Every day I woke up thinking today would be the day. I had a reason why that day should be the one. The 2nd because it was Caleb’s birthday. The 9th would only make it one week from Caleb’s. The 10th was my pick. That next weekend so that I could get out of our huge Christmas event at church. The 16th was my mom’s pick. My sister’s birthday is on the 20th but I knew there would be no way I would still be pregnant by then. The list goes on. After a while though, I really didn’t care when this baby decided to be born. I was ready.
I love being pregnant. Really I do. It’s the only time in that child’s life when I know exactly where he is and what he is eating. But also it’s the only time when I can go to church not wearing a girdle and not care. I am “allowed” to be fat and no one can say anything. And if they do mention my huge belly, I can rip off their heads and blame it on the hormones. I really do enjoy being pregnant.
And speaking of large bellies… sometime in late December I actually measured my abdomen. I took the measuring tape and wrapped it around my mid section. I couldn’t see the number but I knew I was close to the end of the tape. Therefore, I was guessing around 32-33 inches or so. The problem was that the measuring tape wasn’t a yard long as I had assumed. It was a seamstress’s tool that measured much larger. My girth was 54 inches! That is taller than some women! (Right, Sandy?)
All of the dates we had picked had come and gone. It was now the week of Christmas. And who wants to have a baby the week of Christmas? Better yet who wants to share their birthday with Jesus? Talk about playing second fiddle.
The morning of the 23rd I woke up with the flu. I could not keep anything down--not even water. I had three kids home on winter break who really didn’t care that Mommy was sick. I called the OB unit and they told me to come in for a four-hour monitor and IV fluids. I quickly jumped at the chance to have a team of nurses taking care of me for half of a day. I called my mom to come and watch the aforementioned energy filled children, packed my bags and drove myself to the hospital.
As I pulled into the parking lot contractions had started but were very weak. I knew what they were supposed to feel like having done this a number of times before, yet they were contractions nonetheless. The nurses checked me and determined that I should go ahead and stay the night to monitor the baby’s fluid levels because mine were so low.
It was then that I knew I was--finally--having a baby that day. We filled the hot tub for me to sit in while we waited for Matt to get there from work. Some wonderful friends came and sat with me while I waited. The contractions finally started resembling those that I had experienced in previous pregnancies.
I had always been told that deliveries get easier the more babies you have, however, this one was not easy. Nothing about it was. The pain was worse than any of the others. I still had the flu, therefore, still vomiting. And because he was so large, he got stuck with just his head and one arm out. The doctor’s called it shoulder dystocia. Matt called it scary. I called it painful.
But all is well that end well. Zechariah Daniel entered our world just before 4:00 in the afternoon weighing a whopping 9 lbs 13 ozs! And life has not been the same since.
Happy First Birthday Zech! You make the world a brighter place everyday. And at this rate you are going to make a great linebacker with those huge shoulders that got stuck. I love you sweetheart.
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