A year ago right now, I was starting to wonder if the contractions might be the real thing. They weren’t regular at all, but they just kept coming, all evening long.
I was scheduled to be induced with Little One on Friday, May 1, and my parents were going to come out and stay with the boys and be here to help with everything. That wasn’t going to happen if the little darling decided to make her appearance early, and it looked like she might be doing just that.
We found friends who could watch the kids if we needed it. We packed the hospital bag and diaper bag and tried to go to sleep. I did sleep, for a couple hours I think.
Contractions woke me up, but they were all over the place. A long one. Ten minutes later, a short one. Five minutes later, another short one. Then twenty minutes and a long one. Then half an hour with nothing. At 3am I gave up and went back to bed. At 5am a very strong contraction woke me, and then ten minutes later I had another one. By 6 they were seven minutes apart and we were calling the hospital and our friends and waking the kids up.
We were on our way.
It must have been around 7 when we arrived at the hospital, but honestly after dropping the kids off and stopping for a snack (because I was starving and I knew they wouldn’t let me eat once I was admitted!), it’s all kind of a blur. We parked the car and walked across the parking lot and the whole time I was having contractions still. We chose her middle name as we went through the revolving door at the front of the hospital.
They put me in a room, checked my vitals and my dilation and monitored my contractions and I laid there and for a few minutes it felt like they didn’t believe me and were going to send me home, but then we were going to a room and getting an IV and having my water broken and walking the halls till they were too powerful and painful and close together.
The epidural made me itchy and made the baby’s heart rate drop, so there was awhile with an oxygen mask and feeling like I was going to claw my face off. And then there was the doctor behind his blue mask and the coaching to push and the effort and strain and pain in spite of the medicine and then–
She was wailing and in my arms with her dark hair and scrunched-up face and oh, the anger at being ripped from her warm dark place, and I cried and she cried and Art cut her cord and they took her for a few moments and did weights and measurements while the doctor fixed me up and then she was back in my arms and beautiful and once again, everything changed.
And it was all a blur punctuated by crystal-clear moments, just like life when you think about it, and every day we are reminded when we say her name of the grace God showed when he gave her to us, and the grace He gives every moment for every challenge.
A year ago, her first cries pierced our hearts with joy and amazement and beauty.
And we thank God for His Grace.
Happy birthday, little Squeezy. We couldn’t love you more if we tried.