Love this Boy

Hunter's First bath

Grandma Higham came to help out the first week after Hunter was born. Not so much came, I guess, since she lives about 5 miles down the road, but she did come over and helped with meals and taking care of the kids. We "let" her go home at nights because Hunter was such a good sleeper. One of the traditions we have is letting Grandma give the first bath after we get home.

As you can tell, Hunter was not so into the whole bath thing. . .

. . .until he got his hair washed and then he was in heaven.

Grandma and a clean and happy baby Hunter.

Meeting the Family

With the Flu Season being so bad this year, the kids were not allowed to come to the hospital, so they didn't get to meet Hunter for "two whole days" (as Spencer would put it). Spencer was in school when we came home, so we stopped by and picked him up so he wouldn't miss out on the excitement.

The kid's eyes glowed as they looked at their little brother. Some might think that to them it is just another sibling, but they couldn't wait to hold him and talk to him. They love their baby Hunter.

Bailey, Grandpa Higham and Hunter

Spencer, Grandpa Higham and Hunter

Natalie and Hunter

Tanner and Hunter

Our First Family Picture

Liz, Michael, Grandpa Higham, Rachel and Becky

Tanner, Natalie, Grandpa Higham and Hunter

Grandpa Higham and the famous kiss of the nose of baby Hunter

Tanner, Uncle Michael, Natalie and Hunter (can you tell the kids couldn't leave their brother alone for even a minute while someone else held him?)

Aunt Liz

Uncle Michael and Hunter (that is one big yawn!)

Aunt Becky and Hunter

Natalie's first time holding Hunter on her own

Spencer's first time, all kicked back and relaxed!

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I had my day all planned out to the minute. Being that it was Natalie's birthday (and being that I am one of the greatest procrastinators on earth), I set my alarm for 6:00 AM so that I could get Natalie's presents wrapped before the kids woke up. Then I knew what I was doing from that point until I went to bed. There was a special breakfast to make, morning routine to get done, getting Spencer off to school. Then it was home to make a birthday cake, get laundry going, clean house, play with the kids, and take a nap (essential for my pregnant body (ok, who am I kidding, essential for me at all times in life)). Cycle the laundry through, then lunch, then walk to get Spencer from school. We get home from school and jump in the car because I have pregnant brain, and didn't realize that we had no powdered sugar to make frosting for the cake. So, off to the store, home to cycle through more laundry, make frosting and decorate a cake. In the meantime, defrost chicken to marinade for dinner, cycle through yet more laundry (why do I do all the laundry on one day a week?) and try to keep the kids entertained.

And that is when it happens. . .my first contraction. . .and it is strong. I look at the clock: 4:15 PM. My thoughts: not today, not on Natalie's birthday, not when I have a birthday dinner to get on the table. This whole pregnancy I have said any day but Natalie's birthday. That is her special day. And then I have another contraction, only 3 minutes later. And it is strong too. And they don't stop coming. I realize that I am going to be having this little boy tonight, but dinner isn't even started yet and if I continue to have this strong of contractions it might take me a while to make. And the house still needs to be picked up. So I start getting things pulled together for dinner while the kids start picking up their toys. I only have about a minute in between contractions to do anything, so I am moving slowly.

By 5:30, I can't even talk during the contractions. But dinner still isn't ready (although the house is picked up, thanks kids!). I give Brett a call at work (yes, this is the first time I have called him since the contractions started), but he doesn't pick up. I wait until a contraction has passed and call him again. Still no answer. Luckily he calls between contractions. First thing he asks is if this is his reminder call to be home on time for Natalie's birthday dinner. I say yes, but he can sense the hesitation in my voice. He asks what's up and I tell him I am having pretty consistant contractions, trying to hide the pain, but then a contraction comes on and I have to hang up the phone. I call him after the contraction stops and he tells me to get ready to go to the hospital and he will be home in 15 minutes. I tell him I am not sure I will be ready to go, not sure if I am "really" in labor (although I am sure I am), because it has only been just over an hour. And besides, dinner still isn't ready. But I am to the point where I can't really get anything done between contractions, so I go upstairs to get things ready for the hospital (although let's be realistic, if I can't make dinner, am I really going to be able to get things together to go to the hospital?).

