We've survived!

I hate to be overly enthusiastic...

This early into the game...it could jinx us. But...two months down. We've made it this far. I remember the first two months being the hardest with Evie. Though of course it was a cake walk compared to the two months with Elly. From that point on, baby's immune system improves dramatically, baby starts being awake more during the day, sleeping better at night, holding her head up well and just generally becoming easier to take care of. Two more months and we'll be starting cereal and solids and baby will be more like a person than a high-maintenance time-suck.

So we went to Elly's two month check-up today. She laughed and smiled while we waited for the doctor to come check her. I undressed her per the nurse's instructions. We walked around the room looking at the art work and "talking."

She loved the art work. She stared at this one painting and wouldn't look at me...

No matter how many times I cooed and said her name.

She was in love. Completely and utterly in love. 

Nothing would draw her away from this picture. And being a little person barely experienced in this world she couldn't be getting more from the picture than just being awed by the colors. Though it's a neat picture of a construction site with lots of labeling and little interesting people.

She stared at it from the time I got her clothes back on her after the doctor left us until the nurse came to give her the injections. 

While we waited for the doctor I marveled at how much different she is from Evie. It's amazing how much difference there can be in two personalities. I can't wait to see how much different and alike they are when they're older and really have their "own" personality. When Evie was a baby she was either crying or she wasn't. There weren't a lot of "noises" in between. She did the "ah-goo" type stuff eventually but nothing like what Elly does. Elly talks all the time. Grunts and coos and makes little "ah" and "ooh" and "eww" noises. I've even heard some consonant type noises. Her smile is just adorable and the rare laughs I can get from her are just too precious. 

I also marveled at how much simpler going to the doctor was with just one baby. Especially when that baby wasn't sick.

The doctor said she had "perfect skin" and looked "great." Her weight is in the 94 percentile and her height is 66 percentile. She's growing great and is doing really well. I asked the doctor about Elly's tongue, which seems really short. My husband was born "tongue-tied" and it's something that I've worried about one of our children having. He had a procedure done at 18 months old to actually snip the membrane under his tongue slightly making it easier for him to talk. The doctor said that she does seem to be a little tongue-tied and its something else we will have to monitor. *sigh* So now we're monitoring a large hemangioma on Elly's forehead and a membrane under her tongue. The doctor said many children are able to stretch the membrane out on their own without any procedure.

Which is good. Because I don't like hospitals. And I don't ever want to need to take one of my babies back to one.

 I don't want to see this again...and I hope you understand why. This...is heartbreaking.

I want to see more of this...

And this...

 

I love sleeping babies. They warm the cockles of my heart. :-) As do baby feet. 

Like these. I could just kiss them. And I do. 

But back to our doctor's appointment. All in all the doctor deemed her to be in excellent health. Told me to keep up the good work and that she'd see me in a couple of months. Then we had to wait for the nurse to come with the shots. Which SUCKED. Poor little Elly. It's hard to grasp what a baby's impression of their first real physical pain is. I mean, shots HURT. Really hurt. And this is the first time a baby has experienced anything like that. Elly didn't just scream. She wailed. And yelled. And cried. And pulled my hair. I'm not sure but I think the last was intentional. If it wasn't she made it look pretty intentional. 

But she survived. And we dried off her face and put her little pants back on. She cried a little more. I gave her the paci back and put her in her car seat. About 30 seconds later she was asleep. 

Leaving the doctor's office I was still elated that we had all made it to this important milestone. Maybe we can survive this after all!

The wisdom of a weather radio

So, I've told my husband I want to buy a weather radio. In the last week, our quiet little county nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains has experienced two tornadoes. Count em, two. No joke.

