My sweet Lola, this is the story of the beginning of you.
My pregnancy with you was so different than my pregnancy with Rosie. Before you were even conceived, I would always talk about future children as "the girls." Once i was pregnant though, I became convinced that you were a boy. What a happy surprise it was to find out I was wrong! We found out at 19 weeks that you were a "sister-baby," as Rosie calls you. We Face Timed your grandparents with some "happy news." We'd paid off Dad's student loan that day and thought it would be funny to make the grandparents think we were calling with pregnancy news, then tell them we were debt-free and see their reactions...and then tell them that, "Oh yeah, and we're having a baby girl in July." It was a success! Both sets of grandparents were shocked and ecstatic!
Near the end of my pregnancy, I began to feel concerned about your position. Each night, I would lie awake for hours in intense pain. I couldn't get comfortable, and I couldn't get you to stop kicking. I thought that something felt off. At about 32 weeks, my midwife confirmed that you were still front-facing, or "sunny-side up," and that that was why I was in so much pain. She told me about some stretches and (upside-down) yoga poses I could try doing each night to encourage you to flip over. I stretched and I stretched, and I stretched some more. But there was no relief.
At 38 weeks, I was dilated to a 1 and slightly effaced. Yay! Good news, I thought. At 39 weeks, I was dilated to 1.5 and slightly effaced...not what I was hoping to hear. The last weeks of pregnancy stretched on and on. I was so impatient!
"False labor" began about a week before you were born. I'd be up half the night with consistent contractions that would eventually taper off. I'd sleep for about 3 hours and then Rosie would come in and get me out of bed. This happened every other day leading up to your birth. It was frustrating and discouraging, but now I know it wasn't really "false" labor, it was more likely the beginnings of labor and very likely its what led to such a short labor and delivery.
I was up most of the night with contractions the night before you were born. I eventually fell asleep, and awoke to a normal Sunday morning. I decided that I would go to church, because I knew I'd be taking a couple of Sundays off after you were born, and I didn't want to miss too many weeks. Sacrament meeting passed, and my contractions weren't too bad, and they were 12 minutes apart. In Sunday school, they were still 12 minutes apart, but it was getting harder for me to breathe normally and I felt like I might be in labor. I was still in a little bit of disbelief because of all of the false labor the week before. We decided to leave after second hour. At home, we ate lunch and rested and Rosie napped. My contractions were getting closer together, about 8 minutes apart, when I decided to take a bath. They got down to 5 minutes apart while I bathed, and when I got out, I told Dad to call the babysitter for Rosie.
Just before 6pm, Layne Krey picked Rosie up and I kissed my only child goodbye for the last time. We called Kaiser, and the nurse said they were very busy and that I should call back at 7:30. I told Dad that he should shower and eat if he was hungry. Our bags had been packed for weeks. Dad got out of the shower, and I was lying on the floor moaning. Later he admitted that this really freaked him out because I had labored silently with Rosie and only made noise when she was actually coming out. It was about 6:30, and the nurse had said to call back at 7:30, but I knew we had to go. I hobbled to the car (grabbing a towel on the way out, just in case) while Dad grabbed our bags and called the hospital again to tell them we were coming in.
The drive to the hospital was a blur for me. I was in so much pain and I was trying not to push. Dad says he ran a few red lights, yikes! We got to the hospital at about 6:45, and I cant say why, but I insisted on walking up myself. I didn't want dad to drop me off at the front and then park the car, I wanted him to stay with me. That was romantic, but dumb. Once again, I hobbled up to the front of the hospital with Dad by my side, and a kind-but-terrified-looking man ran ahead of us and got a wheel chair for me. I'll never forget that.
