It's all in the details, ALL the gory details...

I have never enjoyed being pregnant.  I always love the thought of having a new baby, but getting it here is not a piece of cake for me.  This last pregnancy sealed the deal for me, I was done!  I will never say for sure that this is our last, because I do believe in personal revelation but, as far as I can see, this is the last baby my body will push out.  So, I thought maybe I would try to go the good ol' fashion route and deliver without any pain medications.  Some, like my dear husband, wonder why I would ever think of it.  And I totally understand, drugs are here for our benefit.  Why do anything harder than it has to be right?  But there was always something inside me wondering what it would be like.  What it would be to tap into what my body was created to do.  I never thought it was something I had to do or needed to do to be a real woman.  Because one way or another, I have conceived, carried, and birthed three human beings and that alone proves I am woman!  But it was a challenge for me and something that never really left my curiosity.  I would ask questions of friends and family who had done it.  Countless questions, probing to see if I really wanted to do it.  But I never left those conversations feeling satisfied or like I had figured it out.  It was just something I was going to have to experience for myself.

After being diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes for the first time and sufficiently freaking out about having a huge baby, induced with pitocin, and many other potential problems,  I pretty much put the thoughts of delivering sans medication out of my head.  I panicked, thinking I could never push out a large baby, my other two were only 6 point some odd pounds and I was told from the start that I had a "strange pelvic inlet"-- whatever that means.  Basically I talked myself right out of it way too easily.  But the thought never left my mind.  In fact, the night before I was scheduled to be induced I decided to re-visit the idea....  I was at my baby shower, talking to my friend who had 3 of her 4 girls without medication and would totally do it again.  She told me some tricks and tips she uses to get through it all and even eased my concerns of being one of those ladies who freaks out and screams at anyone and everyone.  I didn't want to be that lady.  I wanted to stay inside my head and be rational so I could be present and really experience it fully.  It wasn't something I wanted to do just to say I had done it, it was something that I really wanted to experience and know what it was like.  I had decided to try. Ha, well, I have said that before, like two times.  "I will see how it goes and try it without the meds."  And the two times I said that, I put in a valiant effort then got scared, right around 7 cm.  But this time was different, I was not just going to try, I was going to do it unless something happened that would be dangerous to me or that baby.  There, I said it, and it was done.  

I told my very inexperienced support team the news to get as much encouragement as I could.  Now I don't say inexperienced to be rude, they just are, we all are!  We have support person number one, my very pro-epidural husband who really doesn't like to see his wife in any pain, especially as a result of something that he had part in creating.  And support person number two, my mother, who has had two babies... via C-section.  So you see, none of us had ever done this, but we were all in it together and little did we know, we were all going to go through pain in our own way.

Ronnie and I arrived at the hospital at 5am (who does that to a pregnant person?)  Where I was promptly hooked up to 5 different IV bags.  After the nurses finally found my veins, and a recliner with some oj for my sheet white husband, we were ready to roll.  They started pumping me with fluids-- bag number one- just some  regular fluids to keep me hydrated, bag two-- my burn the crap out of my veins penicillin for the Group B strep that I tested positive for 7 years ago and never since!, bag three and four-- my glucose and insulin for the GD, and bag five-- the rip roarin' pitocin to get the party started!  I was totally hooked up!  I fell right into some pretty regular contractions, just none that knocked the wind out of my sails. 

My first nurse said goodbye and introduced me to Mary, the nurse that would be with me the rest of my delivery.  Mary was nice, she was friendly, somewhat funny, strait to the point, and brutally honest.  All good things I guess, until she looked me in the eye and said "honey, I just have to be honest with you, I am very pro-epidural, I think they are a gift from God."  In my head I heard, "honey, you are crazy for trying to do this without and epidural, I am not happy about it and won't be very supportive, good luck to ya!"  Then she laid into all the statistics of how 90% of the deliveries are with an epidural and how much more relaxed and enjoyable the labors are...  blah blah blah...  I stood there in my pretty little gown and just smiled.  Glancing over at my mom a few times trying to read her death glare.  Wondering if it was directed at Mary for discouraging me or if it was directed at me for putting her through this.  Little did they know, Mary's little pep talk fueled my fire.  I was bound and determined to prove Mary wrong and show her that I wasn't going to scream for the epidural last minute.  I may make her get off her stool (that was practically glued to her behind) a bit more to re-adjust my monitor from all my position changing but it was only good for her.  Oh yes, I was going to conquer this, and Miss Mary.

oh Mary... (doesn't she slightly remind you of Ursula from the Little Mermaid?)

