurse told me to not get too excited because sometimes it can take up to three hours to push - in which I replied in my mind with an "Oh, hell no."<br />
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I was sleepy and my mouth tasted like metal and they would only let me have ice chips, so I felt a little sassy in that moment and just said, "IF I PUSH HER OUT, WILL YOU GUYS AT LEAST LET ME DRINK SOME WATER?" and everyone promised me all the beverages my heart desired.<br />
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My OB got there a little after midnight. The room was dim and he didn't make me put my legs in stirrups. They explained to me how to push and I tried it twice and it felt like I didn't do ANYTHING, so I informed everyone that I didn't feel like doing it and I quit. Apparently they don't let you quit, though, and once I finally got the hang of it and felt the pressure of her crowning, I was determined.<br />
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The moms peeking at the baby head. Ask me how much I cared at that point ;) </div>
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I didn't want a mirror, but having Bryan next to me and hearing how excited everyone was and seeing my mom start to cry when her head was out was everything I needed to keep going.</div>
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My nurse and doctor cheered me on as I pushed her body out and he handed me my baby girl. Everyone was crying - no one harder than I was. I grabbed her slippery body to my chest and her eyes were wide open when we made eye contact for the first time. All of the air escaped me - I couldn't control my tears and I couldn't believe it was her the whole time. I couldn't believe I was holding her and that she was ours and that she felt so familiar to me and at the same time like I'd been waiting to meet her my whole life. She was breathtaking.</div>
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At 1:04am, our Elsa girl made us a family of three at eight pounds and ten ounces. She came out with long legs that brought her height to twenty-two inches. We're pretty sure she stayed in the womb an extra eleven days to grow her beautiful long eyelashes. She looks just like her daddy - and I pray she has the same tender heart that he does (maybe that's why I had <a href="http://www.frandorsey.com/2014/01/the-first-half.html" target="_blank">the dream about the chicken tender heart</a>?)</div>
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Though we didn't know it when we chose her names, Elsa means "joyful," and Bennett means "little blessed one." She is our joyful little blessed one, and we are so thankful God would trust us with her precious life.</div>
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My family has joked that Bryan has been a dad all his life. When we were dating I think falling in love with him was accelerated by how evident it was that he was going to be an amazing father. Seeing his eyes fill with tears when he met our girl just sent me over the edge with gratitude and awe. It was such a holy moment I will always cherish.<br />
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Whenever my mom told me about when I was born, she told me she was nineteen years old and in a bad place in her life. But she said when she held me for the first time she it was a moment when she knew without a doubt that God was real because she'd never experienced something so magnificent. I get that now. It's why Victor Hugo said that to love another person is to see the face of God. </div>
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The birth of my daughter wasn't what I expected - in all ways, it was better. I wrote an amazing birth plan that I didn't follow, I read a lot of birth stories, I hoped and prayed for things to go a certain way - but our sweet girl just had her own story instead. I'm glad, because God is a much better storyteller than I ever could aspire to be.</div>
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Welcome to the world, Elsa Bennett - you were worth every second of the waiting.</div>
Franhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115635572098159925noreply@blogger.com30