Three Years Ago Today

This hardly seems possible, but three years ago today we grew in size. A family of four. Our girl, my girl was born on this day.

I've been contemplating this day for the past few weeks. For some reason the odd years always get to me. We'll all have odd birthdays this year. The Boy, 5. Miss Thing now 3. In a few weeks Little Miss will be 1. Even I will celebrated my first 29th birthday this year. I'm not sure what it is about the odd years but they seem to cause me more to ponder about.

Going back to the birthday girl. Her story starts a little further back than this day three years ago. When I learned I was pregnant I thought I felt quite certain that it would obviously be another boy. I also felt quite certain that this is what I wanted. I knew I wasn't ready for a girl. More specifically I wasn't ready for one of my girls.

I knew if we were to have a girl she would undoubtedly be just like me. In an effort not to sound vain this is the exact reason I wasn't ready for her. I think over the years my flare for the dramatic has somewhat lessened. I do have memories of carrying on about things that I felt so passionate about but now are the stuff of laughter filled "remember when's." One such occasion when my future brother-in-law was coming to stay at our house for the weekend. Upon learning that he would be staying in my room I immediately set out to change my parents mind. I paced in the hallway recounting all of the reasons why he shouldn't be allowed to stay in my room. My biggest argument, he will go through my stuff! Why I thought that a man, in his twenties, who was about to marry my sister would care about the secret contents of the drawers of his intendeds 15 year old sister is beyond me. For all of this I was certain I wasn't ready for a girl.

Looking back on it, despite all of her drama hers is the story that is without drama. At least the drama her brother, sister and even I caused during these experiences of bringing my children into the world.

Going back to the Birthday Girl. When I learned that the baby I was carrying would be a girl I nearly jumped off the table. How could this be? I was so sure it would be a boy. I had similar feelings when I was pregnant with The Boy and thought that I had those same feelings this time. Perhaps I was so convinced of what I really wanted that I paid little attention to what I was really feeling. Over the next few months, before she was born, I began to get used to the idea. The sheer amount of pink that flooded us in preparation I think might have helped this along.

As the time drew nearer for her to be born I began to care less that I was wrong and it really wasn't a boy. I didn't care what it was I was just ready not to be pregnant any more. Given that The Boy had come two weeks early I had convinced myself that this baby would surely be the same. She didn't come early, she didn't come late either. That is something I don't think I could handle. The scriptures tell us that we won't be given anything that we cannot handle, going overdue would fall in that category for me. No, like me, she came right on time.

Those last two weeks before she was born were some of the longest weeks of my life. I felt almost like I was reliving the entire 9 months again. I was beginning to think that I would be pregnant forever.

My mother thought it would be neat if she was born on her father's birthday, that day came and went. Another choice was on the 24th, my half-birthday. No baby that day. My husband's mother, who we had invited to come to the hospital when and if this baby decided to make her presence known, didn't want her to be born until school was out. She was born on a Friday, just hours after school got out for the summer.

I had decided to work as long as I was able. My due date was the 29th and because of my set work schedule my last night would be the 25th. I was only able to take off 6 weeks. I did not want to spend any portion of that being pregnant. I went to work that evening early to attend a mandatory hospital wide training. Two hours of sitting on a hard chair did little to help my uncomfortable state. After the training I went to the lab and got to work. I learned not long after being there that the girl I was supposed to work with was not feeling well and feeling worse as the night went on. I little choice but to move on and get as much done as I could. It wasn't that busy and so I was able to get a lot done before the lab assistants went home. I remember even chatting with one of them and somehow got on the story of when The Boy was born. We laughed over the thought of me staying at school while I was in labor.

It was about midnight when the contractions began. And continued all throughout the night, every 5 minutes or so. Sometimes they would be less noticeable than others. After about 1:30 everyone had left and I was there alone. I informed some of the departments that I was working alone, but I didn't tell them I was having contractions. When morning came I began to call one of the ladies coming in on day shift, hoping she would be able to come in early. For a half hour I wasn't able to reach her. When I finally did she came in as soon as she could. As more people began to arrive the more exhausted I felt. I had already made up my mind that I wasn't leaving the hospital that morning. When I thought David would be up I called to tell him that I wasn't coming home and he should get here when he could.