Dr. H greeted me around 7am and decided that once I had my 2 doses of burn the crap out of my veins penicillin, he would break my water and get this show on the road!  That was verbally promised for around 10am.  Well, 1pm rolled around before Dr. H showed his blue little scrubs again.  It was okay, he's a busy man and I wasn't in too much pain... yet...  Around 2pm he broke my water and that baby was free to bust a move right on out of there.  And that she did.  I dilated from a 4 to an 8 in about an hour.  When I heard the news I was feeling good and ready to go through with it.  One last check from Miss Mary to make sure I wasn't needing the epidural and I was on my way.  8-10 cm was rough, I was rocking, bouncing, kneeling, swaying, and breathing away those contractions.  They were intense but I could get through them because they went away and I had a good 60 seconds of recovery before another one hit.  I was still in my head, calm, thinking through the pain and not once did I want to ask for the meds.  That was until I was totally dilated and this thing was coming out of me.  Dr. H waited patiently in the hall while I tried to get comfortable on the bed-- "not happening Mary, let me sit up!"  Then he got into position and calmly talked me through it.  At this point there was not much relief between contractions, I felt like my hips were breaking open, and I even remember wondering if she took a wrong turn in there and was coming out my... well... never mind.  I was in pain that I had never imagined possible and it freaked me out.  I totally lost it and screamed through every contraction until she was out.  Good thing the pushing went a ton faster this time than with my other two.  I could NOT have done that for 2-3 hours, it only lasted 18 min. and it felt like forever.  It was strange, I would totally react without thinking and just scream and say things that I don't even remember.  Your body goes into survival mode and does what it's supposed to do to get that baby out.  I even remember thinking, between contractions, "Jodee, you need to stop freaking out, you can't hear the Dr. and it is not doing any good to scream like that."  Then a contraction would hit and I was right back at it, screaming bloody murder.  My mom lost it first, she was in tears before the baby even came out because her baby was losing her mind!  Now that I think about it, I am not sure If I could watch Madison act like that, I would demand she get some pain meds cause I couldn't stand to watch it.  Ronnie and I are still laughing about some of the things I said.  I guess I remained quite polite and was saying "please", "thank you", and "I am sorry" constantly.  I remember Mary telling me that it would feel good to push, like a relief.  Mary is a big fat liar, it hurt to push and I didn't want to.  I knew that is what I had to do in order for this to all be over with but it hurt and I didn't like it one bit.  However, I finally decided that she needed to come out and I was tired of having these contractions so I pushed just 2 or 3 agonizing times and she was out of there!  I was so thankful.  In fact, that is the only thing I do remember saying, "is she out?  Oh thank you, thank you so much!"  and that was just her head.  When I heard Dr. H tell me the worst was over, I could have reached down there and kissed him.  One last small push and she was laying on my chest looking straight up at me.  She didn't cry, which worried us all.  Daddy cut the cord and they took her over to the warmer, suctioned her out, rubbed her pink, and still, no cry.  She complained a time or two but never did she wail.  I really thought something was wrong.  The nurses kept checking her vitals but everything looked perfect.    She was just so quiet.  We actually never heard her cry until days later when we had brought her home.  And still, to this day, she is so peaceful and quiet- unless hungry.  I am not sure if it's the calm before the storm but we will take it.

After being reassured plenty of times that all was well with baby girl, I started noticing what was going on with me.  Dr. H was just chillin' down there like he was waiting for another baby to pop out.  I couldn't figure it out, why doesn't he start sewing me up?  Then, I realized that he was still holding onto the umbilical cord with his tongs and was waiting for that placenta to come out.  I immediately started to tear up realizing that I still had work to do, I had to get that thing out of me.  It isn't that hard to do, much easier than the baby, but I just had forgotten and really thought I was done.  Dr. H saw my face and reassured me that he could just pull it out with the contraction and I wouldn't have to do anything.  Isn't he the best?