I remember when we moved to North Carolina from Southwestern Virginia and I experienced my first tornado drill at school. I was in the seventh grade and I had seen the movie Twister (Remember that movie? With the flying cow? I loved the line "Another cow...No, I think that's the same cow."). I remember crouching in the hallways with our heads on our knees and our hands over our heads while the teachers walked by and inspected our "the world is ending" positions and thinking that it was ridiculous to put us out in the hallways because there were HUGE glass doors at the ends of all of the hallways. I asked my mom if we really were going to get tornadoes. I was suddenly afraid we had moved from the quiet mountains to tornado alley. When she told me that there had never been a lot of tornadoes, just a small one here and there, I felt much more relaxed. And she was right.

Since that day 13 years ago, I can count on one hand the number of confirmed tornadoes that we've had. Can probably count on both hands the number of times the county has been placed under a tornado warning (That's the elevated level. The one where the news tells you to seek cover that a tornado MAY be heading your way).

But now suddenly, we're having these devastating storms. I was shocked when I came to work last week and was informed that we'd had a tornado in the county overnight. That it had done a great deal of damage. And worse, that it hadn't been far from my house. The wind and rain had woke me up but it never crossed my mind to think it might be a tornado. Or even to check the weather for warnings. I just assumed it was a big thunderstorm and went back to bed.

While a little frightening, especially after driving through the area and seeing how much damage our F1 tornado had done, I wrote it off as one of those fluke things. Then two nights later, there is a second tornado warning. Several of my friends admitted to having actually hid out in the basement or middle of their homes fearing for their safety.

So now I'm worried. I slept through two tornadoes without having any knowledge that we were even under a tornado warning. I didn't want to be in bed asleep and have a tornado hit our home and one of my children get hurt. And that is my biggest fear. So the next step is, how can I be alerted to the fact that a tornado is coming?

I get weather alerts on my phone. And in theory those could wake me up. Assuming my stupid Weather Bug actually sends me the alert. But I also get Facebook updates, text messages, emails and various other alerts on my phone that cause my phone to make noise nearly 24 hours a day. In order to get my weather alerts, I'd have to leave my phone on all night meaning I would also hear every other noise. So I don't really like that idea.

The other option suggested to me is a weather radio. Apparently the National Weather Service sets off alerts for these radios to wake people when some sort of dangerous weather is predicted in their area. I like this idea. Working as a telecommunicator/dispatcher I'm pretty familiar with the idea of some government entity setting off a pager on my device so I'm aware of a situation. At work we do it hundreds of times a day for fire fighters, rescue squads and paramedics. Alert tones sound and a message follows. After investigating weather radios more, I find them to be a reasonable price and available from my #1 online retailer, Amazon.com.

So the next step is talking to the hubby. And I did. And his response?

"From experience if your house gets hit even by a F1 and you're in the middle like you're supposed to be you're not going to survive."

And this is what he tells me to talk me out of the weather radio. Saying that even if I hear the warning and get myself and the babies into the basement in time we aren't going to survive. Yeah, that makes me feel better. I gave him the most scathing look I could muster and told him that our impending doom didn't sway me from wanting to get a radio.

And yes, he lived in Oklahoma for several years. But he clearly survived and they had numerous tornadoes. So by golly I want a weather radio. And once we get one there will probably never be another tornado warning. But that's okay. The babies will be safe. And let me tell you, its all about the babies!

Challenges of "bonding" with a sick baby

Please don't judge me for this. But I'm going to admit something that a lot of people may think less of me for. I didn't start really "loving" Elly til sometime in the second month. Before you close the window and unfriend me on Facebook, give me a chance to explain.

From pregnancy, I loved Elly. I did. I'm her mom and I'm biologically programmed by surging hormones to protect, love and care for the baby I conceive and carry. It's something that no matter how good a dad a man may be he will never really understand. He just can't. This person walking around may share 50% of his DNA, but it isn't part of his body. Until the umbilical cord is cut, Mom and baby share a body. They share emotions, hormones, foods, sounds, smells...literally everything. Scientists have discovered that babies react to emotions beyond just an accelerated pulse or elevated blood pressure. They are calm when Mom is happy. They smile, frown, kick, draw up, yawn and more in response to their mom's emotions. Psychologists have discovered that an important part of development for a baby is learning that it and Mom are two different beings. That's why babies initially have separation anxiety: they don't understand that Mom isn't part of them. Discovering how separate they are lasts up into adolescence. It's the big battle of the teenage years -- asserting that you are NOT your parents. And moms feel every disappointment, every triumph, every major event in their child's life as if it were their own. We are just designed by Mother Nature. How else could those squirmy, helpless babies survive 10 minutes outside the womb? If someone wasn't there wanting to love them and cuddle them and provide for them?

