Olivia, Your Incubation and Birth

Dear Olivia,

I'm not certain where to begin...

You weren't an easy pregnancy, and no, I am not exaggerating to give you grief at the time you read this. It's the absolute, complete truth. Once I found out that I was pregnant with you, I instantly got morning sickness. Not just morning. Morning. Noon. Night. Middle-of-the-night. Early morning. It was awful. The things I totally loved to eat – salads, Ranch dressing, chocolate, cucumbers – were a thing of the past because they left a funny, yet sickening, taste in my mouth.

I was always tired, but I think that also had a lot to do with your sister being so young and requiring a lot of my energy as well. I was also working full-time. It definitely wasn't the easiest time for me, making it one that I will never forget. It seems as though it didn't really matter after a while how hard it was, though, because we had you to welcome shortly.

However, about halfway through the pregnancy, I did start to feel better. I will have you know that you rode around in your dad's wheeling rig for about six months in my tummy. It was my mode of transportation to and from work. I think many people were amazed at how easily I could hoist myself up into it, but to me it felt pretty awkward. It wasn't until my tummy started rubbing against the steering wheel that I figured it wasn't going to work anymore. So then we purchased the luxury ride – my precious minivan.

Everything moved along fine with you up until the 33rd week of my pregnancy. The day of the 2006 SuperBowl, I started having contractions. It was no biggie. They were 15 minutes apart. Soon they were 10 minutes apart. And then they were 5 minutes apart. And then it was time to call the doctor. They wanted me to wait it out, lie down and drink water. They went away, but then they came back the next morning and I went in to see the doctor. Everything was fine, just horribly "making themselves very well known" Braxton-Hicks. I was sent home.

At my doctor's appointment at 36 weeks, I was informed that my doctor, the lovely Dr. H, was going on vacation the following week - for an entire week. After taking this to be what it was, I begged him not to go. "I had my first child at 37 weeks, remember??? You have to deliver this baby, and I'm almost certain she will come early, too." I was literally crying. He laughed and said, "Oh Jenna, you will be fine. You are not going to deliver next week." And I was silently plotting and wishing in my head that you would come that Sunday before he went on vacation, or hold out that entire week. I wanted Dr. H to deliver you. A small part of me did think you would wait until he got back...

You didn't wait, though. You had a mind of your own.

So, the day before you came into this world was February 21st. It was the first real day of my maternity leave, and I was overjoyed to start preparing for your arrival. I ran errands a good majority of the day, grabbed myself some lunch at the good old Panda Express, and hoped your father would come home early. I think he did. We picked up your sister at daycare, and then your father had this oh-so-fabulous idea.

It was a walk. We're not talking the usual 20 – 30 minute stroll that is the norm for our family. Nope. Your father heard that walking tends to induce labor. I reminded him that Dr. H was on vacation and that you could use a little more time in your cocoon. He was ready for you anyway. He led me on a wild goose chase (er, walk) all around the streets of our neighborhood. Seriously, it must have been at least 3 or 4 miles. And during this so-called "walk", he was telling me to do lunges as I was walking. This part was pretty funny, and no, I didn't do them. He made me laugh so hard that I thought maybe you were actually going to pop out. Your father then decides that "hey, maybe we should have dinner at Antonella's." So we walk there. And eat. Then we walk home. It was a lot of walking.

I'm exhausted. But, as I am relaxing on the sofa after your sister has gone to bed, I realize that if I just want to lie around tomorrow, I can do that. Not a problem. Your father goes to bed. I'm not tired enough to fall asleep yet, so I watch some television. I suddenly felt like I was starting to drift off to sleep and was so tired that I didn't want to get up and go to the bedroom, so I just rolled over on the sofa. I closed my eyes. Right as I started to drift off, it felt like someone punched me in the stomach. Hard. I think it was actually you kicking me. My water broke. I wondered if you had kicked me and if it actually made the the water break, but I have no clue. It was more than a small dribbling of water, so I knew right away that it was time.

I went to the bedroom and said in a very monotone voice to your father, "My water broke." He said, "What?? I just fell asleep." I didn't say anything to him but instead just stood there. "Jenna, you're joking, right? Because of the walk and everything and you waited to play it on me until I fell asleep. I'm going back to sleep." I told him I wasn't joking. We replayed that conversation about three times until I told him that I was going to call the doctor's office and tell them I was going to the hospital. He got up.

My bag was pre-packed and I was pretty much ready to go. We hadn't figured out what to do with your sister, though, because they don't allow children in the maternity ward, I guess. We had to get her stuff ready because she was going to go stay with your grandparents (your father's mom and dad). After we got everything ready, we drove to the hospital. We were waiting in the car for your grandparents to pick up your sister and say goodbye to her. Although, I should have went into the hospital immediately because all of that waiting and sitting and then standing up released so much water that I left a puddle in the hospital parking lot, not to mention that my pants were drenched, it was cold, and it felt like my pants were going to freeze to my legs.

I was extremely grouchy. Your father insisted on a wheelchair. I didn't want one. He made me get in one. And the whole time I was paranoid that someone was going to yell at me for leaving watered membranes all over that wheelchair, but the nurse insisted that it "happens all the time". Of course, I thought, through my gritted teeth.

We're all checked in and I am bummed out because Dr. H will not be delivering you. There was nothing I could do. The contractions had started, but they were pretty infrequent. I wasn't at all happy with the nurse that was assigned to me. I think she had too many patients to begin with, all of which were progressing fast. She kept claiming I was only dilated one or two centimeters. I knew this wasn't right. I think maybe that she just didn't want another patient that she was going to have to watch so closely.

