Lucy Pea's BIRTH-day!

 

  So it seems almost common practice to share with everyone your birth story now-a-days!  So, since Lucy just turned 1 a few days ago, I thought it would be appropriate and bittersweet to share. 
  In January of 2010, we decided it was time to try for baby #2.  And, as if all we had to do was snap our fingers, we were pregnant and sharing it with the world in February! Sadly, we lost our baby on March 17th, even after two great ultrasounds with reassuring heartbeats.  We were devastated.  Neither one of us has ever experienced such a loss and we were hurting.  Fortunately we have a relationship with the Creator of the world, Christ, who held our hands and hearts over the weeks and months to come, comforting us and teaching us that He knows best.  And also that we will, one day, hold that baby in our arms. {I can't wait to love on them!}
  My OB informed us that it was best to wait at least one cycle before trying again, and that we did.  During that month or so before trying again we flipped back and forth in regards to a decision of trying again.  One day it was "I never want to go through that again, lets just quit and be happy with one child".  The next day it was "if God wants to bless us with another child, then we will gladly take it!"
   In May, we started trying again and wouldn't you know, we got pregnant!  This time was different.  This time we held our breaths.  This time we weren't jumping up and down and shouting it to the world.  If this baby/pregnancy wasn't going to make it, we wanted to privately deal with it. So, aside from our parents and a very few select friends, we didn't announce it to the world until I was well past 12 weeks and even then, we held our breaths.  Because the pain was still there.  The hole in our hearts had not quite healed.  Even now, almost 2 years later, the thought still breaks my heart.
  Back to Lucy!  My pregnancy was a breeze, a little nausea here and there, some uncomfortable nights, a little bit of heartburn, odd cravings of salad, but not a thing to complain about.  I felt completely and totally blessed to be pregnant.  I was not about to complain about something that is such a blessing and so precious; especially since it could be taken away so easily.
  Unlike my delivery with Noah, when I was induced, I wanted to go into labor on my own this time.  BUT, because I am a little controlling/OCD with certain areas of my life, I asked my doctor to induce me if I  hadn't gone into labor by 40 weeks.  Silly, I know, but I couldn't stand waiting and if I was induced, I would have everything neatly organized and ready for her arrival; as well as childcare arranged for Mr Noah.
  As the date of my induction got closer, the more and more I wanted to go into labor on my own.  My induction was set for Tuesday, January 25th.  On the evening of the 23rd, I told Adam that something needed to happen!  We gotta get this thing going!  After reading several books and talking to several people, we did what we needed to do { :) } to try to help move things along.  {TMI, I know, but its part of the STORY!} 
  We both snuggled into bed around 11pm and to my delight I was awaken by a nice little contration at 1am.  I was thrilled to wake up and monitor them.  In fact, I played scrabble online with my brother until the wee hours of the morning, when he finally crashed.  The contractions were always 4-5 minutes apart.  VERY regular, but no pain involved.  I cleaned the house, played on the computer, anything I could to stay awake, because I was too excited to go back to sleep since they were so regular.  Finally, at 5am, I called my OB and told her it had been 4 hours and there was starting to be a little discomfort.  Since I live an hour from the hospital, she told me to head in and they would check me.
  After kissing Noah good-bye and leaving him with my in-laws, we arrived at Christ Hospital to find that I was 3 cm.  Yay, I was doing something!  However, they were not as impressed or excited as Adam and I were!  They told me to walk around for an hour or two and if I progressed they would keep me, if not, back home I would go. 
  After two hours of pacing, the contractions were MUCH more noticable.  Not "I'm going to kill you if I don't have an epidural now!" painful, but they made themselves known.  A new nurse came to check me and she wasn't impressed.  She said I was still 3cm and that I should come back or call later if they get worse.  This is when I pulled out the whole "I wanna talk to my doc" card.  So after talking to the doctor on the phone, they gave me two options...come back at 5pm when they have time to induce me or go eat breakfast somewhere, walk around, and we'll check you later in our office. 
  By this time my mom was at the hospital and said "Yay, lets go to Frisches, for the breakfast bar!"  So, thats where we went.  During the meal at Frisches, between each bite, I had to walk to the bathroom to gather my wits and breath through each contraction.  They were coming on FULL force.  I was swaying back and forth, moaning, you name it.  In the lobby, in the dining room, and in the bathroom at Frisches.  Thank goodness it was a Monday morning and everyone was at work and night dining in :)  My mom religiously wrote down the times of each contraction and Adam tried to keep the mood light by making us laugh through breackfast.  The contractions were now 3 minutes apart..exactly.  I decided that I wanted to go home and rest, since I hadn't slept all night, but, before we had a chance to get a mile down the road Adam and my mom made the executive decision to turn the car around and have me checked; just because we live a good distance away and because they were much more painful and so close together. 
  When we got to my OB's office, they got me in quickly and he said I was a good 4-5cm!  "Head to the hospital!"  YAY!  He didn't have to tell me twice :)  Upon arrival I told them that I wanted to work through the contractions, but wasn't completely against an epidural.  They drew my blood to make sure my counts were good since I had low platelets throughout the pregnancy. 
  After complaining that I was in much more pain an hour or so later they checked me again.  I had progressed to 5-6cm.  That was it. This was as far as I could go.  I needed that epidural.  I needed that relief, some sleep, a break.  In between each contraction I practiced breathing and imagery.  It helped tremendously.  I felt like a champ making it that far, but was not interested in going any farther!  Still waiting on my lab results, they were hesitant, but went ahead and gave me the epidural.  And thank goodness they did, because my count came back even lower and the anesthesiologist said had they known they were that low, they may have reconsidered.  I was right there on the cusp of "should we let her, should we not."
  It was almost immediate gratification.  Within 10 minutes, my mom and I were playing a lovely game of scrabble, Adam went to grab a bite to eat and we were back to laughing and goofing around.  I decided I needed to catch a nap since I had been up the whole night before, but as I was repositioning myself, POP, and with that I called the nurse to tell her my water had broken!  Whew! Another thing I was hoping would happen on its own.  For some reason I didn't want the doctor doing it, and thankfully, my body kicked into gear and knew what it needed to do.  It wasn't much more than an hour or two later when I was ready to push.
  I was on a mission.  I knew what I needed to do.  I had instructed the anesthesiologist not to give me too much medication through the epidural because I wanted to feel it in order to push more effectively as well as the fact that I wanted to get up and move once it was over!  Well, I felt it alright.  And I think because I felt it, thats why it only took 3 pushes to get her out.  I was {determined} to get her out as quick as I could because I knew that she would be on my chest and the pain would subside. 
  At 4:59 pm, she was in my arms.  My perfect Lucy Pea.  It wasn't until that moment did I realize why God had everything happen the way it did; so that I would have Lucy and Lucy would have me.  The feeling is indescribable, mesmerizing, and breath taking.

  
  Everyone was there to visit and we even had a wonderful photographer come share her talents and snap some shots.  The birth was everything I could've hoped for.  I had incredible support, a wonderful doctor, and a healthy baby girl.  I couldn't stop thanking God for her. 
  And here we are, a year later.  So far, each year of my life has gotten better and better.  I look forward to the blessings that God has in store for us.  And, although I know we don't deserve them, I make sure He knows everyday how thankful I am for each one of them.

I know that was WAY too long, but it was fun and much needed therapy for me. 
Thanks for sticking with it until the end!

Can't wait to hear/read more of your great birth stories!