The Scoop

The week leading up to Scarlett's birthday I had been having "fake labor" contractions (whatever that means) and was frustrated with all the psyching out that was happening. Every time they'd increase in intensity, we'd start to time them and they'd choke on us. I had to tell Jason and my mom to stop asking when my last contraction was because I was finding myself resisting the urge to lie about them, like I was somehow letting everyone down by saying "not for a while," (as if anyone was more eager for the moment to arrive than I was). But Tuesday I woke up feeling a little more chipper for some reason. I woke up with an extra hop in my waddle that morning. I got out of bed early and got into the bath. I actually washed my hair, did my make-up and got all ready for the day. I even shaved my armpits. (All of these things considered shocking behavior during pregnancy. Normally deemed downright offensive.)

I got on my knees and said my morning prayers. For the first time I actually petitioned to the Lord, "I really really want to have this baby now. Heavenly Father, can I please go into labor today?" I ended up apologizing shortly after because I was still a week away from my due date and thought maybe it was hasty and impatient of me. I ended up telling Him I felt silly for asking for that because there were so many people in the world who were praying for deliverance from real tribulation, needing real help, when I was here just feeling super hormonal and achy and uncomfortable. Then I told him the reasons why I would be okay with it if I stayed pregnant another week just in case He thought that was best. THEN I told him "But I really DO want to go into labor today, so I hope I didn't weaken my request by telling you I feel silly asking for it," and then followed up with, "Forget I said anything about it." (Prayers frequently go like this for me. I often have to apologize for the wandering tangents.) Then I sat spacing out wondering if it was indeed selfish of me to pray to have the baby right then or if it was okay. Then I got hungry for breakfast.

Anyway, around 3:30 that afternoon I started another round of contractions, but didn't think much of it at first so I told no one. When an hour had passed and they were consistently 5 minutes apart, I let Jason and my mom know, and my mom immediately started writing the times down and dancing around our house in jubilation. They were gradually getting more intense so we decided to head to the hospital around 6:30 that evening.

It was about 7 pm when we got all checked in, I got into my prom gown, and the nurse (Leeann was her name) checked me to see how I far dilated I was. I was between 3 and 4 centimeters. She said we would watch the contractions and if I hadn't progressed in an hour that they'd give me a shot of morphine in the hip and probably have to send me home. I knew we were not going home, but had to make LeeAnn think she wore the pants. I hadn't progressed when she checked me again, even though my contractions were really starting to get a lot harder. For some reason when she checked me though, Scarlett's heart rate went way up, so she said they wanted to watch that for a little while before deciding what to do. Scarlett's heartrate stayed in the 180 range for about 45 minutes, we had no idea why, but they when she checked me again I was over 4 centimeters so she said we would stay. Then baby's heartrate went almost immediately back into normal range, and we were in business. She knew she had to put on a little show so mom and dad didn't have to insist that we were serious about having this baby, so that's just what she did.

I got my epidural around 10 pm when I was to 5 centimeters, and my mom and Jason's mom came to the hospital shortly after. Water broke on it's own around 10:30 when I was almost to a 6. 3 hours later, at 1:30, I was to a 10, and a mere 3 pushes later, at 1:51 AM, Scarlett was laying on my chest doing some of that most beautiful newborn hollaring. She didn't cry much though. Just made enough noise to let us know she had arrived. My jaw dropped when they put her on the scale. 8 lbs 10 oz coming a week early was a surprise, doctor had guessed she'd be around a 7 pounder. It did however make me feel less silly about all the stink I was putting up about being ready to have her. Both of my birthing experiences have been supremely spiritual experiences for me. And rightly so, but I guess I forget what this is really all about sometimes in the hustle and bustle of planning for baby. It was humbling and wonderful and life-changing.

(I had to tell Jason to put the camera away during contractions.)

You forget how absolutely angelic having a newby is. Her noises, her smell, her skin, her sneezes and yawns. She is so perfect. I am completely enamored. Jason is over the moon for her as well, even though he felt the need to announce a few days before she was born, "I just have to say Lucy will always be my favorite. I just have to get that out there." Lucy is doing really well so far with everything. She loves pointing at all of her features and telling us what they are. "Eye... mouth...nose." Grammy has been here entertaining her to no end, so I'm sure that's softening the transition.

I am in disbelief that she isn't even 3 days old yet. Time is a strange thing. It still hasn't sunk in completely that we are a family of 4. I feel like I should still be in high school or something. We are loving getting to know her. She is so soft. We are happy and thankful and sleep deprived and so many things. La vida es bella.