Brett and Grandpa Bruce walk in the door at the same time (luckily Bruce is in town, so no need to call a baby sitter in), but there is still Natalie's birthday to celebrate. I am in no condition, so I stay upstairs while Brett, Bruce and the other kids sing Happy Birthday to Natalie and watch her open presents. It was probably the quickest birthday celebration she will ever have, but she was content with it. Bruce finished making dinner and finished celebrating after we left.

At one point during the brief celebration, Spencer came up stairs to see how I was doing. He could see the pain on my face, even though I was doing everything I could to hide it from him, and asked me if I needed a hug. I accepted the hug and then sent him back down stairs to the celebration, if only to get him out of the room so he didn't see my pain.

We finally left the house around 6:15 PM to head to the Kaiser Irvine Hospital and Brett drove like a maniac the whole way. I had to remind him a number of times that if he got pulled over it would take even longer to get me to the hospital.

We got to the hospital just as Mom Higham and my sister Becky were getting there. They rushed us into a delivery room. As one nurse puts an IV in one arm, another nurse draws blood out of the other, while yet another nurse is asking questions regarding my pregnancy, and the midwife is checking to see my progression. The midwife tells me that I am dilated to an 8 and that within 30 minutes I should be welcoming my baby boy into the world. Brett, knowing my fear of going "natural" asks about an epidural and we are told that there isn't enough time. They need blood work results back before they can give me an epidural and those will take longer than we have. Panic. That is what I feel. "So what can be done for pain?" Brett asks. Nothing, the answer. There just isn't enough time. So I brace myself for the inevitable, but I had no idea what was coming.

When they finally have everything set up and ready to go they tell me I can push. I look at them with a blank stare. I have no clue what I am doing. Yes, this is my fifth child, but I had an epidural with the others and only pushed through a couple of contractions. And this all felt so different. So VERY different, and not in a good way. Thank goodness my mom was there to walk me through what to do. All the while I am watching the clock for that magical 30 minutes to come because the midwife had told me that is all that it would take. But that time comes and goes and I am tired from pushing. And I feel like I am making no progress whatsoever. I am frustrated and I just want to give up. They talk me into really concentrating on the next contraction and finally we have some progress.

And then . . . they take my midwife away. . . and give me a male doctor. With the next contraction the baby crowns, and oh my, ring of fire. I start crying, saying I can't do it, that it hurts too much (did I mention ring of fire?). The male doctor keeps telling me, "I know it hurts, but you have to push, I know it hurts" and all I can do is look at him and say, "YOU don't KNOW!" How could a male doctor know what I am going through (I was trying to be light hearted about it, but Brett says it didn't come out that way.) Somehow I was able to make it through two more contractions (Brett would tell you he saw a side of me he has never seen before and hopefully will never see again) and was able to push Hunter's head out. Then Brett was able to help deliver him the rest of the way. I look at the clock. 7:59pm. I had done it. Hunter was out and laying on my stomach. The pain was over. Relief.

Or so I thought. There was still the placenta to go. Which wasn't a huge deal. But then the doctor brings out a syringe and tells me that this is going to sting a little. . .and by a little, he meant a lot. And then there was some sewing (ok, only two little stitches, but they hurt like crazy) and some cleaning (does cleaning sound gentle? It's not!). Will the pain ever end? Finally it does and I am able to relax and enjoy Hunter.

SOMEHOW, I made it through that experience. But I told Brett, never again. The first sign of a contraction, I will be calling him up and it will be off to the hospital for an epidural, even if it is my child's birthday. We can always celebrate another day. . .