Labor and Delivery is on the top floor, in the farthest corner of the Deer Valley Kaiser where you and Rosie were born. Dad put me in the elevator and we ascended to the top floor and then he rushed me down a very long hallway to meet our baby girl. We got to L&D and no one was there except for another terrified-looking man- a security guard. We stated the obvious ("she's having a baby!") and the security guard ran down the hall and got a nurse. She ushered us into triage and I got my hospital gown on, and then she checked to see how dilated I was. We could tell immediately that she was surprised at what she found. "Has your water broken yet?" she asked me. I told her that I thought it had leaked a little on the drive to the hospital (thank goodness I grabbed that towel on the way out the door). She got out her phone and dialed a midwife to come to triage immediately. The midwife arrived and I was happy to see that it was Julie Haymes, the midwife I'd seen for my entire pregnancy with Rosie and a woman I knew to be kind, but no-nonsense. She checked me and said, "You're at a 10 and this baby is coming." They raced me down the hall on the gurney with dad in tow (just like in the movies!) and put me in the first open delivery room. I climbed off the gurney onto the delivery bed and Julie told me my water was leaking and asked if she could rupture it so we could get the show on the road. Yes! As the sweet nurse tried to insert a PIC line into my arm, Julie broke my waters. As soon as that pressure was gone, I knew it was time to push. The nurse gave up on the PIC line and I told them I was ready to push and they said to go for it.
Two minutes later, you were in my arms. They told me I'd won "fastest delivery" of the night. It was 7:05pm on Sunday, July 26th, 2015. You were perfect in every way. (8 lbs, 4.6 oz, 20.5 inches!) I held you in my arms for a long time, just staring at you in disbelief. You were here! You were my baby! You looked so much like Rosie, and yet so much like your own person. That first night passed in a blur. Dad and I just kept laughing and saying, "two minutes!"
That night and the next day, you were seen by three separate pediatricians who all expressed concern over your left hip. There was a lot of talk about hip dysplasia and we were given some paperwork and an appointment with a pediatric orthopedist was scheduled for a week later in Oakland. Since then, we've seen quite a few doctors, and it was just determined that you'll wear a brace for about 10 hours a day for the next 3 months to hopefully encourage your little leg to stay in the socket. Yours is a mild case, and this will hopefully be the only treatment you'll need.
The two months that have passed since you were born have been hard and wonderful and sweet and exhausting, and I wouldn't change a minute of it. You and Rosie are the cutest little sisters. You smile every time shes within sight, and she can't get enough of you. She calls you "cutie baby" and that's exactly what you are. You're delightful. You coo and sing with daddy, you smile and giggle with me, you beam at Rosie. You like being outside and we often lie on a blanket in the grass while Rosie plays in her sandbox. You're easygoing and a good eater and sleeper. You love to snuggle and you love kisses and looking at yourself in the mirror. You sleep every time you're in a moving vehicle (hallelujah!) and we just couldn't love you more. Before you were born, Dad and I would often talk about what it'd be like once you were here. We couldn't fathom how our hearts could grow to make room for you, but could only picture our love being divided between our two girls. How wrong we were and how grateful I am for that! Our hearts grew, and our love for you is endless and eternal.
I can't wait for all your life will entail. I can't wait to watch you grow and learn. You are beautiful, lovely and bright. I love you so much, my sweet Lola Adelie. I knew you long before you were born, in a pre-existence I can only imagine. We were dear friends then, and we will be dear friends in this mortal life as well. I waited all my life for you, my darling girl. Thank you for letting me be your mother. I love you.
Meeting Lola
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Saturday, June 7, 2014
To Rosie
"Heaven blew every trumpet and played every horn on the wonderful, marvelous night you were born."
That's a line from a book called "On the Night you Were Born" that Grandma Browning bought for you after you were born. It made me cry the first time I read it and it has made me cry every time I've read it since.
We found out in October of 2012 that you would be turning our duo into a trio. Dad and I were so excited and we stayed up late many nights speculating about who you would be and assigning favorable personality traits and physical features to you. Of course, you far exceeded anything we could have dreamt up, but we'll get to that in a bit. In February of 2013 we found out that you were a daughter, not a son, and we were thrilled. Dad even admitted that he'd been hoping you were a girl. I insisted that I'd known all along. Your estimated date of arrival was June 28, 2013, and we longed for it the way you will soon come to long for Christmas morning. We were waiting for our most longed for gift.
Pregnancy was pretty typical. The first three months were full of morning sickness. I lost nearly 15 pounds that first trimester, but as soon as it was over I gained them all back in a matter of weeks (we were growing girls!). The rest of my pregnancy went smoothly. I was very tired and uncomfortable, but I was excited to be doing this for you (really for me, though).