I loved Elly. I loved her from the plus sign on the pee-stick. I loved her first kicks and I loved her first cries. I was elated to see that she had a head-full of dark hair (which is what I had dreamed Evie would look like...imagine my surprise to be holding a blond baby! Especially since myself and my husband are brunettes). Although I felt the expected post-partum euphoria (Woohoo hormones!) I didn't have the obsessive desire to do everything for Elly myself like I did with Evie. I didn't feel like I needed to hold her all the time. I didn't worry about her stopping breathing and lay awake watching her like I did Evie. It was a much different experience.

When we got home I began experiencing more of the protective, I-want-to-take-care-of-her-myself feelings. I felt closer to her and we all settled into a kind of groove as a family of four. Things were good and I was happy. I actually thought I was having an easier time with the postpartum hormones than I'd had with Evie. Then Elly got sick, and I went a couple of weeks without sleeping and days without seeing Evie...and...in all honesty, I was angry. Not AT Elly, because obviously it wasn't her fault. But at the same time I was angry WITH her, if you can get the difference in nuance. I was angry that my family felt like it had been torn apart by this little person who didn't really care anything about any of us. Babies aren't really born loving or caring. They're very selfish little things if you think about it. And this uncaring person just came in and wrecked our lives. She was in the hospital. Then when she came home she was still coughing and wheezing and I was worried about her. She was puking all the time on everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. It was the hardest month I've been through. And it wasn't just a few days. It was honestly 5 or 6 weeks.



I came back to work thinking simultaneously, "Hallelujah, no one will be puking on me" and "Holy Shit, how can I survive working and babies when I barely survived just babies?" The first day I left both girls at my mom's house I didn't cry a bit. I wasn't really sad or worried like I was with Evie. I was a little nervous for my mom...a whole day dealing with both kids is pretty overwhelming. But I didn't cry that I had left my baby. Only later in the day did it strike me as odd.

Really, only now that I feel super lovey-dovey towards Elly has it dawned on me that I didn't feel this way before. I don't think that this whole ordeal will have any lasting impact on Elly. She certainly won't remember and from the way she laughs and smiles at me, she hasn't had any issues bonding with ME. But dealing with a sick baby is hard. On a lot of levels.

On one level you love the baby but you're afraid you might be losing the baby and so you're afraid to do too much bonding. But at the same time you want to spend as much time as possible because you're afraid it's all you have. Very conflicting. Once you're out of that dark patch, you have this massive amount of work to do. You deprive yourself of sleep, meals, personal time, bathing, all to take care of this baby. And you don't have years or even months of a fulfilling, positive relationship that you've built to sort of borrow against. You've had days or weeks. You don't have fond memories to recall to remind you of what this is all for. You have vomit in your hair, a pile of laundry that smells like sour milk, your second pot of coffee and a headache because you can't remember the last time you ate but you know it wasn't even yesterday. It's just hard to grow a lot of warm fuzzies in that kind of environment.

I want to repeat that I have always loved Elly. I did. But there were times that I didn't feel very attached to her. I just didn't feel the same level of bond as I had with Evie. And there were times when I seriously questioned why I'd had a second child. But things are way way better. I absolutely love snuggling up to Elly on the nights she sleeps with me. I melt when she smiles and I cannot wait to hear her say Momma. I love her as much as I love Evie.