It was 11:30 PM. I was tired. I was cranky. I just wanted a good night's sleep. It would have been so much easier. I had been running on empty because of having such a full day, especially with that super long walk. And I knew it was going to be a while.

The night dragged on. I wanted to kill your father at one point during the night. He kept falling asleep, while I sat there having contractions and was unable to fall asleep. I stared at him and hoped that my eyes would turn into lasers so that I could zap him with a slight shock. Didn't happen, of course. He ended up giving me a foot massage. I just wanted him to stay awake, but I should have realized that it would be good if one of us at least got a good night's sleep. Too late now. I didn't want to be alone, wanted some company.

So, in the middle of the night sometime, I requested the epidural. Apparently, the anesthesiologist was just sitting in her office watching the Olympics (I have to mention that these were on, so they were re-running them in the middle of night. I had something interesting to watch, at least.). This woman was scary, and boisterous, and loud as hell. At 3 AM, or whatever time it was, I really just wanted silence. She made my eardrums hurt, and I wanted to scream at her to "SHUT IT", but since she was sticking a rather large needle into my tiny spine, I was going to keep my lips tightened. And that's what I did. It hurt more than I remember the first time. Maybe it was because I was so incredibly tired.

The epidural kicked in for the most part. I sat there. The Olympics had re-started and I had already seen them once. I was so tired. I think I slept for 5 minutes maybe. Someone was prodding at me and woke me up, and that made me more tired than before. Then, I started crying. There was no way I was going to be able to do it. No way. I was too tired. I told your father that I wasn't going to be able to push you out. I had no energy to do so. He urged me to try to get some sleep.

Nope. I just sat there. The epidural started wearing off on one side. The contractions were strong. I started crying again. I pressed the "call nurse" button several times. She never came. I finally screamed at your father to go find her. She came in, for but a minute. She told me to lie on my right side, since that was the side it was wearing off on. I guess it would trickle down from the other side? Whatever. I followed what she said. The wearing off was getting worse on one side, while on the other it was completely numb. Something was definitely not right here. I started crying again.

Fortunately, they were doing a nurse shift change. A new nurse came in and she was extra nice to me. She wanted to get to the root of my crying, and unfortunately that made me cry more. Through my tears I told her I hated that other nurse, about the epidural and my side being numb and that I felt like the baby was coming even though mean nurse told me I was only 3 centimeters. She checked. I was 9, yes 9 centimeters. Mean nurse was so mean. I'm a brave soldier, too, for being able to feel those contractions on one side. I guess instead of screaming, they made me cry instead.

Let me backtrack a little bit. When the nice nurse came in, she said she was concerned. It was told to her that I lost a lot of fluid (remember how I mentioned earlier about at home and then again in the parking lot?). I guess this wasn't good. The fluid is needed for something, an easier delivery I think. This was never relayed to me. Evidently, the mean nurse told the nice nurse this and that she thought I should have a c-section. I think my eyes popped out of my head to say that mean nurse didn't tell me any of this and had only spent maybe 10 minutes with me all night long. So, the nice nurse explained that they were going to check the fluid level first, and if it was low, they were going to use some device to pump some fluid back in there (I wasn't paying too much attention as I kept thinking about having a c-section). If unsuccessful, then you would have to come out right away via c-section. They already called Dr. B, who was about to go off shift, and they were sending Dr. T. However, she did first want to check to see how much I was dilated before they got as far as doing anything else. Then, when she saw that I was reading nine centimeters, she called for them to quickly top off the epidural and bring in the staff to set up for delivery. It was time. You were ready.

Suddenly, I had an amazing adrenaline rush. The epidural was only working half-ass on one side, though. I didn't care. I was ready to push you out and looking forward to it, might I add. Dr. T showed up. Everything was set up. I begged to push. I had to push. Dr. T told me to start pushing at the next contraction. She turned around to put on her gloves. I said, "Contraction coming right now. I am pushing." I started pushing. Your father yelled, "OMG HER HEAD IS OUT!" Dr. T had been turned around, and turned back just in time to grab your head. Your father was ready to catch you. Seriously. I told them I stopped pushing and then was hearing everyone yell different things at me like "keep pushing" and "no, don't push” and "she's beautiful", and I scream "what do you people want me to do – push lightly or not push???" I pushed lightly. The rest of you came out and you pee'd and cried immediately.

Your Arrival
I loved the sound of your cry instantly. During part of my pregnancy, I often worried that there might be something wrong with you. I had multiple ultrasounds with you because they said you were small. Everything was fine, and you proved that you had lungs of steel immediately. You had a little bit of jaundice, so we had to have those lights on you for a few days, but other than that, you were just perfect. You were 4 pounds, 14 ounces. You were 17.25" tall. You were born at 8:23 am.

When you came out, you were put on my chest immediately. I cried, and I couldn't stop. You were so amazingly beautiful. I couldn't believe it, and I couldn't believe that you were mine. You were perfect, absolutely perfect. I couldn't stop looking at you, and you were immediately my "little bunny rabbit". You took a good look at me, too...a long, hard look. Then, you closed your eyes and happily went to sleep.

I held you close to me, kissed you, and whispered in your ear, "I love you, baby girl Olivia."

There's one thing that you should probably know because it is bound to come up – and that is why your father and I had you and your sister only 13 months apart. You weren't exactly planned. That doesn't matter at all because you were the best surprise I have ever gotten in my life. No, you weren't planned, but you were more than wanted. I couldn't wait for you to join our family, and I am so overjoyed that you are now a part of it.

You will probably never know how much you mean to me, and it is more than you will ever know.

I love you little O,
Mama