Boo, Baby Norah!

On Tuesday, April 15, 2014, our third little miracle, Baby Boo, joined the world.

Here's her birth story. If birth stories make you squeamish, read no further, though I'll keep it as graphic-free as possible.

Norah Rachelle joined our family on Tuesday, April 15, 2014 at 2:42pm. She weighed 9 pounds and was 21 inches talk upon arrival. 

At my midwife appointment on Monday, I was 40 weeks, 3 days gestation. I had not slept in over a week due to nightly contractions and other discomforts. So, when I was checked and nearly 4cm, a sweep was done to try to jump start labor. I was measuring well and she was moving well, but everything was favorable for induction. So, if I was not already admitted into the hospital overnight, at 7am on Tuesday, I was to check-in for induction.

Well, despite some contraction increase overnight, the sweep didn't really jump start anything, so after yet another night of about 3 hours sleep, Jake and I headed to the hospital. I felt pretty calm about the entire idea, with an odd combination of relief knowing she would soon be here, and anxiety over the fact that for the third time in four years, much sooner than we had planned, I was about to be going through the childbirth process again. When I was being induced with the boys, I didn't have the anxiety as much, and after much personal reflection, I decided it was likely because they were very much planned, whereas this pregnancy was a mind-blowing surprise. I just wasn't really prepared yet.

Paradoxes aside, here we were, getting ready for the arrival of child number three.

Our nurse was a friendly face we both recognized, though we couldn't initially pinpoint why. Later on, after Norah arrived, she said she checked and saw that she was one of the nurses during Collin's labor! So cool.

Initially, upon being hooked up to the monitors and checked, I was having somewhat sporadic contractions (still) and by this point was 4.5cm. So, the iv was placed and pitocin started. 

I walked 1/4 mile. Sat around. Walked another 1/4 mile. Attempted to nap. Walked 1/4 mile. Text some friends. 

Came back and was monitored a whole. Checked and was at 7cm. Woohoo! At this point the contractions were every 2-3 minutes and really starting to hurt. My hips were taking the brunt of it, it seemed, and when walking with then it felt like they were going to possibly crack in half. Fun times. So, I decided walking was done. Jake and I relaxed and had some lunch, and at noon-thirty-ish, my midwife came by to check on me and break my water. 

It didn't take long for the contractions to really pick up in intensity and frequency despite the pitocin being decreased by half. And good golly, that was wretched. I had come into the hospital with an "open" birth plan, meaning I was just going to see how things went with no real plan at all. It was pretty much the same plan I had with the boys, and it just works very well for me. This time, I decided that I was going to probably go without an epidural, because with Spencer, it wore off way top early and I felt pretty much everything by birth time anyway, and with Collin, I waited too long for it to actually kick in and I delivered before it was really useful.

So, as the contractions worsened and I thought my hips might shatter and my back might snap, I moved to the tub. My nurse said it would likely help with the hip and back pain as well as the increase of pressure with each contraction. 

I think she was probably right. At least at first, she was. I sat in the tub for I don't know how long. After a while though, I thought I was going to be super sick, and so i got out and went back to the bed. 

I could hardly concentrate on breathing at this point, but was at 8.5cm, so I knew  it was getting close to the end. The pressure and pain was so intense I thought I was going to lose my mind and I could hardly think straight, so the nurse offered me a dose of Fetinol at 2:15pm.  I think that's what it is called anyway... as she said it might help with my hips and back. 

Well... It made me feel like I was drunk and dizzy and not much else. Things hurt just as bad, so I changed positions on the bed, and it just continued to intensify.  I was to the point of tears and fear that I wouldn't be able to finish going through with it all, not that I realistically had a choice. It was at this time that my midwife told me I could push.

But... I couldn't. I honestly could not figure out how. I was on my knees upright and just could not process in my mind how to do it, even though she was coaching me through, so I panicked. I started crying and stating I couldn't figure out how and was shaking and nearly hyperventilating.

Jake was across the room in shock, I think, that it was so close to happening, and I cried terrified for him to come to my side.

So, I resorted to the way I had the boys, "normal" fashion, on the bed. But it was still so intense that it took me a contraction or maybe two to figure out how to get my body to do what it needed to.

Then, I pushed through two contractions. Everyone in the room told me it was a short process, realistically, probably about 5 minutes. But it felt like the most painfully agonizing period of my life and I was unsure it would ever end. I cried out that I didn't know if I could do it. I begged for help. But at the end of the two contractions, she was already born.

My first words to Jake were "is she really a girl?!" I guess, deep down, I really did have worries they were wrong and we would have a baby boy and no infant boy things. I think my heart skipped a beat when Jake paused a second before saying "yes," with a giant grin. Turns out he was in shock it happened as quickly as it did and he was not mentally prepared for her to be here already, and she came out facing downward so he hadn't even seen yet. Haha.

