Two Months.

Ok.  So, here we go.

Two months old... already?

Let’s start at the beginning.  During the late, late hours of July 17, 2013, I started to have some discomfort.  Around 3 am on the 18^th, I deduced this must be labor, and my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, and about a minute and a half long.  Not a lot of time for recovery.  I had taken a shower the previous day, but I still felt dirty.  We had run errands, and gone to a doctor’s appointment, I needed another shower.  When I got out of the shower, I sent your dad a text.  He’s a pretty smart guy.  He had rigged up a program that when I text “babybaby” that no matter the ringtone volume, or time of day, an alarm would go off.  So imagine his surprise when the alarm goes off, he rolls over in bed, and I am not there.  I was downstairs, on the floor writhing in pain.  We managed to get everything together in a relatively sane fashion (me, anyway, I’m sure he was losing his mind, after all, it was about 4 am at this point), and on the road we went.

You’re already quite the troublemaker.  No sooner do we pull on to the highway to get to the hospital, but we fly (and I mean fly) past a cop car.  So here I am, in a lot of pain.  We have dad and me in the front seat, your sister, and the dog in the backseat, and a 45-minute drive ahead of us.  Not really my idea of a good time.  The last thing we need is to be pulled over and make this an even longer excursion.  So we call 9-1-1.  Explain the situation as calmly as possible.  Neither one of us can complete this process alone, so we help each other out.  The operator asks questions, when Dad can’t respond fast enough, I jump in.  They tell us to turn on the hazards, and be safe.  Will do.  Car fades away in the distance.  Seems like they got the message.  Don’t try this at home, kid. 

Get to the hospital.  My biggest fear, with it being so far, is that, despite the fact that I am now 40 weeks, and 1 day pregnant, this isn’t real labor, and they are going to send me home.  After I get into the maternity triage, they do an exam, and tell me that I’m at a 7, I nervously ask if that means that I have to go home, and they chuckle, and tell me no, that I’m staying there for a while.  Get to my room.  I have no concept of time at this point, but it hasn’t been very long.  Grandpa and Nana Tracey aren’t there yet to take Quinn, so she was hanging out with us for a while, not really sure what was going on.  They came shortly thereafter.

I wanted an epidural, stat, but I had to wait at least an hour, make it through an entire bag of fluids, and wait for the anesthesiologist to show up.  It was agonizing.  I think it actually took a lot longer than an hour, because of traffic, and the fact that they poked me at least 9 times because they couldn’t find a good place for the IV, and so I couldn’t even start the fluids for a while.  The anesthesiologist finally (he probably wasn’t that late, it just felt like it) shows up, sends Dad out of the room, and gets to work.  Once that was in, we were good for a while.  Until the pushing started.  About the time they went to call the doctor to come by (it was about 9ish at this point) I started freaking out.  I was not ready for you at all, I was actually crying pretty hard, and a lot of them dismissed it as emotions, but I was petrified of having another child; being a mother of two.  I NEEDED more time.  You didn’t give it to me.  At 9:52 am, there you were.  They put you on my chest, and you were a wiggly, screaming little being.  I cut your cord, and there you were child number two.  Seven pounds, six ounces, 21 inches long.

Dad didn’t want to “watch” you being born, but he later told me that once you were out, the cord was wrapped around your neck and that when you made your big debut into the world, you were purple, and he wasn’t even sure you were alive.  I’m glad that I was so focused on not screaming anymore and the most painful part over that I didn’t notice him, or you in that brief moment.  It was probably no big deal, because you were never rushed away, and no one ever said anything about it, but if I had seen the panic on his face, or I had seen you like that, I probably would have lost it.  We ended up staying at the hospital for two full days, and being discharged on the third because you were a little jaundiced, and they wanted to make sure you were good to go when we left.

Our first night home was challenging.  I wasn’t allowed to do anything but lift you, and we were all exhausted.  There was a lot of screaming, and many tears from everyone but we survived that first night alone, and that’s all that matters.  The next week was full of challenges as I didn’t feel like I could feed you, and we had a whirl of doctors’ appointments and consultant appointments on how to fix the issues we were having.  It took a lot of work, but by week two, we were back on track, and good to go.

Grandma Lynn came to visit when you were two weeks old for almost a month.  She was a big help because between you and your sister, I was exhausted, constantly.  You two are a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure.

Not much has gone on in your first two months of life.  You were under your birth weight for a little while, then you shot up 2 pounds in a week, and you keep packing them on.  You have a good appetite, and in general, are a happy baby.  You do have a bit of reflux, which makes you not so happy at times, but we have medicine that we have to give you twice a day, and while it’s a big ordeal to give it to you, because it tastes horrible (yep, I taste tested it for you, but trust me, it could taste a lot worse) it makes you feel better in general, so I make you suffer through it.  You smile a lot, and gurgle a lot.  We love it.  Your sister constantly wants to play with you, and hold you, but she is a little too small at this point.  She is content sitting next to you, looking at you, rubbing your hair, and she will even help us burp you.  I hope you two will be this close later on in life.  The other day she was saying hi to you, you smiled at her, and she just beamed with happiness and pride.  I don’t know if you knew what she said, or knew who she was, but it made her entire day.

Nothing really bothers you, except dirty diapers.  The second your diaper is wet, we had better be on it, or you’re going to make us pay for it.  Most of the time, as soon as the diaper is off, and a fresh one is on, or on its way, you actually smile at us, as if to say “thanks!”  I love it.  You love to sit in the swing.  You generally don’t care if it actually swings or not, as long as the mobile goes around and around.  You sleep pretty well through the night.  You generally wake up twice a night, and I’m ok with that, I can usually get 6 hours of sleep a night.  I appreciate that.  A lot.  Oh, your hair.  Your hair is out of control!  No matter what we do, it sticks straight up.  It is always a hit though, I have yet to hear of anyone not liking it.  Hope that it doesn't last forever for you.

Thanks for joining our family kid.  As always, a rough start for everyone, but we worked through it.  Welcome to the madhouse.

Love,

Momma