June in August

     Let me first off say that it has been 2+ weeks since this blessed event took place and I am sorry about the lack of timeliness on my part. The truth is that having two children is CRAZY. Having one child is a little crazy sometimes, but having two is all crazy at all times. Right now I have one again, since Luke took Ivy to church, so I can mostly manage.

    Secondly, I apologize to those faithful blog readers who thought they had the inside scoop on our second baby's name and then felt shocked, horrified, betrayed, and disappointed when we named her something else. It was actually a fairly last minute decision. We were set on Helen, but in the days before her birth, I found myself not loving the name. People would refer to random things as "Helen's," like "Helen's clothes" or "Helen's diapers" or whatever and I was very turned off by it. Maybe it's just that Helen doesn't seem like a baby name, but I think it just wasn't meant to be for this baby. So when Luke asked me if I was sure about the name Helen, I said no, and we started more or less from scratch. We had a short list, but when Luke suggested the name June, it immediately shot to the top for me, but we decided to wait until we saw her to make a decision.

    My official due date was September 5th, but I had been measuring a week bigger at my last ultrasound, and I was hoping to have the baby sooner. On the weekend of August 24th-25th, I was having lots of cramps and feeling generally terrible. I was certain I would go into labor soon, since that's what happened with Ivy, but I didn't, and at my appointment on Monday, I was just mad. It's so miserable to have nothing to show for it. At least when I was having cramps and feeling all gross, it could have turned into legit contractions and then a baby, but that all stopped and I was impatient as all get out. So when my doctor told me he would induce labor that Thursday, I said heck yes. Our great friends, the Coopers, offered to take Ivy whenever we wanted, so we decided to bring her over Wednesday night.

   Thursday morning at 5:30 AM, after sleeping about 4 hours total, we checked in at the hospital. I was feeling all sorts of conflicting feelings. I was excited and a little nervous - it's really not too fun to get all sorts of IVs and have nurses all up in your business. All that pre-baby stuff. Blegh. It turns out, in my case, being induced was really, really not fun. And to be honest, I'm not sure I would ever voluntarily do an induction again. Part of that was my fault, I think, because I wanted to feel a few contractions before I got an epidural, and the timing just ended up being bad bad bad.

At 6:41, they started the pitocen, which causes contractions.

At 7:58, my doctor broke my water, and I asked for an epidural at the earliest convenience. My contractions were still manageable, but I knew from past experience that once my water is broken, things get a whole lot more painful and intense.

At 9:03, I was given an epidural, but then the anesthesiologist was called away on some emergency, so I basically had a needle in my back doing nothing. I was given some medication to take the edge off, but eventually it wasn't enough. It would take off the pressure, but the knife-like, stabbing pain remained, and I told Luke that I felt like I was being tortured. I was freezing, starving, and essentially chained to this bed, able to eat nothing but ice chips, and I was beginning to seriously hate myself for wanting an induction. I think if I had gone into labor naturally, then at least I would have had the assurance that my body was ready and that the contractions were happening at a natural pace and I could sort of anticipate them. Not so with this induction.

At 10:16, I was at a 6, still waiting for the anesthesiologist to come back and bring some sweet relief.

At 10:24, she finally did, but it still took another half hour for it to kick in.

At 11:00, I felt some really intense contractions. Luckily, at that point, I was numb to where I could feel the pressure and the movement of the baby, but not the stabbing pain. It was actually an awesome feeling, and I told Luke to call for the nurse.

At 11:03, I was at a 10 and ready to push. The baby wasn't quite where she needed to be, so I pushed with the nurse and we waited for the doctor. Luke had told me that he wanted to cut the cord this time, something he hadn't done with Ivy, but he was still unsure about watching the whole thing. When the time came, though, the doctor was like "Get on down here, Dad!" and he did. I'm sure it was a little scarring, but it was so powerful to share that experience together.

At 11:35, she was born! They plopped her right on my chest, which was a little weird, but I instantly started to cry and I couldn't stop smiling. She started squalling immediately and her skin turned bright red before my eyes. Wow.

She was amazing. At 7 pounds, 5 ounces, she was bigger than Ivy had been, and looked generally healthier. She started nursing right away and was so alert. Sadly, my epidural seemed to have kicked in full force after the fact, and I couldn't walk at all until 3:30 or so that afternoon. They relocated us to the recovery room and I couldn't wait for Ivy to meet her sister. Luke went and got me some Chick-fil-A chicken nuggets and McDonald's hot chocolate, which I recommend as a perfect reward for childbirth.

We decided that Luke should take Ivy home after the Coopers dropped her off at the hospital, and I would stay overnight alone. We wanted to leave hospital as soon as possible, since our insurance charges us $500 a night, so it wasn't too big of a deal, but needless to say, I was totally ready to go home in the morning. They poke and prod you every 4 hours, tell you lots of stuff you already know, whisk your baby away all the time, and while I am grateful for modern medicine, I missed Ivy SO much.

So then we came home the next day and everything was magic. Luke took a few days off and then Nick and his family and Kristen and Gavin came down for the weekend. Then last week Luke's mom arrived and kept things spotless and fed us and tomorrow will be the first day that it's all me. I'm terrified, to be honest, but one thing I have going for me is this:

Ivy has never been anything but loving to June, or "Shoo-nee" as she calls her. There is nothing cuter. 

Here is a little video of them meeting for the first time. She was kind of indifferent, but has since graduated to kissing, soft touches, sniffing and sometimes licking. Why? I don't know. Why not?

Junie meeting Aunt Kristen

Reading with Grandma

And this is June today. She had gained almost a pound and a half by her two week appointment, and is not far from graduating out of newborn clothes and diapers. I just hope she doesn't pass up Ivy too quickly. That might be awkward for all of us. 

And that is how we became the parents of two children. Like I said, it's crazy. But I think things will get easier when June starts sleeping longer and at more regular intervals and I can plan things. But for the foreseeable future, I plan on staying home and keeping my girls well-loved and adequately fed. That is a formidable task in and of itself, but I'm loving it so far.