I also asked nearly immediately after, if I could take a good nap on Subday, and a Reese's blizzard. Jake promised I could, and I'm pretty sure the whole room laughed at me. 

They placed her on my chest, and I proclaimed to the room how "wretched" and "horrific" and "absolutely horrible" that was to go through with basically no pain medication. Jake told me over and over how great and amazing and wonderful I did, and how awesome it was that it was so fast. I just couldn't believe how much it hurt, and how I actually did it. 

I held her to my chest for a while. I don't know exactly how long, as she cried a minute, and then just looked at me. Jake and I both just gazed at her, still somewhat in disbelief that we had a daughter. We greeted her, kissed her, told her she was beautiful. I told her that some day, she would understand how much I went through to bring her into our family and just how hard that process is. We laughed. 

Eventually, they took her to clean her to and weigh and measure her. She nursed a while. Daddy held her the first time and grinned with tear-brimmed eyes as she cried at him. And we fell in love.

So far, she's been a fairly happy little girl. She's a good eater and sleeps through most of the noises the boys have made while visiting. Her brothers seem to like her well enough. Spencer is excited to talk about her and point her out to people. He calls her "baby Norah" and "baby sister." Collin, with daddy's help, held her. Spencer, as expected, refused.

I'm excited for she and I to join all of our boys at home tomorrow.

Norah Rachelle is a name that carried a lot of significance. Nora is a name on my mom's side of the family, through her mother, who was one of my best friends, that has been used somewhat frequently in multiple generations as a middle name. We added an H to the end as a way to honor one of my very best friends and beloved cousin, Tarah, who has an H. Rachelle, pronounced a bit like Ray-She'll, is a name we chose to combine the names of the two women friends that have been like sisters to me for the longest periods of time in my life, Michelle and Desirae. I do not know if either will ever have a daughter, but I love being able to honor our friendships this way.

Thank you to everyone for all of the well-wishes, thoughts, visits, and prayers!  We are open to visitors at home as well!

Our second miracle has finally arrived.

When Baby Bo's due date was decided to be August 19, 2012, I can honestly say I never gave credence to the idea of being pregnant the entire month of August. We "evicted" Spencer the day before his due date, and I just assumed Bo would come around that time as well.

I was wrong.

August 19 came and passed. As it did, we made an appointment with a nurse midwife, who later that week, said she would be willing to wait up to two more weeks, possibly even up until September 9 to induce. I felt pretty frustrated and discouraged. I was only dilated 1 cm and barely thinned out. Realistically, I knew that the end of the pregnancy was coming soon, but with all of the pain sitting, walking, standing, sleeping, doing stairs... basically ANYTHING that I had been enduring the previous couple of weeks, and nearly a month's worth of seemingly pointless contractions, it felt like we would never meet this baby!

I decided to continue on trying "home remedies" to prepare the body for and/or induce labor... evening primrose oil capsules, spicy food, walking, stairs, pressure points, baths, etc. Heck, I even let Jake bounce me around on a teeter totter, and I did 120 jumping jacks one night!

On August 31, we had a third appointment with the midwife. They wanted to do an AFI ultrasound (amniotic fluid index) and a non-stress test before the long holiday weekend. The appointment was set for ten in the morning, but they didn't call us back until 10:57. I was annoyed. The ultrasound took about four minutes, and the doctor came in saying everything looked fine, and making some stupid jokes about how I wanted to hold out until labor day. Ugh.

They sent us upstairs to my midwife, and Jake left to run a few quick errands while I did the NST. Everything seemed to be going well by my analysis, and it was obvious that I was having a few "light" contractions from time to time. The NST took quite a while. The midwife was waiting on the report from the doctor from the AFI and he was not getting it to her. She came to check on me a few times, once saying something like, "since you are do far overdue (almost two weeks past the 19th), we want to be very careful in things, or just get the baby out..." as she walked out the door. Confused and a little alarmed by the wording, I sent Jake a message telling him her words and how I wasn't sure what they meant exactly. A while later, the nurse finally came in and said the ultrasound showed baby was healthy, buty fluid was lower than they liked, and that meant they were going to induce me. She then said the midwife was going to call the hospital and schedule it, but they didn't know when precisely yet.

Oh, I forgot to mention that earlier that week, at our second appointment, they scheduled an induction for 6am on Wednesday, September 5, and I was then 2.5cm and starting to thin (yay for the teeter totter! Haha).

She then left and I text Jake, who showed up minutes later. He seemed a bit anxious, whereas I was just confused and tired of being in the NST room.

Finally, we were told that at 3pm that afternoon, we should arrive at the hospital for check-in, and that a different nurse-midwife would be delivering the baby.

We left in a state of shock. I didn't expect to be induced that day at all. After always waiting... and waiting... and waiting... I was certain that I would be pregnant until the following Wednesday. I had hoped to have the baby way before so that my sister, who spent the summer living with us, could be one of the first to meet him/her, and she also was planning to watch Spencer the first night we were in the hospital. Fortunately, she wasn't moving home until the next day.

