three years ago today

happy birthday to my baby girl. here's the story, beginning a few days earlier:

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Saturday, February 11, 2006, 9:39pm

For the last few days I felt like my abs are about to rip open down the middle above my belly button. Is there anything I can do about the pain? It hurts to laugh, it hurts to cough or sneeze, it hurts to wear pants, it hurts to walk, it hurts to touch! Anyone? Please, somebody, tell me that you had this too and I'm not the only freak with hurting abs!

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Monday, February 13, 2006, 2:09pm

I feel so cheated!

Yesterday I got to play in my concert without any incident. Whee! I was joking to the other people in the orchestra that I'm in the clear to go into labor or for my water to break at 6:15pm, when the concert ends. Well, I got home, hung out with my daughter and husband for a little while, and then went to bed early. My husband and I normally don't go to bed until like 1, so it is kind of a treat for me to go to bed early. (Yeah, I know, I'm weird like that.) Anyways, around 12:30am I woke up from my evening nap (hah!) and my husband was still awake, so we just got to talking. We had a really good talk. Talking about our plans for the future, his job, a pending promotion, a different pending job offer... it was a really really good talk. Haven't had one of those in a long time.

Well, finally around 1:30am or so we got tired so we turned out the lights and rolled over to go to sleep. I started feeling contractions here and there (a bit stronger than Braxton-Hicks contractions -- they'd start with a general tightening, then finish off with a big surge of pain near the cervix), and I decided to stay up and start timing them. They were pretty regular, about 5-8 minutes apart. I woke up my husband around 3:30 and told him to not plan to go to work today. We did a frantic packing of the hospital bags, woke up our 2-year-old and loaded her up the car, called the doctor, and headed out to the hospital at around 4:45am. I joked to my husband that the baby must have waited for me to play in the concert and then decided to come right after that.

Once we're in the hospital, I got hooked up to a monitor, had an internal exam, and was found to be 3cm. (I had an appointment just a day and a half earlier, and was 2cm at that point.) We decided to walk the halls, and get checked again in an hour. Around 7am I'm determined still to be a good 3cm and my contractions have slowed down to almost nothing!!! The doctor comes to check me at 8am, I'm still 3cm, and we decide to have me walk some more. Again at 11:30 I'm still 3cm, and after talking with the doctor, we decide to send me home. Waaaaahhhhh!!!

Not that I want to have the baby today or anything (we're so far from ready it's not even funny), but I can't help but feel cheated. Cheated of my good night's sleep, cheated of my husband's sleep, cheated of my 2-year-old daughter's sleep. Cheated of getting my hopes up. Cheated of the precious gas that was spent driving 30 mins each way to and from the hospital. *sigh*

And I'm still getting contractions. Still just as strong. But only about once every hour or so.

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Monday night, February 13, 2006, around 9pm.

We went to the mall tonight to pick out the pictures we'd like to have from my pregnancy photo shoot the Saturday before. While we're there, looking at pictures, I suddenly got really quiet. The guy at the photo studio asked me what I was thinking, since I was just kinda' staring at the pictures and not having much of a facial expression at all. (Normally I'm quite gregarious and my husband's always looking for my "off" switch.) My response? "Oh, nothing... I'm just having a contraction."

You should've seen the look on his face!

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Tuesday morning, February 14, 2006.

Around 5am I woke up again with contractions. They're probably false labor again, so I ignored it as best as I could, but they still came every 5-6 minutes. Around 6am my husband asked if I'm okay (I guess my stirring woke him up). I said that I'm having contractions again, so he asked if we should call the doctor. I was afraid of calling the doctor again at such an unholy hour, so we decided to wait until at least 7. I was still convinced that this is just false labor, so he took a shower, and then I decided I'd take a shower. The nerd in me was fascinated with the fact that I knew exactly what time it was just from my contractions. After my shower, still in denial, we decided to have breakfast (two years earlier when I was in the hospital to give birth to my firstborn, they wouldn't let me eat anything, so I made sure I got myself something to eat this time).

Finally around 7 we decided to call the doctor, and the first question she had for me, of course, was "are these contractions different from those you had yesterday morning?" I wasn't completely sure, but thought they *might* be a little harder, so she recommended that we get to the hospital.

