I don’t know what everyone else was doing on October 14,
2015 but I was busy giving birth to a human. No big deal. Actually is there
anything that is a bigger deal? I’m having a hard time thinking of it if there
is. The whole process is quite mind boggling. It always will be. A human being
that’s been cramped up in big water balloon called the uterus (what an awkward
word) comes out through something people call the birth canal (why do they call
it this? Canals are wide and long, I do not think either of those words
describe the birth exit accommodations) and all of a sudden you are completely
responsible for another person for the rest of their existence. How do you even
describe that feeling when suddenly there is a screaming purple mini human covered
in mozzarella easy cheese laying on your chest? The answer is you can’t. You
simply can not explain it unless you have felt it. And after you have felt it, you will still
not be able to ever explain it so don’t even try.
Lucy’s birth was hands down the easiest of the three gals
that I now call my eternal team. This
was my first induction. I have always
wanted to have an induction but it hadn’t worked out the two previous times so
I was quite delighted that she was still uterized (my own made up word for being inside) on the
induction date. Inductions have always been the gold medal 5 star birthing
dream in my opinion. After being a labor
and delivery nurse for 7 years, I saw far too many rushed deliveries of people
coming in at 4 am with soaking wet towels, or placenta stained front seats. I
never was a fan of the experience where you could hear the screaming in the
elevator before you ever saw the panicked face of the woman who couldn’t sit in
the wheelchair because there was another head that was not her own already out
leaving a traumatic trail of fluids all the way to the room.
I am all about respecting whatever kind birth
women want as long as it is safe but as for me and my womb, I choose the
easiest route possible. Everything that
my pioneer ancestors embodied before me, I am the antithesis of. I read stories of them giving birth next to a
wagon wheel and then walking on the next hour gathering buffalo chips for
dinner. I bring shame to all that they
represent because if I had my way, I would get an epidural the entire last
month of pregnancy and wheel around the house in a wheel chair so I didn’t have
to feel a single contraction. Let’s just
say it like it is, I am the ultimate weinie. I’m not proud of my allergy to
anything uncomfortable, difficult or painful but it’s the sad and sorry truth. I
wouldn’t have lasted 7 minutes at Rocky Ridge or in a time period without
electricity, epidurals and cars. I get a laughing gas overdose for even the
slightest cavity, I like the bum warmers turned on in the car whenever I drive
and don’t get a flu shot every year because I’m scared of needles. So birth has never really been my thing. On birth eve, I took my final pics with my gals. It was so nice to know when it was going to happen instead of just waiting to be in writhing pain at an inconvenient time. My sister Em took the pre birth photos...
When the nurse asked me about my birth plan I clearly helped her understand
that an epidural was in our very near future…as in she could call the
anesthesiologist immediately. She pointed out that I wasn’t in labor. I didn’t
understand what that had to do with anything. I felt like getting my epidural
before signing all the papers and putting on the gown but I was trying to be
compliant.
The worst part of the whole ordeal was having to call at
4:30 am to make sure we could still come to our birthing suite. I was so tired at 4:30 that I got back in bed
and told Gar we could do it another time. Those who know me understand that
there are few things I value as much as sleep and few things I loathe more than
getting up early. Gar is a morning
person and could see the logical necessity of us getting to the hospital in
Pocatello so we got in the jeep in the dark still morning and headed down the
empty highway to room 208.
After the IV,
paperwork, epidural and Pitocin was all started we asked them to turn off the
lights, Gar laid on his plastic bed which was the equivalent of laying on a
large pack of tortillas, and we both slept until 10:45 am when they checked me
and said I was ready to push. Dr. Carlson was my OB but he let Garrett do the delivery. After 3 pushes at 11:05 am they put a quiet baby
girl with lots of black hair on my chest and then I felt what it pointless to
explain other than at 11:04 my life was completely different because at 11:05 I
became a mother again forever to another spirit that I will spend the rest of
my life loving, serving and trying. If there’s one thing that having two
children has taught me, its that babies aren’t born as a ball of playdough that
you shape and form. They come with a personality. Oh sure you can read all the
parenting books you want and you try to your best to teach and to discipline in
a way that will help them not end up in jail or being a complete loser but when
it all comes down to it, they come in a dependent body with a very independent
old spirit. They come to Earth already
knowing things, with a soul that has been alive for eons. It’s a sobering, humbling reality to try to
fully process that I could be trusted with such a responsibility; to take care
of, love, and teach another human being forever.