I don't envy people who have really sick babies. Babies who spend weeks in the NICU or months in the hospital. I just don't know how they survive. How they put themselves through it every day. I don't know if I was weak. Or if part of my issues were also my postpartum hormones...possibly even a variety of postpartum depression. I'm sure that certainly played a big part. I don't know if other parents have similar issues bonding with their sick babies. Honestly, I'm scared to ask. I don't want to know how much worse I was than they were.

I am happy to say that I'm infatuated with both of my girls these days. And I cannot imagine life without them both.

I am a total slacker...but a hard-working one!

I have got to get more on myself about blogging. I am so sorry.

In my defense, working full-time and mommying two babies full-time has been much more of a challenge than I anticipated. And it feels like work is my break. Yeah, hope my boss doesn't read that. But it is. Its the time when I get to check my email and play Angry Birds Rio (I am NEVER going to beat that stupid game) and have not a single sticky-handed person pull on my pants leg and yell "Momma Juice!" or "Momma milk!" or "Momma Momma Momma Momma!" except she's still only 20 months old so her English ain't quite that clear. But you get the idea.

I love being home with my babies. I wish we could financially handle me not working, or at least not working full-time. But we can't. I wish I had known in 2003 what I know now. I wish I could go back to young college-bound me and shake me REALLY hard. Or even 2007, graduating-moving-buying a house-getting married me. I packed way too much into that six month period and as a result I didn't really get to savor any of it. But if I had known how much debt all that would have accumulated and how much I would hate having that debt hanging over me now, I would have made some much different decisions. And then I might be at home right this minute putting one baby down for her nap and getting a bottle ready for the other. I might be spending this afternoon playing outside with Evie and enjoying this 70 degree weather rather than trapped in a cold, concrete building, staring at computer screens and wearing my sweatshirt with the heater going. Just THINKING about it makes me a little bummed and teary-eyed. But regrets really get you nowhere. So whereas I would LOVE to be at home, being driven crazy by my toddler, I'm not. I am fortunate enough to have a job that I absolutely love though. One that if I didn't have to work I would still work part-time at because I love it that much. So while I'm one of the indebted millions trying to fight out of credit card debt and mortgage debt and I don't want to even talk about student loans...I'm one of the lucky ones.

I have developed a couple of feasible scenarios which would allow me to stay home and work only part-time. But they would require being at least marginally less buried in bills than we currently are and paying off the people to whom we owe money takes time. Valuable time that I'm missing with my little people. Unless I win the lottery. Which I don't consider a feasible scenario. Especially considering I have never bought a lottery ticket.

 But until we're able for me to quit work or cut back to just part-time I will be a full-time working full-time mommying woman with a more than full plate and dramatically less time to blog than I wish I had. Sorry. I have things I'd love to blog about but I just never seem to have time.

Post-partum reading

I knew when I had babies that my life would change. I knew that I'd have to start watching what I said and how I acted. I knew there would be less time for hanging out and drinking with friends and more time at home with the aforementioned offspring. I even knew I'd be spending more time reading "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" and "Goodnight Moon" (though my toddler has shocked me by how MUCH time I spend reading those books...over and over and over). I didn't realize that my affinity for Dean Koontz and Stephen King would be dampened or that my love for horror movies would diminish. And that I would find myself not only NOT craving the blood, guts, gore and violence from my pre-baby reading but instead spending time reading inspirational stories.

So today I read "Heaven is for Real." If you haven't heard of it here's a link Heaven is for Real. I've seen it on the shelves at Walmart. Dunno if its cheaper there. Its a short read, so you might be better off picking it up at the library if you're a fast reader like me. I read it in less than four hours.

Some people would classify this as a "religious" book but I didn't really see it as such. I think I cried at least five times. Yes. Five. And yes, it talks about Jesus and Heaven and Christianity quite a bit. But I didn't really feel like it was a religious book. As my mom said "There's a difference between being religious and being spiritual." And that's true. But it wasn't the Jesus parts that really touched me. It was the parenting parts. Of course, parenting has a lot to do with God I think.

