To Lila B, the story of your birth

Stocking Stuffer. And so much more.

You were an incredibly easy pregnancy. You gave me terrible insomnia, but other than that I can't complain much. You were due on January 6th and scheduled to arrive December 30th.

On December 22 I went in for a check up and my doctor said "This is a big baby." She also said I was 2-3 centimeters dilated. Yikes.

Christmas Eve I felt pretty bad, and C/D seemed a little under the weather. So, in very bad Catholic fashion, we opted out of going to mass because I didn't think standing that long would be good for me and I didn't want C/D to get worse. I can't actually remember much other than it was a VERY uneventful Christmas Eve (I think we may even have ordered pizza), which bummed me out because I love Christmas Eve. We did put the cookies, milk and carrots out--right outside the door of course.

Luckily I had gotten everything ready just in case I'd gone into labor (the idea that Santa is a man is a joke...who 'makes Christmas happen' in your family? Yeah, I thought so). so all I had to do was bring up the stockings and gifts from the office. And I have to admit, I was REALLY proud of the girls' stockings this year. I had started buying little things for them in September, and they were filled (all wrapped too!) with the things they love but that were also somewhat useful-bandaids, stickers, socks, a bath whistle, bath soap, some candy, etc. I was so excited for them to open them. The only person I didn't fill up was Andrew because I thought I'd wait until the am so he wouldn't see the stuff (not that there was a lot poor guy).

At about 4:40 on Christmas morning I woke up to contractions. Nothing new really, by that time I was waking all the time either to go to the bathroom or deal with contractions. I go to the bathroom and lay back down. The contractions don't stop, and I wonder if they seem to be getting stronger and closer together. Having never been in labor I have no clue....but I have a bad hunch. About 4:55 my rustling around wakes Andrew up and I tell him I think I might be going into labor. According to him, the actual quote was "Mother f*cker I think I'm going into labor." At 5am I stand up again thinking I might just be able to pee it out, and shoosh!! my water breaks. Now the thing that cracks me up is that when I finally got to the hospital they kept asking me "are you sure your water broke?" And if you have ever had your water broken you know what I'm talking about. "UH YEAH. I don't usually pee all over myself, and my pee doesn't usually come out like a geyser. I'm sure."

In the movies the water breaking is always an exciting but stressful thing. I promptly burst into tears. I didn't want to leave my girls on Christmas. I didn't want to have a random doctor. And I didn't want to have a baby on Christmas. After the last pregnancy I thought I deserved the kind of delivery everyone else had...normal. Ugh.

So I called my mom, crying. She said she and Chris were on their way. I love you more than anything Mom, but I wasn't sure what that meant, and my doctor had said I could go quickly given my dilation, so I drove myself to the hospital while Andrew waited for them. Yep. And I circled the block so I wouldn't have to pay to park in the parking lot (one benefit of having a kid christmas morning--no traffic). So I walk in to the OB emergency entrance and with a very sad face tell the nurse "I'm in labor." And she looks like she really feels sorry for me.

So we go through the admitting process and I am contracting, and I have a question: HOW DOES ANYONE DO NATURAL CHILDBIRTH???? Those contractions freaking HURT. I am in awe of anyone who does. I kept asking when the spinal came into play...apparently not until I got into the operating room. Andrew shows up. Then we just have to wait for Lofquist, the doctor on call, to get done with another delivery. We look at your monitor and I realize that all that heart rate/gender prediction stuff is bs, because you are riding at about 120 the entire time, except when I contract, when you go up to 160. They tell us they are ready at about 6:40. We take one last belly pic and Andrew takes a mask pic for C and D and we walk up.

In the operating room I'm contracting and know the doctor thinks I am a total wimp because I'm having trouble sitting still for him while he inserts the spinal (did I mention those contractions hurt?) I am feeling dizzy, my blood pressure is low, I can't remember how they fix it, but they do. The OB on call is very capable but a little dry. It is the last delivery for these people on the night shift before they head home to their families for Christmas. Needless to say they are anxious to get out of there. I miss my OB. I ask this one about the steroids to help with the scar. She says they might not have them in the hospital in which case I'm SOL. They do which is nice. I ask about 'taking some of the fat out' which my doctor said she would do for me (another reason to go for #4!) and she looks at me like I'm on crack.