After they put the transformer bed back together and a fresh
sumo wrestling size pad, I guzzled 3 cups of grape juice and sprite while
Garrett held her and I laid there numb like a mermaid on a rock. Of course I never missed the chance to push
my epidural button (it’s the best video game I’ve played) including 2 minutes
before she came out which gave me an extra dose of complete paralysis. It took
3 hours (imagine being numb for all of church) until I could finally get
sensation back enough to get in the wheelchair and go to the recovery suite
down the hall.
During that time Em, my
mom and the girls came to visit. After
seeing the hospital lunch, a peanut butter honey sandwich sounded divine. They
brought the sandwich, balloons, signs and the car seat. I doubt there is
a sight that could have made my heart feel happier than seeing them all in the
doorway and so excited to see their new sister.
There is nothing better than
family. Especially family meeting the new team member. The girls were
completely thrilled to meet her. I was completely thrilled about not being
pregnant anymore. Everyone was a winner.
The rest of the day was so fun. We talked about what to name
her, napped, called family, did our dutiful Instagram posting, had my uterus
mashed every few hours like they were kneading bread dough with my belly, went
to the bathroom with all the new accessories (post birth bathroom accessories
are great…water bottle, more sumo pads, ice packs, wipes, the works, it’s an
event all by itself). I felt so happy knowing my girls were home pretending something wild with my mother who was rocking their worlds. Dana, Kyndra and
Jessalee came in the evening which was so fun.
Gar picked up Texas Roadhouse and cold stone (per my request) for me and
the nurses and then tried to sleep.
Sleeping at the hospital is utterly and completely futile. It
seems like every hour the uterus masher comes in to do some kneading, or
someone wants to take your blood at 3 am, or you have to get a critical blood
pressure taken in the middle of the night.
Someone has something to do every hour which makes sleeping nigh unto
impossible.
Not to mention the fact that
they bring the babe in every 3 hours for nursing.
Sleeping was a joke.
By 4 am I was completely wiped out. The nice
nurse walked in and said, “It’s time to feed your baby.” I responded, “Uh huh,”
and then rolled over and kept sleeping. Finally she woke up Garrett and gave
the baby to him and told him to wake me up.
By the time the sun shone I was ready and excited to get back to my own
bed and my own shower and sleep without someone wanting to come chat about
taking my blood in the middle of the night. Luckily, one of the nurses was our friend Reagan from our ward so we enjoyed an added hangout.
That morning we decided on the name Lucy Bliss. We both had
liked the name Lucy for the last few weeks. The runners up were Emma, Claire,
and Elizabeth. I have always thought the name Bliss was so cute and when
Garrett read the definition of what it meant, he was convinced. Bliss means, “supreme
happiness, blessed or complete joy.” We
both feel that this year has been a year of bliss. It is my far my favorite year of marriage and
we have been boggled at how blessed we have been this year. After making that monumental decision, we
filled out the paper work, got a flu shot against my wishes, packed up camp and
headed home.
She didn’t make a single sound the whole way back home. It felt so good to be back home. My grandma
and grandpa had driven up to meet her and Em had stayed with her kids so it was
a full house of humans we love. The whole
thing seemed surreal. It had only been
24 hours but it felt like everything had changed, and definitely for the
better. I haven’t talked with Lucy (we
have quite a language barrier considering she doesn’t talk) or even know
anything about her but I do know that I feel a deep and very real love for
her.
I know without a doubt I’m going to
make about a jigabillon mistakes raising her because I have no idea how to
raise humans but I also know that there are going to be some dang good family
vacations, talks, laughs and experiences in the process. And even though you
give up sleep, money, time and so many other things, there is nothing more
worth it on Earth.