We told our parents and siblings, packed our bags, and ate lunch, then the hospital called asking us to come in an hour earlier to get things started. So, off we went.

As luck would have it, though, they promptly checked me in, hade get ony gown, hookede up to the monitors again, and then... I waited for three hours while they figured out what was going on. It seemed to take forever. I laid/sat on the bed for almost two hours staring at this creepy freaking pigeon across from my window who sat there, statuesquely staring in my window, not moving. He actually recruited a friend to help creep me out, and they were both there until dark. I was relieved when my friend Sam showed up to keep me company and we walked a mile.

Finally, at 5:20pm, I met the nurse-midwife who would deliver the baby, Teri (who I loved!), and got the pitocin started. I felt like things were finally, officially, underway.

They were slow moving for a while yet, though. Jesse, make's twin, Sam's boyfriend, came, and then they brought us supper. Creepy birds kept staring. Jillian ce to visit. Jake tan home to put Spencer to bed and get his guitar around 10.

I sent him a text around 10:30 or so saying things were starting to get more painful. He got back to the hospital around 11. By this pint, my times are more approximate, but pretty accurate yet.  I was in some deal of pain now, but getting through it on my own. Within the next half hour, my water started leaking and the pain intensified greatly. I was checked and at 7cm. I told them I was thinking about pain relief but unsure yet.

Then, it felt like my hips were going to shatter. I wasn't having back labor like I did with Spencer, bit it was in my hips and lower abdomen. After talking with Jake, initially I decided that the next some sometime came to check on me, I would request an epidural. My plan had been that I would try to do without, but also that I didn't want to torture myself. Plus, it was late, and I was already exhausted.

The contractions then were steady and painful to the point I had tears. I "agreed" to let Jake get the nurse early and ask for the epidural. This was probably my saving grace and I am thankful he suggested that he would do that for me.

The epidural was administered at 12:25am. It wasn't a fun process. The contractions were every minute lasting minute and a half and having to sit up and hold still as the stuck things in my spine... yeah.  After all was done, the anaesthiologist said it would take around twenty minutes to reach full effect but each contraction would gradually be more bearable.

And... it was, for a little while. But then, around 1am, the pain returned... for transferred, to my back area. Each contraction brought on more pain and pressure. I felt like my insides were going to explode. I had incredible shakes and tears that I could not, for the life of me, fight back. I have never trembled so ferociously in my life. It really scared me, and I told Jake that.

He went and found a nurse who came in and checked me out. Said I was almost ready and that the shakes were a normal side effect. Wretched. As she left, I swore I could probably just have the baby then and there and kept telling Jake that it just needed to be over with NOW.

I felt like pushing, but held back because I was told I wasn't ready, and also, there were no doctors in the room.

Finally, at about 1:45 I was told I was ready to push. So, they helped me roll over and got everything ready, and the next 21 minutes were nothing short of the most painfully, horrific, torture-filled minutes of my life, pretty sure. I believe I told everyone a few times how it "hurt so much" and that I wasn't sure I could do it. Teri told me I could, of course, and was basically on the verge of being done. I had an excruciating leg cramp right before I delivered, and I screamed like I do not recall ever screaming before. I think it freaked Jake out a bit. And then...

Jake proudly announced "IT'S A BOY!"

Collin Liam was born at 2:11am, Saturday, September 1, 2012.

Teri handed him to me immediately and I snuggled him as they cleaned him off. He did not cry, not really. He made a little whimper that lasted maybe 5 seconds after delivery. He just stared at me peacefully. It was surreal, as Spencer screamed for around 40 minute when he entered the world. Truth be told, Collin did not cry for more than 8 collective minutes in the course of his first 24 hours after being born.

Teri, shortly after the birth, said something to the effect of "oh my gosh! I have NEVER seen this before!" It freaked me out, for sure, because she hadn't handed him to me so I couldn't see what was going on. She told us, "this little guy has some angels out there. He has a double knot in his cord."

Woah. Somehow, in utero, Collin had flipped around so much that he tied not one, but two knots in his umbilical cord, one right atop the other, and they were tight. She showed us. It was a bit terrifying, as she explained that could be fatal.she kept saying two knots is just crazy. Guess Collin really was a dancer, like his nickname, Bojangles.

After he was clean, I passed him off to Jake, who cuddled him a while longer. I just stared in awe, thinking how wonderful it is to have two sons. Two of Jake's boys. Two little buddies. I couldn't take my eyes off them as Teri stitched me up.

Collin weighed in at 8 pounds, 13 ounces, and measuring 20.5 inches tall.

Spencer calls Collin "baby." It's adorable. He looks for him in the basinette if he hasn't seen him in a while. He has tried to help feed him once, and he laughs hysterically if Collin has the hiccups.

We love having two little boys. It's going to be quite an adventure.

