February 9, 2005

• My daughter is 16 months older than my son, to the day.  Both born on the 26th of the month.  I knew I was pregnant with my daughter almost immediately, within hours.  I was nauseous, miserable, lost a lot of weight; so you can imagine how nonplussed I was to find I was pregnant again so soon.

  
  

  But after a bit of queasiness in the first month, my stomach settled down, and the second pregnancy was easier, except for one thing.  This new baby seemed so large! My daughter weighed 8 pounds, but this kid was bigger. With each passing month I became more and more uncomfortable.  I told my doctor this baby felt so much larger, but he would run his little measuring tape over my belly, and say "Nope, you're just the size you're suppossed to be".

  
  

  This was back before doctors had sonogram machines readily available, the only one in our area was at the county hospital, and my crap insurance would not OK for me to have a sonogram, because there was no proof of anything amiss.  Just me complaining about peeing my pants all the time.

  
  

  The final straw was about 10 days before they induced me, I was in the grocery store, reaching up for a box of cereal, and the baby kicked me.  He kicked me so hard, he broke a rib on my left side, and I hit the floor, gasping for air.  That rib still protrudes to this day, there was nothing they could do for me.  Delivery is hard enough, but next time, try it with a broken rib, just for kicks!

  
  

  Now we'll fast forward to D-day, they are starting to realize that I was not joking, this kid is pretty darned big.  They've been giving me Pitocin for 2 days, no food, no sleep, broken rib, no baby yet, and he is starting to show stress.  Now things start going wrong in a hurry, his heart stops for a bit, they realize his head is too big, can't get in the forceps, my heart stops, I remember alarms going off, blood pressure cuffs on both of my arms, taking turns squeezing the crap out of my biceps.  Now the doctor is saying something to me about my uterus starting to close up, and the baby has pooped, and it's really important that I get it together.  I think his eyes are awfully wide open, and I just want to check out from the pain for a bit, if they don't mind.  Really, doc, I'm just a bit tired, let me rest for just a second, it feels so good..............

  
  

  Now, this seems strange.......Wow!  I don't feel anymore pain!  Wonderful, I feel so peaceful, just floating, relieved.  I'm looking down at the top of my doctors head, and I see he has a small saw in his hands, and is trying to figure out something on it.  He says something to one of the nurses, I can't hear it, and she's just wringing her hands, looking at me.  I notice the pretty barret under the net on her hair.  It sounds like it used to sound when I was a kid and would go down to the bottom of my aunts swimming pool, kinda muffly, but not silent.  So very, very peaceful, I don't feel concerned about anything.

  
  

  Now the doctor snaps at the nurse, she jumps, and turns and gets something off of the tray behind her.  I look at the dust that is on the top of the flourescent lights in the room, "They need to get up here and dust these", I think to myself for a second, but I really dont care if they do or don't.

  
  

  All of this has taken what? 2 or 3 seconds?  I see my husband leaning over me, I can't see my own face, he is in the way.  I see my gown is up, and I'm pretty indecent, but I don't care.  I just feel so nice, so relieved to be away from that pain.

  
  

  All of a sudden, the side of my face itches, like a feather tickling, and I raise my hand to touch it...........

  
  

  Just like that, I'm back, looking out of my eyes, hearing the alarms going off, the doctor's terse commands, the nurse telling me to do something, chaos.

  
  

  But all I see is my husbands face in front of mine, inches away, and he is crying so hard, and between gulps he is saying to me "Please don't die, baby!  I can't live without you!  Please don't die!", so panicked and desperate, and I feel myself touching the side of my face where the feather was, and I realize it's not a feather at all........it's his tears, dripping off his nose onto my face, doing that little tickle thing they do.

  
  

  And that, dear friends, was the moment I "knew".

  
  

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  I'll save you having to ask and just tell you...he weighed over 11 pounds, and had a head circumference of a bit bigger than 17 inches.  And yes, we eventually got him out in one piece, but that is a story for another day, eh?  Oh, and he really, really owes his mom!

  
  

  

  
  

  Bob, K, and I (about 3 months along with #2) (I'm looking at this, wondering where the hell that gorgeous neck went?)

  
  

  

  
  

  
  

  Our big boy, about 2 hours old, some of the purple starting to leave his face, man, was he ever beat up!

  
  

  

  
  

  Our bruiser at about 7 months old, I did his hair like Bozo! ha!

  
  

  

  
  

  The four of us when he is about 7 months old. (Argh! My natural hair color! I turned almost completely silver when Bob died) I was struggling very much with what had happened during his delivery, because I had been raised and was still a part of a very strict Pentecostal religion, (Jesus only, as some call it) that frowned on people saying they had "out of body" experiences, and this "knowing" I had developed had me feeling very guilty.  Notice no wedding rings or jewelry, for those long time readers.

  
  

  

  
  

  The three survivors now, as photographed by the great Bluesoid. Admit it, we are so freaking cute!

  • 11:50 am
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