During my pregnancy, a lot happened. Dad went to New York for two weeks to help repair the damaged power lines after Hurricane Sandy, Obama was re-elected (I called Dad crying), our car was broken into, my Uncle Tom passed away suddenly, our pet fish died (not so tragic), my childhood dog died (not tragic, but sad), and I continued working for Dr. Brown.
Two weeks before my due date I had a routine appointment with my midwife, Julie Haymes (I loved her). Dad was working about 2 hours away so I went to the appointment alone. Julie checked me out and then told me that I was dilated to 3 cm already and was 50% effaced. Wow, I was shocked and then I was freaked out. I went into the hallway and called Dad. Dad was shocked and then freaked out. We were finally going to meet you!
That appointment was on a Friday and we spent the weekend in a state of anxious anticipation. We were hoping you'd come before Monday when Dad had to go back to work in Stockton for the week, but nothing happened. Another week passed and that Friday I had another appointment. Now we were exactly a week from the due date and I thought surely you'd be coming any minute. Julie checked me out and told me I'd progressed to 4 cm and was still 50% effaced. "Any day now," she promised. I called Dad again and told him the news. Again, we waited all weekend and nothing happened.
Another anxious week passed, and now I was feeling annoyed. It was my 40 week appointment, D-Day, and still I wasn't feeling a single contraction. Dad was still working in Stockton and we had resigned ourselves to the fact that you just weren't ever coming out. How impatient we were! As I drove to (hopefully) my last appointment, the road to get to the hospital was blocked from the direction I was driving in, and I nearly screamed, I was so angry. How could they do that to me? How could they stop a 40 week pregnant woman from getting to the hospital!? A mile later I was able to make a U-turn and get on the road I needed to. Kaiser Deer Valley. I saw Julie again and she said the same old thing. I was still dilated, still effaced, still "in labor," but still not giving birth. She told me that your heart rate was low, and she was just slightly concerned. She sent me a few rooms over to have a fetal stress-test. She told me that if things weren't looking good, I would be induced within hours. I called Dad, trying not to let him hear my voice shake. Dad said he'd be there as soon as he could, he was almost off work and we'd figure this out, we'd be ok. I wasn't worried about "us" so much as I was worried about you. This wasn't my plan. This wasn't what I'd wanted.
Tied to a bunch of machines, alone in a cold hospital bed, I let the tears stream down my cheeks. One year to the day prior to this, I had miscarried our first pregnancy. It felt like this day was cursed, and I was having my heart broken all over again. Was my baby ok? What was going to happen to me, and to her? I was so worried about you. The nurse came over and checked the print out on the machine. Everything looked just fine! I was so relieved. She gave me a quick ultrasound so that I could see you and see that your heart was beating and you were moving around in there. You were so big by then that I couldn't make out any details, but I was glad to have seen you anyways. I went out to my car and called Dad. He promised to be home as soon as he could. I hung up the phone and literally sobbed my relief into my hands and thanked my Heavenly Father that you were ok.
That night, everything seemed normal when I went to bed. In fact, I was just so relieved that you were ok that I had kind of given up that anxious feeling of waiting for you. I was just happy that you were ok and I gained a little perspective and was able to be patient. I woke up at 4:45 AM to a pain in my abdomen. Was that a contraction? I laid there for a moment to see what it was, but it was gone. Hmm. I got up and emptied my shrinking bladder, and climbed back into bed. Before I had even fallen back asleep, it happened again. I decided to lie still for 5 minutes and if it happened again, I would turn on my contraction app, and start logging them. A few minutes later the pain was back. Am I really in labor? I timed them for over an hour before taking a screen shot and texting it to my friend Jessica, who was due any second with her third and would know what contractions looked like. She confirmed that I was definitely in labor. Over the next couple of hours the contractions intensified. I was letting Dad sleep because I knew it would be a long day for both of us, and I thought at least one of us should be rested. At about 8 AM, Dad woke up to me crying out in pain. I told him about the contractions, how long they'd been going on, and that he should go back to sleep. And he did. A couple of hours later when he woke up for good, it really sunk in that we were having a baby. Dad showered, got dressed, and ate breakfast while I took a bath. We called Kaiser and told them about the contractions and they told us to come in ASAP. I still wanted to wait a while so that I wouldn't run the risk of being induced. I knew I was in labor and I was trusting my body to do the right thing. We waited as long as we could, and then we just wanted to be at the hospital. I called Grandma Browning and told her that today was the day. She got on the road from San Diego almost immediately. Her bag was already packed.