Dear Sprout,

Dear Sprout,

Today was the day that your father, your brother, and I were "due" to meet you, see your face, hold you in our arms. April 18, 2012 was the predicted date that you'd enter this world.

I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that it's been 32 weeks since your heart stopped beating. It's been 31 weeks since we found out you were gone. It sounds so recent, and somehow, it seems like forever ago. I sit here, tears falling softly down my face, as I remember how beautiful my life was with you in it, and how devastated I was when you left.

Somehow, though, I feel strong. I wonder how long that strength will last.

My goal for today, while I celebrate your Auntie Allie's 13th birthday, while also observing the life you barely began to live is simply to smile. I hope to fight back tears and carry on with the day. I want to embrace the joy you brought us, as I embrace your father and also your brother. We have gotten through the loss so far, and I know that we can continue onward.

While I am sad that your'e gone, I know you're in a better place. I know that you never suffered the cruelty that this world can bring upon a person. You lived, so briefly, in a serene, calm place, and then ever so quietly went to meet our Maker.

I know that He has held you in his arms, even though I was unable to hold you in my own.

I know that there's a purpose in all of this- in your short life inside of me and the eternal life you began living, what I deem to be "too soon," and while I often sit and wonder what it is, I have decided to let it go. Someday, I will know. Until then, I will just embrace the fact that you happened to me- to us, and that it was a perfect and beautiful gift.

In a way, I suppose I should thank you, too, for giving your father and I the chance to become parents once more- for giving Spencer the opportunity to be a big brother to your little brother or sister, who we currently call Bo. It breaks my heart that there is no way that the two of you could exist in this household, on this earth, living this life together, but again, I know that someday, we all will be reunited as a family. I know I will live my earthly life imagining, from time to time, the day that the reunion comes true.

Baby, sweet baby, I miss you. I love you. I thank you for giving us the opportunity to know you exist and to love you forever. I carry you with me always.

Someday, Sprout, I will hold you.

Love, Your Mommy

Almost Due.

It's almost April 18, 2012.

That wonderful Wednesday, my youngest sister will turn 13. Man, that makes me feel old!

That same Wednesday, last August and September, was slated to be our due date with Baby Sprout.

I can so clearly recall how "perfect" we thought that pregnancy worked out to be. I mean, really, being due on my sister's special birthday!? It was AWESOME. I for one, had prayed about it constantly since I calculated what that date would be, just asking God to allow it to happen. When I tested positive early morning on Sunday, August 7, I was shocked with disbelief, but through the roof with excitement. We told my sisters about the baby that morning already, we were so overjoyed!

And, as life would turn out, we lost Baby Sprout in the middle of September. Grieving and healing from the loss of the baby was a huge process to me. It was overwhelming for days before I finally could make it hours without crying. And over the weeks, and months as my body healed from my D&C, my mind started to heal as well, with the prospect of trying again for that second birth.

A sidenote: Sometimes, I get confused as to what to call Baby Bo. Is Bo my third child? Or is Bo my second child? I opt to say second child because it's less confusing for everyone else. Second child, third pregnancy, perhaps?

Anyway... On December 12, 2011, I tested positive again, and was cautiously optimistic and excited with the "perfection" of this pregnancy as well. As I had calculated that due to be August 26, 2012, which was just days after Jake's twin and his girlfriend, one of my best friends, were to be home for a wedding from Alaska. It seemed another pregnancy too "perfect" to be true, and for weeks I was scared of the same fate. Jake and I relish every movement (even if they wake me, or if Bo seems to be trampolining off my bladder during a 2.5 hour car ride) that we feel, knowing that Bo is alive and growing and gearing up to meet his/her family.

Now, I'm 21 weeks along, with an adjusted due date of August 19, 2012. We, again, are beyond overjoyed at the idea of bringing a sibling into this world for our wonderful son.

When I got my memorial tattoo for Sprout in November, it really helped me to find peace in the situation. Never once was I really mad at God (as I shared in a group not long ago at Operation Prom Dress), but I was frustrated, sad, and disappointed that it all happened. But then, it was like a release. Letting go of the sorrow as much as I could, I guess, and moving on to what lies ahead.

And I don't think I've cried over the loss since.

Until last night. Out of nowhere, it seems. I guess I was thinking about what the date would be next Sunday, when Jake and I have plans, and how my sister's birthday is only a few days after. And then I realized.. that was our due date. If that pregnancy had gone well, I would be due any day now. Or maybe, just maybe, we'd have already met Sprout. Maybe we'd know if Sprout was a boy or a girl. Maybe... And I got to wondering if Sprout was our son, or our daughter. I feel like the baby was a boy, though of course, there was no way for us to know.

I started sobbing. I told Jake that in over a week and a half, Sprout would have been due to be born. It was so overwhelming.

But, of course, I realize I am already over halfway through this pregnancy with Baby Bo. God gave us this gift, too. And this time, God willing, we've been able to progress smoothly, and God willing, will be able to meet our son or daughter in 19 or so weeks.