I left work and walked over to a waiting room to wait for David. When he came he thought maybe we should go and get something to eat. Feeling so close to being done I didn't want to. I wanted to get it all over with. We checked into Labor and Delivery. I was only about 2 centimeters, not that much different than I was at my doctors appointment earlier in the week. I tried walking around for a while to see if that made any difference. It really didn't, I was feeling tired and discouraged. The nurse called my doctor then came in and asked me if I would like him to just come and break my water. Yes! I said and she let me know he was already on his way.

After he broke my water, at about 9:30 or so, the contractions started to die off and I started to dose. They came and started me on Pitocin to get them moving again. It was about 11 o'clock. And move they did. Almost immediately too. My sister was on Pit for her first baby and it did little to help her. After just 15 or 20 minutes I couldn't believe that it did absolutely nothing for her!

We continued this way for a little while. My labor was progressing, but we still thought it wouldn't be until early evening that this baby would be here. The nurse asked a couple of times if I would like an epidural I had wanted to see if I could just a little while longer. The anesthesiologist was about to go into to surgery, meaning that it could be hours before I got another chance for an epidural. I decided to just go ahead and get it. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon. The nurse checked me right before I had the epidural, I can't remember what I was dilated to maybe a 6 or 7. By the time he was done getting it all in and situated my mother-in-law arrived. I began to recount all the events of the past 16 hours or so. Then I started to feel something odd. I felt it again before David started yelling at me to call the nurse. I hadn't even finished my story. She rushed in and checked me I was dilated to a 10. This was unbelievable that it could be happening so fast all of the sudden. They called the doctor, who was in surgery down the hall, he was relieved by another doctor and came running. It was just a little before 2. I began pushing and ten minutes later Ruth was born. 6 lbs 3 ounces 19 1/2 inches long, exactly the same weight and length as her brother. She had a full head of dark hair. She was absolutely beautiful, everyone said this not just me. When my father-in-law would come later to visit he was amazed at how beautiful she looked so newly born.

The anesthesiologist came in to take the epidural out not an hour after it had been in. Not long after I was able to get up and move around a little, and then even walked to my recovery room. I felt great, although somewhat tired having been up for almost 24 hours. I was shocked at the difference between my two experiences with having babies.

I let the nurses take her to the nursery so I could get some sleep that night. Sometime in the wee hours they brought in a screaming baby, they had tried to get her to take a bottle but she wasn't having it. She wanted mom. So it began. She had gotten herself so worked up that I had to calm her down before even trying to feed her. Now, three years later, there is no way for me to even count the number of times I've had to calm her down before she'll listen to reason. Just as I knew she would be she is like me in so many ways it's a little scary. It's been eye opening too. Seeing what I consider my worse traits coming out in a one, two and now three year old. She constantly humbles me. And she provides me with some unpredictability, which I struggle with. I never know what my day is going to be like with her.

Here are a few reasons why we love Ruth...

• She has an infectious smile. It's hard to not smile when she is smiling at you.


• Her imagination astounds me. The things she comes up with. I try to capture as much of it as I can but she is constantly surprising me with new things.


• She loves to sing. Often she can be found holding a "microphone" making up a song that only she understands. She goes on and on not realizing, I think, that we are listening in. When she finally notices us she stops and giggles.


• She loves to help. Going and getting things, throwing things away, passing things out. When she ranting about somethings I can often pull her out of it by simply asking for her help.


• You have to admit, she is dang cute!


• Despite the fact that their presences sometimes drives her crazy and I think she has thoughts of being an only child she truly loves her brother and sister. I think while their relationship is that of any other sibling relationship (they sure know how to push, shove and throw stuff at each others buttons) it is truly something special.


• Fashion sense. I love that she can dress herself and pick out her own clothes. Most days either nothing quite matches or she is wearing every shade of pink that she can find in her drawers. I have to admit that I encourage her in this form of self expression.


• Lets face it, she's just like me. Isn't imitation the sincerest form of flattery?

Happy Birthday Girly Girl!