I am so often overwhelmed by how unworthy I am of being a parent. Not because I occasionally raise my voice or lose my temper. But because children are such wonderful, amazing little blessings. Even all poop-filled and vomit-covered and screaming at 4 a.m. Of course those are the times when it is the hardest to remember how much of a blessing they are. And those are the times that I pray the hardest to please please please help me be a good mom. Give me the strength to be as good of mom as my babies deserve. Even at just 19 months, Evie, who is well into her terrible twos, can do some of the most selfless and endearing things. She wants to give her Sissy kisses every morning and one day when I was upset and crying Evie pulled me down into the floor to hug me and pat my back and give me kisses.

I've said since Evie was born that I didn't see how anyone with kids could NOT believe in God. Or some sort of higher power. Babies are the most miraculous things in the world. Watching them grow up and learn to walk and talk and love is just amazing. Proof that God is here.

And now that I've experienced a couple of years worth of baby raising, I just find that I don't get as into the violence and horror as I did before. Now it makes me worry. So instead of reading scary books, I find myself reading books about little boys who go to Heaven and gain a tremendous amount of religious insight at the ripe old age of four.

I know it sounds hokey but not only did this book make me cry, it gave me chills. Its funny the ways you change when you go from just "me" to "Mom." I never would have imagined I could tell you all the lines of "But Not the Hippopotamus." But I can. And I absolutely LOVED this book.

Back from..."vacation"...Part 2

Elly was an 8 lb 1 oz cherub with a full head of hair. She ate great. Slept great. Wonderful baby. That is while we were in the hospital. We got home and she didn't want to do anything but sleep. Which would be great except newborn babies HAVE to eat. Especially when they are jaundiced. Which she was. We ended up going back to the doctor and the hospital four times to have her jaundice rechecked. We were having to wake her up every three hours, night and day, to eat. And if she spat up we were supposed to feed her again.

The jaundice finally started to clear up but for some reason she was still sleeping through meals and wasn't gaining weight. At about a week old she started to have a bit of a cough and sneeze. Newborns can have that for no reason so I didn't think much of it. At about 10 days old the cough was worse but still no fever. At 11 days I called the doctor's office and was instructed to run humidifiers, use saline drops and clear her nose out and to elevate her when she was sleeping to help with that. I was already doing all that. The next morning was a Saturday and the cough had gotten so bad that Elly couldn't keep food down and her breathing seemed labored. The doctor's office told me to take her to the emergency room and have them check her out.

The hospital did a chest X-Ray, drew blood, and tested for the flu and RSV. Elly tested positive for RSV and was admitted. I was incredibly disappointed with the care she received but that's a rant for another blog. The pediatric doctors there will never be treating any of my children again. Let me assure you!

Elly spent four days in the hospital. Three of those were spent on oxygen. When they first put her on oxygen I honestly thought my baby was going to die. I was so terrified. I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Was afraid to put her down or take my eyes off of her. I took dozens of pictures afraid that I wouldn't have the opportunity much longer. I'm sure it sounds crazy. But my 12 day old infant was in the hospital on oxygen and monitors and couldn't breathe. And no one would tell me whether or not she was going to die. It was horrible.

To make it worse poor little Evie didn't understand why she had been shipped off to live with her grandparents. I didn't get to see her for days. And by the fourth day she was so stressed out that she wouldn't eat or talk or play. Just sat in the floor sucking on her paci (which she doesn't normally have except naps and at night) and watching television. I have never been so torn. Wanting to go home to be with my toddler and stay at the hospital with my infant. It was horrible. Finally we were cleared to leave. Elly was doing okay on room air and we were discharged.

Elly had been spitting up all day and Evie had been throwing up the day before. But we thought it was just stress for Evie and spitting up wasn't surprising for Elly since she still had an awful cough. I got home and barely pulled in the driveway before I was throwing open the door to puke in the yard. Got inside and spent several hours in the bathroom. The worst stomach bug of my life. Thank God Josh was home because I was incapable of doing anything but sleep and be sick for the next 12 hours. I lost five pounds overnight. Elly was still throwing up. My mom, who had been keeping Evie, also spent that night sick as a dog. It was horrible. I wasn't able to eat much for the next couple of days. And Elly, while not throwing up everything she ate, was still sleeping way too much. And from the RSV and the stomach bug still hadn't gained back her birth weight.