While it doesn't take away the loss, it helps to cope, some, I guess. But I'm torn. It's hard to be sad about the child we lost while we are getting ready for another child, now. But, Bo will never replace Sprout. Bo is just the given we were given after Sprout left us. And it's okay to be sad, I think. It's okay.

I'm not going to let it bog me down. I'm not going to dwell on it and take away from my sister's birthday. I decided if I wrote out how I feel, maybe, once again, like it did right after the loss, it will help me cope and move on. So, here's to that prayer.

In honor of my babies.

Many suggested after my miscarriage of Sprout, that perhaps I should buy, find, or do some sort of "memorial" to help with the healing process, and also to hold onto our baby's memory.

I contemplated this for quite some time.

I researched different ideas, and the one I seemed to bond with most was a necklace. I liked the idea of planting a tree, but we rent our place, so it just didn't seem... fitting, to plant a tree here. I didn't want to plant a tree at anyone else's place, though I contemplated that too.

The more I thought about the necklace, though, I just wasn't... sold on the idea. I love necklaces, don't get me wrong, but with Spencer around, and working as a childcare provider, the thought of wearing a necklace all the time that would just get yanked on and choke me wasn't as appealing as I had originally thought.

That's when I decided what I'd do.

However, when I decided what I was going to do for Sprout, part of me felt a little... ashamed, to be blunt, that I wasn't doing something to memorialize Spencer. I mean, sure, I HAVE Spencer with me, and I can see him, hold him, hear him, watch him, smell him... but, it just didn't feel right to not celebrate him in a way that I would Sprout, despite Sprout never being a "full" part of our daily life, I guess.

So, I decided I was going to do something in honor of both of my babies.

Here's what I did in Spencer's honor:

And here's what I did in memory of Sprout:

Yes, that's right. I got tattoos. I decided that it would be perfect to get a tattoo of Spencer's birth footprints (scaled down) on my abdomen, in the place I remember feeling him kick the most often. I had them scaled to about 1 inch.

For Sprout, I drew "generic" footprints, and had them placed near my heart. I had originally wanted to do just an outline of the footprints, because I never "felt" them, so they were kind of "empty" if you will, but the size I had them done (smaller than Spencer's) the artist said that the toes would be filled in, and the smallest, detailed/curvy parts of the prints would look filled in, and the rest wouldn't, and that might look strange, so he filled them all in. I decided on that location, however, because even though I haven't yet met Sprout, he/she definitely left a print, a mark, a lasting encounter, on my heart.

Truthfully, I am pleased with the result. The location of Sprout's is a little higher than I had hoped it would be, but I will deal with it. If it were a necklace I was wearing, it would be noticeable. The tattoo will be visible if I wear lower-cut shirt lines. So, if I "need" my tattoo covered, that's not a real problem. I was afraid it would look "trampish" at first, but, hey, it's baby feet. And, as I said, if it were a piece of jewelry with baby feet on, people wouldn't judge. And, I'm proud that I tried, that I was pregnant, even if I lost the baby.

I know, I know, you can reference the Bible and tell me "tattoos are bad because you're defacing your body." I wish I found myself believing that 100%, but I just don't. In the same reference in the Bible, it tells not to trim your beards, (Leviticus 19:27-28) too. So.... yeah. I won't go into that debate, sorry.

A very deep, heartfelt thanks, to my sister-friend Samantha M., for helping me to attain these memorials this past Wednesday. <3

In totally unrelated news, I am having quite a long night! We are getting new neighbors upstairs, apparently. They're moving in tonight, after Spencer went to bed, naturally, and are very loud, and keep waking him up. Blah.

My friend Ryan fixed our computer! Wahoo! And, in light of that fact, I dumped all the photos I had taken over the last few days onto the computer, which effectively erased them from the memory card, and then I sorted them and such, and somehow in the process completely erased all of Spencer's first Halloween photos. NOOOOOOOOOO! I about broke down sobbing. Though, Melissa, Dez, and Ryan all suggested a recovery program, so I've been working through various free trials to see what I can recover off the memory card and put back on my computer. I know to some it wouldn't be a big deal, but to me, it is. But, it's going to be a long night of clicking through thousands of "possible recovery" files. Hence, my blog post, a much needed break from the stress of that situation.

A year ago today.

At 7:34 pm this evening, Spencer turned one year old.

Today has been emotional, though 99% of the emotions were very positive in nature. I just still cannot wrap my mind around the fact that Spencer is one. Though, if I spend too much time trying to, he will be 2 before I know it.

I have yet to write his birthday letter, so I am going to keep this brief. My cousin, Heather, gave me the idea to write him a letter every year on his birthday, and give them to him when he is an adult. I love the idea, so tonight, that is my task.