Andrew comes in and they get the show rolling. I swear I may have had a little too much meds because because I am actually having trouble staying awake. This time around I know what to expect so the pulling doesn't bother me. They don't let andrew look because he hasn't had breakfast yet. They pull you out, and I hear Andrew say "It's a girl."

Now I might delete this paragraph later. But let me tell you I was shocked. I was sure you were a boy. Every Asian woman in San Francisco (and there are many) was sure you were a boy. The ureter issue is almost always a boy problem. And yes, I wanted a boy. (Then again, I'm a second girl and Andrew is a second boy, and we rock, and we think our parents are so lucky to have had us!!!) Mostly because I worry so much that you will be left out more, and I think it will be hard to be a girl after identical twin girls. And because I love having brothers and wanted my girls to have that too. But I'm telling you this not because I don't adore you, but because I urge every woman considering not finding out to think long and hard about it. If you really don't care, go for it. But that 'It will be so great' usually comes from people who get what they expected. Or people who really have that instant "I feel one with my baby" feeling. I'm not that person. I worship my kids, but when they first come out I realize I feel a little bit like "Hey, that's a baby. Cool" not "You and I were meant for each other." My sweet mother-in-law kept asking me if I was going to find out, and I thought she was thinking more of the convenience. Now I realize she was just trying to help me avoid what might not be the moment I expected it to be. I was in shock, and instead of celebrating the miracle of you, me and my hormonal body were completely confused, and I feel like I lost some precious moments grieving what could have been instead of celebrating the wondrous thing that was. I definitely won't make that mistake again. : )

So out you came, and honestly, a lot of the delivery room is a blur. You went to the Fat Baby nursery...because you were fat! The combined weight of C and D in fact...to the ounce. The pediatrician on call that week said before she knew you were 'her baby' to look after she was admiring how much your father was ooing and ahhing over you after birth. Then together you and I were wheeled into our tiny hospital room. Later you met your sisters and grandparents, but then you and I had most of the day to get to know each other, because having a baby on Christmas is actually a pretty lonely experience (and TV at Christmas sucks!) So we got some nice hang time. That's what I will remember most from my stay in the hospital. A lot of you and me time. And I liked that. (Oh, and your umbilical "stump" fell off after 2 days, which apparently happens to about '1 in 1000 babies' according to the nurse. Clearly you are already very advanced. : ))

And let it be said, you were the prettiest baby in the nursery. Not a lot of competition on Christmas maybe, but still, you were the prettiest. (I was the ugliest baby in the nursery--ask my mom). And while my heart still breaks a little for C and D on that day (There are quotes at school on the wall, from the kids about what they did on vacation. The one from Dylan says "My baby comes. It was not fun because she came on Christmas, and my mommy was bleeding." That and C and D can't figure out what Andrew did that was so bad Santa didn't put anything in his stocking), for you, I am glad. Because it means you are special. And because no one will A) forget your birthday or B) complain when I celebrate it every year on June 25th. And because Christmas is my favorite time of year--I'm not a Thanksgiving girl so I usually go right from Halloween to Christmas preparation. Which now means I get an entire season of anticipating not just Christmas, but your birthday!!! (And because Dec 26th might actually be the worst day of the year to be born, unless you live in England). And because my mother can laugh her ass off that the kid who bitched about having a Christmas birthday actually had a kid on Christmas freaking Day. Seriously though, my parents always did a good job of making me feel like I was special for having a Christmastime birthday, and I hope to do the same for you.
If 10 years ago someone would have asked me if there was anything I really didn't want to happen (I mean outside of actual bad things), I'd probably say I wouldn't want to have three girls and I definitely would never want a kid born around Christmas. Which just means that you must be exactly what I need. You sweet, beautiful, special little thing. Thursday's Child has far to go. I see big things for you Miss Lila B. And I'm so thrilled to have you on the team.