June 23

Six years ago today our lives were about to change forever.  I was in labor with Sassy, but I didn't know that yet either. . .   I had been up numerous times all night, but I didn't know what labor was--and I was a week early.  Plus I had an appointment later the next morning--my doctor was concerned that "Grennan" hadn't dropped so he had ordered pelvic x-rays to see if there was room.  The morning was miserable.  I drove myself over to the appointment (still not knowing that this was the real deal), painfully endured multiple x-rays (staying still while having contractions isn't an easy task!) and then finally, I decided to walk upstairs to see if my doctor would see me.  Sure enough, they strapped me up to a machine and I was in fact having contractions.  The bad news: I wasn't progressing and my doctor said it wasn't active labor.  Seriously?  It's going to get worse?  R then met me over at the prenatal specialist's office who looked at my x-rays and basically said: Baby is big, pelvis is small, looks like a c-section.  And I cried.  There's such a horrible stigma with a c-section.  In fact, we say that someone "HAS" to have one.  And I remember being horribly disappointed that I too HAD to have one.  "Lucky" for me, they told us that my labor wasn't going to do anything other than put me in pain, so they sent us home.

The afternoon is a blur.  I remember putting the bumper on the crib (because he/she HAD to have the bumper on. . . ) and emailing my graduate school professor to say that I wouldn't be finishing comps by the 26th.  :)  We got to the hospital and I just remember hurting--a LOT.  And they couldn't give me anything for the pain until I got my spinal.  One nurse, an absolute God-send, reassured me when I asked if I really had to have a c-section: "No, but you'd probably deliver a baby with a broken collarbone or shoulder. . . "  Wow.  OK, I'm good.  Let's do this.  (The same nurse recommended her own pediatrician to me and again, what a blessing Dr B is!)

It was finally time to go in.  And at that point, I just wanted him/her out.  I remember being really nervous that the spinal wasn't working because YES, I could feel when the anesthesiologist poked my leg and then he poked my arm and OW, Ok I really felt that. . .   Legs are numb after all.  Back in the other room, R had misunderstood and put his scrubs on OVER his clothes.  And consequently had to run back and frantically change--he barely got down in time!  (And unfortunately he forgot our camera. . . thanks to the nurses who gave us some Polaroids!) I didn't even know that they had started until I heard Dr. T and the nurses oohing and aahing over all the dark hair and eyelashes.  The anesthesiologist asked if R wanted to see so he stood up to look over the blue curtain. . .  and then he got to see HER arrive.  He said she looked like a "Sassy" (we had another name picked out too) and before I knew it, he was at my side with the most beautiful little bundle turned to my face.  I couldn't believe how gorgeous she was.  And the dark hair and complexion was shocking (not so much three years later when we got a carbon copy named Stinkus.)  She was just perfect.

And it no longer mattered that I had a c-section.  I suddenly realized how lucky we were.  I didn't have to have a c-section.  I got to.  So that she could be here.  She was safe.  She was healthy. She was perfect.  And we were ready.  I mean, the bumper was on the bed--what more could there be?  :)