However, feel free to read about the day our miracle enters our arms the first time...

http://goghgreen.blogspot.com/2010/11/we-can-hold-our-miracle-in-our-hands.html

And, shortly, I will be posting an entry on his blog (link is to the right) so you can read about his day today.

Here's to our beautiful baby boy, and hoping he has many more amazing years on earth.

A Miraculous Anniversary.

Exactly one year go this evening, Jake and I discovered that God had blessed us with a miracle. This was a miracle we prayed about for years, one we struggled with infertility in order to be rewarded with, for years.

This miracle, was a pregnancy.

This photo was taken on February 22, 2010, at 8:25pm central time, with my old cell phone. I was, unknown until that evening, 3 weeks and 5 days pregnant.

That day, I went to work early to do breaks for our wing, feeling bloated and very crampy. Truthfully, I "knew" my period was coming, so I was kind of grumpy. As the day went on and the cramps progressed, I just wished for it to actually come and get on with the show, so we could start the next cycle and try for a baby. I swear, I went to the bathroom three times as often as I normally would, in anticipation.

I went shopping after work, still convinced it was coming, and bought myself a few boxes of "womanly supplies" that I knew I'd need, and some pregnancy tests, just because the 5 pack was on sale.

I came home and had supper and drank a ton of water, and was tired. I decided to take a pregnancy test just so I could know to put in a tampon and go to bed. (Sorry if that information bothered you.) I really was convinced that it would be negative, but I sat in the bathroom anyway, taking off my nailpolish as I waited.

When it came up reading "PREGNANT," I knew it was wrong, so I left the room and sat on the couch to watch TV a little bit. This was approximately 7:30pm, and HOUSE M.D. was on! Yeah! Haha.

Anyway, I went back, expecting that the "NOT" would have appeared by now. I really was expecting it to appear later. It didn't. I was in disbelief and left the room and sat on the bed.

And came back, and looked at it again. "PREGNANT."

I left. Went to the kitchen and looked at the calendar to do some math. I had an hCG trigger shot (after a round of Letrizol to induce ovulation) on Wednesday the 10th, and they said to wait two weeks to test because there could be trace amounts left if you tested early.

"PREGNANT," still.

So I looked up online to see how long the hCG trigger would stay in my system. I looked up the exact amount I was given. All the results said that it should have been gone from my system in 8-10 days.

Back to the calendar. It was the 22nd. That was 12 days.

Back to the bathroom.

"PREGNANT."

I snapped the photo, shaking heavily, totally in disbelief and shock still. I figured the photo would prove to me that I was just seeing things and the "NOT" was actually there.

But it wasn't.

I sent a text to Jake to have him double check my math. Something about "What's 14 days after the 10th?" He told me that it was the 24th, so I asked about ten days, and he said the 20th, which I obviously knew, I'm not stupid, right?

So, I sent the photo to him.

And to my friend Desi.

Desi responded first, with absolute joy and elatedness (she also strugged for years with infertility, and was pregnant with her son at the time, we're like sisters). "You're PREGNANT MAMA!" Was the response, I believe.

So I told her how I was unconvinced and my math, and she assured me that the math was right, the shot was most likely gone, and really, false positives were nearly unheard of nowadays. She congratualted me with pure and utmost excitedness over and over and over.

And then, Jake called. "REALLY?!" he asked.

"Really what?" I asked back.

And he giggled and laughed in exuberant happiness for a few minutes, before I hung up on him. Haha.

He called back a bit later, overwhelmed with joy.

We were going to be parents!

Yeah, I was still trying to convince myself otherwise, really. It was too good to be true. Especially since I hadn't any expectation or anticipation for that cycle, really. I figured it wasn't the time. He said to take another test in the morning and call the doctor, but we were "HAVING A BABY, NICOLE!"

Yup, he was right. She was right. The test was right.

February 22, 2010 will be a date that I believe I will remember until I no breathe on this earth. This little plastic stick, this test, that miracle... was the best thing I'd ever peed on. Haha. Truthfully though, it changed our lives forever, and forever, we'll be thankful.

November 1, 2010, around 8:00pm this photo was taken on that same cell phone. Spencer arrived at 7:34pm after approximately an hour of hard pushing. We met our miracle.

Guess that shows how much I really know about God's plan.

Time stood still.

It's been 78.5 days since Spencer was born. Over the past few days, for some reason, I have been reflecting back to that day, over and over, and over again. It's like my mind is in some sort of time warp.

My mind, apparently, was in a time warp that day, too. I suppose that is to be expected.

As I have been sitting here recalling the day that my son was born, it's like I am watching a movie. Everything still seems so vivid and clear. I almost hear the nurses voices, or Jake's as he "bounced" around the room with excitement and anxiousness. I remember the visitors and doctor visits, the pain, the excitement.