At the hospital, it was surreal for me to actually be the one in labor. I'd just been there the day before and that already felt like it was a lifetime ago. Dad set me down in a wheelchair before we were checked in- the receptionist was nowhere to be seen- and I thought we would get in trouble for using it without asking. Dad took a very honest picture of me in that moment, the pain is evident in my face, and I laugh now remembering how I thought I'd be kicked out of that wheelchair. The receptionist finally came out and they got us checked in and taken back to get my vitals and discuss my birth plan. I told them I wanted to go as natural as possible, that I didn't even want and IV for fluids. I promised to drink as much as I could, and they said that was fine, but talked me into having a PICC line, just in case. They measured my belly and all that and said I was at 6 cm, and about 60% effaced. That was pretty good. They also said they thought you'd be about 7 lbs. Ha! That sounded great.
I got set up in the hospital room where you would be born. It was about 1:30 PM at this point and they gave me 5 minutes of fluids (that's all I allowed) and then left us alone. Dad and I watched the Disney movie "Up" and a few TV shows and then waited, and waited, and waited. I took a hot shower. The contractions were making my back ache and I couldn't find a comfortable position to lie down in. The hours went by, and every once in a while a nurse would come in and check the print out on the machine. So far so good. Grandma Browning got there around 8 PM and was brought back to my room. She knew she wouldn't be there for the actual birth, but she couldn't resist coming anyways and I was happy to have her there. At this point, I still hadn't been checked internally since we'd been checked in, and I knew the midwives were changing shifts at 8, so I asked if mine could come in one more time before she left just to see how much I'd progressed. She came in right away and I was at 9 cm and about 80% effaced. Wow! I'm quiet about pain and they hadn't realized I was so far along. My water hadn't broken yet and I told them that although I wanted to go "all natural," I was ok with having my water broken. They told me I was doing so well that they wanted to keep waiting for it to break on it's own. I asked if I could have them come back in an hour and break it if it hadn't happened already. They agreed, and an hour later they were back to break it. That was the best I'd felt all day! They told me that I'd probably start to feel the urge to push soon, and to press the call button when I did. They all left the room and Dad and I just looked at each other. With the very next contraction I told him that I couldn't stop myself from pushing. He ran out into the hallway and called to our nurse to come back in.
Giving birth is the craziest thing in the world. The nurses and midwife, Kit Aldridge, had been telling me that I was doing great and that you were almost here. Almost. They said it so many times, but to me, almost meant that you were out to your ankles. Finally, I asked what "almost" meant and they told me that they could see your hair. Ha!
After a half hour of pushing, it became clear that your umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck. Luckily, it was wrapped under your arm as well, tying your arm to your head. This meant that you were breathing fine, but it was going to be a lot harder for me to get you out. Your little hand was in a fist right at the top of your perfect head. Dad kept leaning in and whispering encouragement and telling me how strong I was and that I was beautiful. That really helped. After a while longer, he grabbed my hand and put it on your head. It was wet, and perfect, and full of curly hair! What a surprise! Touching my baby for the first time gave me the wave of strength that I needed to get you out. The midwife told me I could probably have you out in a few more contractions. I did it in one. Once you were out past your shoulders, the midwife told me to reach down and grab my baby. At 10:03 PM on June 29, 2013, I grabbed you beneath your arms and pulled you onto my chest. "Oh, my rosy baby!" I thought as I pulled your perfect pink body onto me. Dad and I had been considering two names, Rosie and another (that may end up being a sister's name someday, so we'll leave it at that) but we were leaning towards the other name. After I'd called you "rosy" unintentionally, it was hard to think of you as the other name (we ended up debating for almost 24 hours before naming you). You were here, and you were perfect. I got to hold you for a while and Dad and I felt like the heavens had opened (because they had) and you'd been given to us. They cleaned you up and weighed and measured you (8 lbs, 5 oz, 21.5 inches long) and then Dad got to hold you for the first time. I've never seen him so quiet. He just looked at you like he was looking at the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, because he was. Grandma came back in after that, and it was love at first sight for her, too.