We finished up breakfast, got Eliz, and began our drive to the hospital. It was around 8am (we took our time, figuring that it's just false labor again) so we just moseyed along with the rush-hour traffic. It took us a good 35-40 minutes to get there, and by the time I was there, contractions were coming a little faster and much harder. About 25 minutes into the drive I felt it was getting unbearable -- two years earlier when I was in labor with my first one, this is about the point of pain when I asked for my epidural. I decided this was enough pain, and that I'll ask for the epidural as soon as we get to the hospital. This was so different from the day before, when I sauntered into the hospital, practically singing "I think I'm in labor." This time I staggered in, between contractions, and I guess the expression on my face said everything to the nurses. I wanted to get under some hot water again, to ease the pain, but they said that they had to monitor me and check my dilation first. I reluctantly agreed, figuring that once they get the formalities out of the way I can hop into the shower and get that hot water on my back.

So they checked me and it turned out that I was already 8cm dilated. Too late for an epidural, the doctor said. And not only that, but I'll be ready to push in about an hour or two. What!??? I was expecting to hang out and chill with my epidural for a few hours first, and then maybe sometime in the afternoon have the baby. And my poor husband, I think he wanted the pain relief more than I did. He asked the doctor a few times if there's anything that can be done about the pain. She assured him that there was nothing to do but to just go through it since it's too late.

So here I was, hanging out and trying to chill with my contractions, and some lady walked in asking if it's okay for some student nurses to come and observe the birth, since it'll be an unmedicated one. Uhhh, okay, I guess. I'm in labor and can't really think clearly, so whatever.

A few contractions later I realize hey, waitaminnit, this is a bunch of strangers coming in to see me push a baby out of my hoohaa, and the least they can do is babysit my two-year-old in a different room so she doesn't have to witness all of this! So I guess it worked out -- we have a babysitter!

Anyways, around 10am I was determined to be fully dilated, so they instructed me to push. No epidural, just a bunch of ladies that I don't know, one counting to ten every time I push (one of my personal pet peeves), and another telling me "how wonderful it is to be bringing a baby into the world" (that particular wording, I discovered, is another one of my personal pet peeves).

Finally at 10:29am, Abi (she prefers Iga) came out, looking just like her daddy, just like her big sister did when she was born. I was a little disappointed, not because looking like daddy is a bad thing, but because I was hoping that at least one of my two kids would look anything like me. Oh well, she's a beautiful baby, and still is a beautiful three-year-old girl today.

The crazy thing was, the first time around I gained 31 pounds, and Eliz came out 7 pounds, 7 ounces. This time I gained 11 pounds, and Abi came out 8 pounds, 2 ounces. Okay, I guess it doesn't always mean that bigger weight gain means bigger babies!

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As a baby she was even easier than Eliz. Even in the hospital she was sleeping 5 hours at night, and she hardly cried either. Just like her big sister, she nursed like a champ and was never picky with clothes or food. To have gotten lucky twice, I would love to say it was my superb parenting skills that made my children this way, but you and I both know, it was all God's grace.

I nursed my firstborn for 13 months, so I figured I'd nurse my secondborn until she starts walking. Little did I know that she'd wait until weaning (at 16 months) to start walking (a few days shy of 18 months)! For the longest time she'd communicate with a two-syllable "Ah-ah?" It really meant anything between "I'm sitting here and having a good time" to "Let's play!" Soon after that was her "Weng-oh-weng-oh-weng-oh-weng." It took us a few weeks to realize that that was her way asking "What is this?" Nowadays she loves to sing and dance, she loves to jump around and play with her big sister. She is very good about waiting her turn for things, and even her Terrible Two wasn't really that terrible. I guess now that she's three, I can't say she's a baby anymore, especially since she's now fully potty-trained, sleeps in a big-girl bed, and is beginning to learn the alphabet and the sounds of each letter too. Oh well, she'll always be my baby.

Happy birthday, my baby. I love you. You're truly your parents' joy. May God bless you and keep you in the palm of His hand. May he love you and call you his own, and may you grow into a woman who fears the Lord and therefore is greatly to be praised.