It feels, to me, that the world stop spinning that day. I don't recall if I felt that the day was moving really slowly while I was in labor, but looking back now, I feel that it went by super quickly. I wasn't have strong contractions until 10:00 or so that morning, and he was born at 7:34pm. I only pushed for about an hour. I know the act of pushing felt long, but it really didn't feel like I had been pushing, taking a break, and doing it again for an hour straight. Time was really strange that day. I had no concept of it.

I was realizing I only know how I feel, or what I experienced that day, really. I mean, Jake was with me, and I saw his emotions and experienced things of that nature, but I don't really know what was going through his head or what he was feeling, or what he saw, remembered, etc. What did he do when he would leave the room? What conversation did he have with his brother, or mother, or father, or step-mother, or our friends, when he wasn't near me? I just don't know. I wish he'd tell me. I asked, and he sort of laughed.

And then I wonder... what was my mom's day like? What did my dad do that day? My siblings? My friends? Jake's family? I remember his step-mother talking to me on the phone the Saturday before, asking if I wanted them to wait to come visit until after we were home, and I said they could come whenever. Her original plan was to wait until Tuesday or Wednesday, after Spencer was born, but she and Jake's dad were there waiting while Spencer was being born. Obviously, there must have been some excitement and anxiousness in their lives... but what did they experience? What happened in their lives that day? Jake's mom and twin also visited before Spencer was born. And our friends, Robert, Jillian, and Grayson, were waiting there as he was being born too, to meet him.

I know the world didn't stop turning, time continued on, and all sorts of things happened, maybe even some of great importance, on November 1, 2010. But, it's so crazy to me to not be able to recall any of them, to feel like I was plucked out of the world into this seemingly alternate reality, where the only thing going on was the labor and birth of our son. To me, there was nothing else.

But I wonder... what else was there?

We can hold our miracle in our hands.

This is the story of the day that Spencer Jacob joined the world, from his mommy's perspective. Perhaps Daddy will write one of his own sometime, you never know.

At our 39 week prenatal appointment, the doctor said she thought that we were measuring a little large, and asked us if we would be open to induction. The thought of a giant baby freaked me out, so of course, I said yes. She said they figured later in the following week, but would let me know.

Well, later that afternoon, I received a follow-up phonecall and was asked to choose either that Friday morning (the 29th) or Monday morning (November 1st). I told the nurse I'd call her back after speaking with my husband, who decided with me we would wait until Monday, so we had the weekend to prepare and rest a little before our lives changed so drastically.

The weekend went by super quickly, and after a night of little sleep, we drove to the hospital at 6:45am Monday morning. I was very calm, I think, partially due to the lack of sleep, I assume. Jake was all smiles as we registered and went into the room.

They broke my water just before 8:00am, and checked me. I was still only 2cm dilated, so we knew it would be quite a long morning. They let me wait until about 10:00am to see if the contractions would speed up and get more intense on their own before starting me on pitocin at about 10:45. The contractions prior to the IV were about every 4-5 minutes, but they were more "crampy" than painful, and that just wasn't going to cut it (but believe me, I wish I could have).

The pitocin kicked in slowly as they upped the dose incrementally every half hour from 1 unit to 7, at which time the contractions started becoming pretty intense. The nurses would ask me to rate them on a scale of 1-10, and it wasn't long before I went from "3" to "5 or 6" as I tried to breathe calmly and silently through them as they passed every 2 minutes. The nurses would look at me like I was kidding when I'd rate them, because I really wasn't making much for noise. I would sit there and breathe and I would bite the corner of my lip and try not to clench up as I stared off at the television screen in front of me. Jake's twin and his mother were there for this part, and they were very chatty with Jake, who could tell I was in some great deal of pain as I did not converse and instead just bit my lip. The nurse had estimated at this time, Spencer would be born between 10pm and 2am, most likely, if progress continued at the given pace.

They checked me again at about 2 or 3pm, I forget, and I was to 5 centimeters and almost 90% effaced (I think, this part is kind of blurry to me), and asked me if I wanted to switch positions from the bed to the ball or whirlpool. I got up and used the ball for a little bit, but I couldn't stay stable on it with my back hurting so badly, so after a short discussion in which I admitted the thought of having someone inject something into my spinal space really did freak me out quite a bit, I decided to get the epidural so I could at least relax and not have to be in intense pain all night long.

Getting the epidural was intimidating, but truthfully, getting the IV put in my hand earlier in the day was much worse. Perhaps that's because I was having back labor and contractions while the anaesthesiologist was doing his thing, who knows. It was successfully administered and I was instructed to lie on my side and not move, which wasn't completely possibly anyway because I was lacking most sensation in my abdomen, butt, and legs anyway. So, laid there, I did. This was pretty boring, for both Jake and I, because I couldn't even really get up to face him or move or anything. But, we both got a nap in!

That nap was a blessing in disguise, even though it wasn't totally quality as the automatic blood-pressure cuff went off every 30 minutes and woke me, as at 5:00pm or so when I woke up, Jake's father and step-mother were there, and I was comfortable enough to chat with them and such before my doctor came back to check me.