That night they put you in a little see-through crib next to my bed and told us to get some rest. Dad fell asleep pretty quickly and I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't stand being so far apart from you. I pulled your little bundled up body into my bed and slept with you in the crook of my arm. We both slept all night.
The next day was Sunday and we made it official that you were Rosie Belle Schimpf. We spent all day just staring at you and taking pictures of you to send to the family. You got to meet baby Cameron that day, too. My friend Jessica had gone into labor after I did, and delivered just down the hall from where you were born, about 7 hours later, and with the same midwife. Different birthdays, but only hours apart. It was a wonderful weekend for us tired mommies (I was a mommy!!).
We convinced the nurses to let us go home a day early, as you and I were perfectly fine. You didn't even have jaundice. My rosy Rosie. Dad drove us home more cautiously than you can imagine. And Grandma was there waiting for us. She gave me a blanket that my Baba had made a long time ago and I wrapped you in it and cried happy tears.
What a beautiful, bright, brilliant daughter you are. Dad and I had high expectations of you, but you have been greater than anything we could have imagined. You are the most determined child I have ever met. You learned to walk without even holding my hands because you knew you could do it yourself. I knew you could, too. I have never been more proud of anything in my life than I am of being your mother. I love you with my whole heart. You are the daughter I always hoped I'd have. You are a daughter of God, I know that without a doubt. I am so grateful for you and for the sunshine you bring to our family. I can't wait to watch you grow; you impress me more every day. I love you so much, Rosie Belle, and I always will. Happy (almost) birthday, my love!
That's a line from a book called "On the Night you Were Born" that Grandma Browning bought for you after you were born. It made me cry the first time I read it and it has made me cry every time I've read it since.
We found out in October of 2012 that you would be turning our duo into a trio. Dad and I were so excited and we stayed up late many nights speculating about who you would be and assigning favorable personality traits and physical features to you. Of course, you far exceeded anything we could have dreamt up, but we'll get to that in a bit. In February of 2013 we found out that you were a daughter, not a son, and we were thrilled. Dad even admitted that he'd been hoping you were a girl. I insisted that I'd known all along. Your estimated date of arrival was June 28, 2013, and we longed for it the way you will soon come to long for Christmas morning. We were waiting for our most longed for gift.
Pregnancy was pretty typical. The first three months were full of morning sickness. I lost nearly 15 pounds that first trimester, but as soon as it was over I gained them all back in a matter of weeks (we were growing girls!). The rest of my pregnancy went smoothly. I was very tired and uncomfortable, but I was excited to be doing this for you (really for me, though).
During my pregnancy, a lot happened. Dad went to New York for two weeks to help repair the damaged power lines after Hurricane Sandy, Obama was re-elected (I called Dad crying), our car was broken into, my Uncle Tom passed away suddenly, our pet fish died (not so tragic), my childhood dog died (not tragic, but sad), and I continued working for Dr. Brown.
Two weeks before my due date I had a routine appointment with my midwife, Julie Haymes (I loved her). Dad was working about 2 hours away so I went to the appointment alone. Julie checked me out and then told me that I was dilated to 3 cm already and was 50% effaced. Wow, I was shocked and then I was freaked out. I went into the hallway and called Dad. Dad was shocked and then freaked out. We were finally going to meet you!
That appointment was on a Friday and we spent the weekend in a state of anxious anticipation. We were hoping you'd come before Monday when Dad had to go back to work in Stockton for the week, but nothing happened. Another week passed and that Friday I had another appointment. Now we were exactly a week from the due date and I thought surely you'd be coming any minute. Julie checked me out and told me I'd progressed to 4 cm and was still 50% effaced. "Any day now," she promised. I called Dad again and told him the news. Again, we waited all weekend and nothing happened.