I was terrified about Elly's two-week check up a few days after we were released from the hospital. I knew that babies were supposed to be back up to birth weight and then some by two weeks. I was afraid I wasn't doing enough (though I felt like waking Elly up every three hours to eat and making her eat as much as I could was about all I could do). I was afraid they were going to question my parenting and tell me I wasn't doing it right.

Although not up to birth weight Elly was very close. The pediatrician didn't say I was doing a poor job. Quite the contrary, she applauded the fact that Elly had gained weight despite her illnesses. She thought she looked great and was growing well. Told me to keep up the good work and that they'd see me back in about 2 weeks for her one-month check. I beamed.

In addition to a good report on Elly, Evie did wonderfully at her check-up. Handled the one shot fairly well. And we all went home happy and without picking up anything from the waiting room. Always an accomplishment with two little ones during flu season.

Two weeks later Elly weighed nearly 10 lbs. She was still not sleeping at night well and still spitting up a lot more than the "normal" amount. (In case you didn't know, all babies spit up. Its just part of having a baby. If you don't have kids but plan to, prepare yourself now. Its disgusting. It smells bad. I mean, its vomit. And it creates an outrageous amount of laundry in the best of circumstances.) Elly was diagnosed as "colicky." UGH. The nightly fussing, the squirming, etc. It was probably colic. And since we had already tried several different milk-based formulas, including the "sensitive" ones, without any change we were told to try soy. Hopefully it would help with both the spitting up and the colic.

It has. Though Elly is still not a good sleeper. I've discovered she really really hates to be alone. She wants to be held or at least near me at all times. She is the complete opposite of her older sister in so many ways. She's very affectionate and loving. Laid back. One could use the adjective "lazy" in fact. I've found ways to cope with her serious snuggle obsession. Sleeping on the couch for part of the night with her snoozing on my chest is pretty common. She'll probably never be one of those "cry it out" babies. We've all kind of gotten used to life with two babies. The juggling is easier. I can do bath nights all by myself without feeling like I'm completely overwhelmed. Though of course, tonight is my first night doing bath night after a day at work. So my opinion may changed. haha. I know the older they get the easier taking care of them both will get and I just look forward to a few months from now when Elly can at least sit up and all. Hopefully she'll be eating solids by then and maybe even sleeping some at night. Who knows!

You might be wondering how everything is going between the two girls? Evie loves "Sissy." Elly will probably not know that her name is actually Elly until she starts school. Since we pretty much call her Sissy. Evie doesn't even try to say Elly. Just Sissy. She loves to give Sissy kisses in the morning. And Elly absolutely beams when Evie comes up to her. I don't know why. Since frequently Evie pulls her toes and pokes her eyes. Not with any malice, just that an 18 month old doesn't really understand that others feel pain. And of course she doesn't realize that she's inflicting pain. Just trying to give Sissy her paci or examining Sissy's tiny feet. Evie has hit Elly a couple of times. Always after I've told her to stop touching Sissy or something. Just the oh-so-wonderful terrible twos coming out. Evie goes straight to time out and cries when I tell her that she hurt Sissy. All in all I think it has gone well. I can't wait til they're able to play and do things together. It will be awesome!

The last 6 weeks have been rough. Really really rough at times. I admit to wondering how in the hell I thought I could handle two kids. Although I fervently love both of my girls, I admit that over the last month and a half there have been moments when I didn't like either of them very much. I admit to occasionally losing my temper and yelling. I have asked them both to shut up (before Elly's birth I cringed at "shut up" because it is very mean! Same for the word stupid and I've used that a lot as well :-( ). I've cussed. A lot. I admit to harboring a lot of anger towards my husband some days and even more nights while I've dealt with both of our children all by myself. I've felt like the worst mom in the world a lot of times.