We were all in for a big shock when Dr. Schriever came in, checked me, and said, "guess how far along we are." I think I guessed 6, not sure. She said, "9 to 9.5." He was still up a little high though, so she suggested we labor down for a little longer while he tried to move, and also positioned me to try to get him to turn from his crooked-facing front position to facing downward. She said she was going to run home for supper quickly and be back for the delivery, which she figured wouldn't be nearly as late into the evening as we originally though, but possibly between 8 and 9, if he moved.

Then the surprise treat of my life came upon me... in which my epidural started wearing off, and I could feel everything. The contractions got very intense and I went from being able to be silent through them to clutching the bed, shaking, and crying, trying to breathe, and trying not to shake and cry. It wasn't working. They called another anaesthesiologist and asked him to come and up the epidural so I could be comfortable as we labored down, and he did, but it still only got worse. The contractions were almost constant, and I couldn't handle the pain any longer, so they said we could start pushing, and called the doctor to come back. This was about 6:30pm.

I was told that pushing could take a first time mother up to 3 or 4 hours, but they didn't think it would probably take me that long. I was completely effaced and dilated when they checked again, so they helped me roll to my back through the excrutiating contractions, and instructed me how to push.

Let me tell you, pushing is wretched. Especially when I could feel everything, except the progress I was making. They would have me push and I would "scream" (though not really a scream) and try to "curl up around him" inside of me like they instructed, but I tell you what, that's really hard! You have a long hard body inside your body and you're supposed to bend around it? Yeah right! But I tried, and told them it was hard, and it hurt, and trying to take a quick, deep breath between pushes was equally as hard and painful, but somehow I managed. I thank Jake for being there and being super calm and supportive and just telling me how good I was doing, and informing me that I was actually making him move down even if I couldn't tell necessarily.

The, however, they brought out the oxygen mask! No! That was wretched too. My mouth was so dry that licking my lips didn't help, and having ice chips in my mouth was making me gag and I'd spit them out on the floor anyway when a contraction would come. I kept trying to turn my head away from it, but Jake kept bringing it back to my face, which I know he needed to, but yeah. In between contractions I said "I wish I had chapstick!" Jake vanished, and thanks to my dear friend Jillian, I had chapstick and was more comfortable pushing.

When they could see the top of his head, Jake peeked, and I was told Spencer had a lot of dark hair! I was so excited! I had dark hair, as did Jake, and I hadn't been able to wrap my mind around the possibility that our baby could be born baldish. They asked if I wanted to see, and I quickly passed on the opportunity, but as we continued pushing, Jake watched intently, while somehow still being supportive and at my head, as his first-born son entered the world. He cut the chord, and I started sobbing immediately.

They took him away to the little station to clean him off, weigh him, and check his vitals, and as I looked over, I could think nothing else but, "He looks JUST like his daddy, he's even got his long skinny feet!" and "How did he fit inside of me!?" or "I can't believe I did this."

Unfortunately, I had a level 2 tear from the birth, so they had to stitch me back up as they checked him over, but finally brought him to me to hold. Jake was right there with a camera taking pictures as I tried to smile through my tears. Jake had huge tears in his eyes too as we gazed at this miniature being who was so mad at us for putting him through the trauma of making him be born.

He was taken back to the station where they monitored his oxygen, which was a little low at first, they figured becuase he still hadn't coughed up all the gunk in his lungs, and they finished stitching me up, though I lost a lot of blood and went into a slight shock I guess, as I began freezing and trembling uncontrollably. After they had the area cleaned up, they finally gave me a warming robe and some blankets. By then, Spencer was breathing better, and we were able to hold him again. I let Jake hold him, too, of course, because he hadn't gotten to, and I just watched as his eyes lit up and felt my heart melting and surging at the same time with such expounding love that I didn't know how I'd ever be able to handle it.

When all was cleaned up and ready, Jake's brother and his wife, Jake's dad and step-mom, and our dear friends, Robert, Jillian, and Spencer's new best friend, Grayson, all came in the room to meet him. It was absolutely wonderful.

I won't bore you with the rest of our hospital stay, but by the end of yesterday, Spencer met half of his aunts and uncles (roughly), and all of his grandparents, and was completely loved by each and every one of them. Jake and I, after everyone had left yesterday, just stood in the kitchen, embracing, in complete awe and wonder at the huge change that has occured this week, overjoyed with tears, and filled with more love than we ever thought possible.

After over 3 years of struggle and heartbreak, God finally let us meet the miracle that he blessed us with back in February. I have not felt this blessed since the day I married my husband.

I'm scared, excited, nervous, anxious, and anticipatory for each and every day to come.

Spencer Jacob, born Monday, November 1, 2010, at 7:34pm Central Standard Time. He weighed in at 8 pounds, 2 ounces, and is 20.25 inches tall.

He is perfection in our hearts.