Another anxious week passed, and now I was feeling annoyed. It was my 40 week appointment, D-Day, and still I wasn't feeling a single contraction. Dad was still working in Stockton and we had resigned ourselves to the fact that you just weren't ever coming out. How impatient we were! As I drove to (hopefully) my last appointment, the road to get to the hospital was blocked from the direction I was driving in, and I nearly screamed, I was so angry. How could they do that to me? How could they stop a 40 week pregnant woman from getting to the hospital!? A mile later I was able to make a U-turn and get on the road I needed to. Kaiser Deer Valley. I saw Julie again and she said the same old thing. I was still dilated, still effaced, still "in labor," but still not giving birth. She told me that your heart rate was low, and she was just slightly concerned. She sent me a few rooms over to have a fetal stress-test. She told me that if things weren't looking good, I would be induced within hours. I called Dad, trying not to let him hear my voice shake. Dad said he'd be there as soon as he could, he was almost off work and we'd figure this out, we'd be ok. I wasn't worried about "us" so much as I was worried about you. This wasn't my plan. This wasn't what I'd wanted.
Tied to a bunch of machines, alone in a cold hospital bed, I let the tears stream down my cheeks. One year to the day prior to this, I had miscarried our first pregnancy. It felt like this day was cursed, and I was having my heart broken all over again. Was my baby ok? What was going to happen to me, and to her? I was so worried about you. The nurse came over and checked the print out on the machine. Everything looked just fine! I was so relieved. She gave me a quick ultrasound so that I could see you and see that your heart was beating and you were moving around in there. You were so big by then that I couldn't make out any details, but I was glad to have seen you anyways. I went out to my car and called Dad. He promised to be home as soon as he could. I hung up the phone and literally sobbed my relief into my hands and thanked my Heavenly Father that you were ok.
That night, everything seemed normal when I went to bed. In fact, I was just so relieved that you were ok that I had kind of given up that anxious feeling of waiting for you. I was just happy that you were ok and I gained a little perspective and was able to be patient. I woke up at 4:45 AM to a pain in my abdomen. Was that a contraction? I laid there for a moment to see what it was, but it was gone. Hmm. I got up and emptied my shrinking bladder, and climbed back into bed. Before I had even fallen back asleep, it happened again. I decided to lie still for 5 minutes and if it happened again, I would turn on my contraction app, and start logging them. A few minutes later the pain was back. Am I really in labor? I timed them for over an hour before taking a screen shot and texting it to my friend Jessica, who was due any second with her third and would know what contractions looked like. She confirmed that I was definitely in labor. Over the next couple of hours the contractions intensified. I was letting Dad sleep because I knew it would be a long day for both of us, and I thought at least one of us should be rested. At about 8 AM, Dad woke up to me crying out in pain. I told him about the contractions, how long they'd been going on, and that he should go back to sleep. And he did. A couple of hours later when he woke up for good, it really sunk in that we were having a baby. Dad showered, got dressed, and ate breakfast while I took a bath. We called Kaiser and told them about the contractions and they told us to come in ASAP. I still wanted to wait a while so that I wouldn't run the risk of being induced. I knew I was in labor and I was trusting my body to do the right thing. We waited as long as we could, and then we just wanted to be at the hospital. I called Grandma Browning and told her that today was the day. She got on the road from San Diego almost immediately. Her bag was already packed.
At the hospital, it was surreal for me to actually be the one in labor. I'd just been there the day before and that already felt like it was a lifetime ago. Dad set me down in a wheelchair before we were checked in- the receptionist was nowhere to be seen- and I thought we would get in trouble for using it without asking. Dad took a very honest picture of me in that moment, the pain is evident in my face, and I laugh now remembering how I thought I'd be kicked out of that wheelchair. The receptionist finally came out and they got us checked in and taken back to get my vitals and discuss my birth plan. I told them I wanted to go as natural as possible, that I didn't even want and IV for fluids. I promised to drink as much as I could, and they said that was fine, but talked me into having a PICC line, just in case. They measured my belly and all that and said I was at 6 cm, and about 60% effaced. That was pretty good. They also said they thought you'd be about 7 lbs. Ha! That sounded great.