So a few stitches later and getting the A-OK to eat whatever I wanted, I said goodbye to Dr. H and promptly had Ronnie order my french fries.  And to top it all off, Miss Mary redeemed herself.  Just before she left to go home, she showed up at my bedside, told me she was proud of me and handed me a Diet Coke.  l was a happy girl.

That evening my dad brought the kids to the hospital to meet their new sister.  This is always one of my favorite parts.  It is so fun to see the excitement on their faces when they finally see who has been hiding in my tummy for so long.  They each got to hold her before going home to bed with Nana and Papa.  After the kids left, Ronnie and I were left to figure out a name for our sweet little girl.  We had come to the hospital with a list of about 15 names.  We had 3 in the running for a long time but I just kept adding more and more as time went on fearing I was getting bored with the original 3.  That night we decided she would be called Emery.  A name that was not in the original 3 but one Ronnie and I both liked.  But, after it had been decided, it wasn't sitting well with me.  She just didn't seem like an Emery.  Grace kept coming back to me, a name that was part of the original 3 but one we had counted out because of it's popularity.  We had been there already with Madison, we didn't want another name like everyone else.  But, Grace was just too perfect for her.  She just seemed like a Grace and I couldn't shake it.  The next morning after Ronnie woke up, I broke it to him.  He said he kind of knew that would happen and was fine with changing it.  So, Grace Lucille it was.  Lucille is Ronnie's Grandma's name and we hope that our little Grace Lucille is as thoughtful, loving, energetic, and strong as Grandma Lucille.  I am so happy that we settled with Grace and it is still the perfect name for her.  Ronnie and I joke that when she acts up we will call her Delaney which was another name we liked but shied away from after we found out it meant "child of dark defiance".  

So after less than 24 hours in the hospital, we were on our way home as a family of 5.  My mom and dad were at home taking care of the kids, cleaning, and cooking me yummy meals that are now stocked up in my freezer.  Having them here was a huge blessing as I was able to concentrate on taking care of myself and Grace knowing that my other two were in good hands.  I have been healing well and both Grace and I have no signs of Diabetes!  I am so pleased!  Friends came to visit us and brought cookies, candy, and hosts of things I haven't eaten in months.  I don't think I have come down from my sugar high and have no plans on loosing any baby weight anytime soon.  

Now that 2+ weeks have passed I can still say that Grace is the sweetest thing I have ever met.  She likes to eat, sleep, and make funny faces in her sleep.  The kids adore her and are just as sweet and gentle to her as she is to them.  They each hold her a few times a day and are pleased to introduce her to their friends whenever possible.  I am making it through the day on little sleep but with the help of my sweet husband who allows me to sleep in, countless friends who bring us meals, and a diet coke to keep me awake-- we are doing just fine.  Thank you!
Grace has already grown so fast.  She is out of her newborn diapers and ready for size small!  We are venturing into the world of cloth diapers and I am not so sure about it yet.  I was the lucky recipient of a 6 month supply of cloth diapers and covers so I figure if it doesn't work out, we haven't lost any money and we will just go back to filling up landfills one diaper at a time.  She is starting to be awake a little more each day and that has been fun.  She has big blue eyes, chubby cheeks and lots of brown hair.  I was hoping one would end up looking like me and I think she may be the one.  There is a picture of me that used to sit on my parents dresser that was  taken at the hospital when I was born.  I am asleep with my chubby cheeks and hands clenched up in fists near my face.  There are several times when I look at Grace and see that same baby I remember from that picture.  But if you look at her and haven't seen pictures of me as a baby, you would think she looks like Ronnie.  Everyone does.  That's okay, I think he's pretty cute too!  We affectionately call her Frodo because she still has a lot of peach fuzz all over her cute little body.  She is pretty perfect and we are getting quite used to having her in our family.
As for life with three kids, lets just say it will take some getting used to.  So far I haven't ventured too far out of the house with all three by myself and the few times I have, it hasn't been fun!  But, luckily Madison is a huge help, Grace is starting to go a little longer between feedings, and Beckham, well, Beckham will just be Beckham.