I've told myself that it wouldn't have been as bad as it was if we hadn't spent so much of the first 3 weeks sick and in the hospital and running back and forth to the doctor and the hospital. I tell myself we all would have handled it better and been happier then. And that I wouldn't have yelled at my babies.

Back from..."vacation"...

So I've been gone for awhile...out enjoying my maternity leave I suppose. If enjoy is even a word that can be applied. Honestly, its not. Not in relation to the whole 6 week period. The last couple of weeks were alright. But I'm going to be very honest and admit that the first month pretty much stank.

Let me catch you up on what all has transpired since my last in-depth post. I went to the hospital at oh-dark-thirty on February 7th to have a baby. I had a good breakfast before I went (something I didn't do and really regretted the first time) and had gotten a good night's sleep. I was rested, well-fed and fully expected to have Elly in my arms by supper time.

Those hopes were quickly dashed.

By lunch the doctor was talking about sending me home and having me come back in a week or two for a c-section. Despite having good, strong and regular contractions for several hours the baby had moved up, not down and I was not dilating. I cried. I was taken off the pitocin and told to walk the halls for 30 minutes to an hour and see what happened. My nurse really pissed me off by saying maybe it was best for me to go home. Maybe the baby just wasn't ready. (in hindsight, waiting a couple of weeks probably would have made a lot of things much easier. But hindsight does tend to show things in a different light) At the time, I was furious. All I could think was how disappointed I would be. And the fact that I had already taken my maternity leave from work and that they not only wouldn't let me come back and work until I had the baby, I couldn't even take any additional time because I had taken all that was available already.

So I cried some more. And prayed. And walked the halls. And cried a little more. Posted very depressed Facebook status messages. About an hour later I was put back on pitocin and my doctor called to talk to me. He explained that if I didn't progress he was worried that the baby was already too big and it wouldn't be safe to try and deliver her. He wanted me to be prepared to go home still pregnant. He said he'd see me after 5 and wished me luck.

When the doctor came to check me he deemed me worthy to proceed with labor. And shocked me by breaking my water and telling me he would be back to deliver the baby. Of course I think I was only at like a 2 at that point.

So labor progressed. I got to experience back labor. Which I was spared with my first labor. And couldn't believe anyone had survived without an epidural. I was told that I was handling the pain with a lot of grace and aplomb.Which I felt like I was being a wuss...and in wuss fashion requested my epidural. Quickly.

Labor continued to progress. Slowly.

Around 1 a.m. the nurse came in and I told her that I was feeling a lot of pressure and kind of felt the urge to push. It had been an hour since I was last checked and I was at a 6 then. I had been making such slow progress it didn't really seem likely. My husband was asleep and my mother-in-law and I had just been watching television. The nurse checked me and then instructed me very seriously NOT to push. They had to call the doctor and get the room ready.

A few minutes later the nurses bustled back in and hurriedly began to prepare the room. Turning on lights. Setting up the warmer and the equipment tables. They kept asking me how I was feeling and I kept telling them I felt like I needed to push. They again told me NOT to push. After everything was set up they checked me again and said the baby was right THERE. And again. Do not push. It was repetitive and funny.

I pushed for exactly thirty minutes. A short time in Elly's heart rate began to drop with the contractions and I was told to push really hard to get the baby out as quickly as possible. So I did. And my little Ellynor was born. The placenta was much smaller than Evie's but equally ugly. I still didn't cry. I was tired and happy and relieved. But unlike everyone on tv, I didn't cry.

I had been told so many times how quickly the second one would come. My first labor lasted about 18 hours and Evelyn was born at almost 2 a.m. My second labor also lasted about 18 hours and Ellynor was born at about 2 a.m.

The very first time I held her she smiled at me. I don't care how many people can say that babies don't smile that early. Or that it was gas. Five-minute old babies do not have gas. She opened those big blue eyes at her momma and smiled. It was precious.