I got set up in the hospital room where you would be born. It was about 1:30 PM at this point and they gave me 5 minutes of fluids (that's all I allowed) and then left us alone. Dad and I watched the Disney movie "Up" and a few TV shows and then waited, and waited, and waited. I took a hot shower. The contractions were making my back ache and I couldn't find a comfortable position to lie down in. The hours went by, and every once in a while a nurse would come in and check the print out on the machine. So far so good. Grandma Browning got there around 8 PM and was brought back to my room. She knew she wouldn't be there for the actual birth, but she couldn't resist coming anyways and I was happy to have her there. At this point, I still hadn't been checked internally since we'd been checked in, and I knew the midwives were changing shifts at 8, so I asked if mine could come in one more time before she left just to see how much I'd progressed. She came in right away and I was at 9 cm and about 80% effaced. Wow! I'm quiet about pain and they hadn't realized I was so far along. My water hadn't broken yet and I told them that although I wanted to go "all natural," I was ok with having my water broken. They told me I was doing so well that they wanted to keep waiting for it to break on it's own. I asked if I could have them come back in an hour and break it if it hadn't happened already. They agreed, and an hour later they were back to break it. That was the best I'd felt all day! They told me that I'd probably start to feel the urge to push soon, and to press the call button when I did. They all left the room and Dad and I just looked at each other. With the very next contraction I told him that I couldn't stop myself from pushing. He ran out into the hallway and called to our nurse to come back in.
Giving birth is the craziest thing in the world. The nurses and midwife, Kit Aldridge, had been telling me that I was doing great and that you were almost here. Almost. They said it so many times, but to me, almost meant that you were out to your ankles. Finally, I asked what "almost" meant and they told me that they could see your hair. Ha!
After a half hour of pushing, it became clear that your umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck. Luckily, it was wrapped under your arm as well, tying your arm to your head. This meant that you were breathing fine, but it was going to be a lot harder for me to get you out. Your little hand was in a fist right at the top of your perfect head. Dad kept leaning in and whispering encouragement and telling me how strong I was and that I was beautiful. That really helped. After a while longer, he grabbed my hand and put it on your head. It was wet, and perfect, and full of curly hair! What a surprise! Touching my baby for the first time gave me the wave of strength that I needed to get you out. The midwife told me I could probably have you out in a few more contractions. I did it in one. Once you were out past your shoulders, the midwife told me to reach down and grab my baby. At 10:03 PM on June 29, 2013, I grabbed you beneath your arms and pulled you onto my chest. "Oh, my rosy baby!" I thought as I pulled your perfect pink body onto me. Dad and I had been considering two names, Rosie and another (that may end up being a sister's name someday, so we'll leave it at that) but we were leaning towards the other name. After I'd called you "rosy" unintentionally, it was hard to think of you as the other name (we ended up debating for almost 24 hours before naming you). You were here, and you were perfect. I got to hold you for a while and Dad and I felt like the heavens had opened (because they had) and you'd been given to us. They cleaned you up and weighed and measured you (8 lbs, 5 oz, 21.5 inches long) and then Dad got to hold you for the first time. I've never seen him so quiet. He just looked at you like he was looking at the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, because he was. Grandma came back in after that, and it was love at first sight for her, too.
That night they put you in a little see-through crib next to my bed and told us to get some rest. Dad fell asleep pretty quickly and I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't stand being so far apart from you. I pulled your little bundled up body into my bed and slept with you in the crook of my arm. We both slept all night.
The next day was Sunday and we made it official that you were Rosie Belle Schimpf. We spent all day just staring at you and taking pictures of you to send to the family. You got to meet baby Cameron that day, too. My friend Jessica had gone into labor after I did, and delivered just down the hall from where you were born, about 7 hours later, and with the same midwife. Different birthdays, but only hours apart. It was a wonderful weekend for us tired mommies (I was a mommy!!).
We convinced the nurses to let us go home a day early, as you and I were perfectly fine. You didn't even have jaundice. My rosy Rosie. Dad drove us home more cautiously than you can imagine. And Grandma was there waiting for us. She gave me a blanket that my Baba had made a long time ago and I wrapped you in it and cried happy tears.
What a beautiful, bright, brilliant daughter you are. Dad and I had high expectations of you, but you have been greater than anything we could have imagined. You are the most determined child I have ever met. You learned to walk without even holding my hands because you knew you could do it yourself. I knew you could, too. I have never been more proud of anything in my life than I am of being your mother. I love you with my whole heart. You are the daughter I always hoped I'd have. You are a daughter of God, I know that without a doubt. I am so grateful for you and for the sunshine you bring to our family. I can't wait to watch you grow; you impress me more every day. I love you so much, Rosie Belle, and I always will. Happy (almost) birthday, my love!
Monday, November 7, 2011
The Delta
One of the only things we love about our little city is the Delta, a body of water in which the San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers meet and then funnel out to the sea. We live about five minutes from the Antioch Marina, which might lead you to believe we live in a nice area, but that is not the case. It's so strange to me that here, the closer you get to the water, the trashier it gets. But anyways, we love the Delta and it has become our new favorite place to go to on free dates. The marina is beautiful and maintained well because it's a Dow Wetlands Preserve so it's not a scary place to hang out, like the rest of our neighborhood. We went on a walk around the marina the other night and while we were circling it, the tide came in. It flooded past the tule reeds and cattails and over the sidewalk. It was only about six inches deep but it was still really exciting and we had fun wading back to dry groud. We even saw a baby bass swim across the sidewalk on our way back. We're really happy to have found such a quiet little place to spend evenings together free of charge, and we look forward to exploring the other natural wonders of our not-so-wonderful little city.
Driving Stick Shift
Bleh. Being here, without Steven, and having the car has made me learn it much faster than I was allowing myself to back when we had two cars. My grandma Browning would say “Bless his heart” about Steven putting up with me during this process.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
DDR Above Us
The balcony above our patio is devoid of personal belongings; no chairs, or barbecue, or plants. The blinds to the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony are continually shut. I’ve never seen anyone going in or out of it. My ceiling is silent during the day. But, in the night, the stomping begins. I would swear someone is up there playing dance dance revolution.
Needless to say, I cannot wait to catch a glimpse of this night-dancing phantom.
Needless to say, I cannot wait to catch a glimpse of this night-dancing phantom.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
Come What May, and Love It
Steven and I have been married since February of this year. It’s been quite an adventure. From eloping in good ole Boise, to living in Santee and working hard to find Steven a job, and me saving every one of the three pennies I made in that time period, to the excitement of getting hired by Rocky Mountain Power, to the crush of losing it by a delayed background check, to now, being here in Antioch, CA, having the opportunity to work for the best power company in the nation. It all looks so simple, laid out in writing like that. But it’s been difficult, and wonderful. We’ve grown closer in the 5 months of our marriage than we did in the entire year that we dated.
In our year and a half together, we’ve spent seven and a half months apart. That includes the first two months of our marriage. After every separation, we’ve sworn to each other that that was the very last time we’ll ever be apart. And then something new comes up. And when that separation is over, we swear it again. That was the last time. But here we find ourselves again, separated. For the first seven weeks of Steven’s job he’ll be living at his training center in San Ramon, about 45 minutes away from Antioch, Sunday night through Friday night. The training is so intense, and the company is so intent on punctuality, that someone in Steven’s group has already been fired. For being two minutes late. Terrifying. That is what’s keeping us strong during this time apart. We need this job. And Steven needs to be there.
We always find a way.
In our year and a half together, we’ve spent seven and a half months apart. That includes the first two months of our marriage. After every separation, we’ve sworn to each other that that was the very last time we’ll ever be apart. And then something new comes up. And when that separation is over, we swear it again. That was the last time. But here we find ourselves again, separated. For the first seven weeks of Steven’s job he’ll be living at his training center in San Ramon, about 45 minutes away from Antioch, Sunday night through Friday night. The training is so intense, and the company is so intent on punctuality, that someone in Steven’s group has already been fired. For being two minutes late. Terrifying. That is what’s keeping us strong during this time apart. We need this job. And Steven needs to be there.
We always find a way.
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