Jami Did It!

A couple days ago, my friend, Jami, posted her memories of the day before her son was born.  Since Sunshine's birthday is tomorrow, I'm totally copying Jami.

Here I am in all my 40 weeks pregnant glory.  For those of you without children, I'll give you a minute or two to collect yourselves.  40 weeks pregnant is no joke, kids.  You're huge.  You're uncomfortable.  Idiots Well-meaning strangers keep asking "when are you due?" & "are you sure???? 'Cuz yer yooooge!"  You can't sleep, your legs feel like sand bags when your 1 year old dog wants to go for their daily mile long walk.  I haven't even mentioned the 37 lb weight gain.  Or *whispers*  stretch marks.

So, eight years ago I was 40 weeks pregnant with Sunshine.  My due date was originally given as 4/6/04 but somehow, through the genius of obstetric math, it was bumped up one whole day to 4/7/04.  Whatever.  I was massive.  Luckily it was all around my middle as my wrists, hands, feet, legs never got swollen.  That's okay, there was enough going on around my midsection that you didn't even think to look at my extremities.

Somewhere around 37 weeks gestation, my OB decided to schedule an ultrasound to determine how big this baby was.  Ultrasounds aren't exact science when it comes to this sort of thing.  Had I been smart, I would have picked a date on the calendar, scheduled a C-section & wallah--instant birthday!

But no,  first time mom decides to let nature take it's course.  More on that later.

So, the ultrasound shows a big baby.  She measures full term.  The weight guesstimate is around 9 lbs, but please note it can be off by a couple pounds so we're told that she's anywhere between 7 & 9 lbs.   Remember that 9 lbs.  And do some obstetric math.  37 wks + 9 lbs baby + usual 1/2 - 1 lbs weight gain/week in the last month.  Put your hands down--I'll call on you later.

SO, April 5th 2004.  I'm huge.  My doctor has decided that we're going to induce on the 6th.  Fine, whatever.  While I'm enjoying being pregnant, the party is over & I want to go home.  I want to meet this little person (or not so little) who has been kicking me, hiccuping & rolling over so that my stomach looks like that scene in Alien where the thing comes out of the guy's stomach.

Like Jami, I went to Atlanta Bread Company for lunch with Hunter the day before Sunshine was born.  Unlike Jami, I didn't have a pumpkin muffin.  Although they do have yummy ones.  I had the cuban sandwich. And a pickle. And chips.  Afterward we walked.  And we walked.  And we walked.  We walked the length of Columbus Park Crossing & back.  For someone whose legs felt like sandbags, I sure did a good bit of walking that day.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful but I was stressed out.  It was a day ending in "y", of course I was stressed.  Despite the fact that I was being induced, we still had to call the hospital the next morning to make sure there would be a bed for me (Ft. Benning was at the beginning of a baby boom as there were record numbers of 3ID wives pregnant courtesy of OIF).  We went to bed reasonably early only to be woken up at 4 am when my water broke.

We called the hospital & were told to get in there ASAP.  Which means Hunter took a shower first & then we started heading in to post.

I'm not going to bore you with the minutiae of the next 17 hours.  Yes, I said 17 hours.  I had a 17 hour labor.   That stalled.  Stopped.  Ceased to progress.  Birth plan?  We don't need no stinkin' birth plan.  Which is why I always tell very pregnant women that IF things don't go as they planned during labor, GO WITH IT.  It doesn't matter if you have the birth of your dreams.  What matters is that you & your baby are healthy & fine. Birth plan--HA!

Now, those of you who had your hands raised on the math question.  Any guesses on what a baby who was weighing in at 7-9 lbs at 37 weeks will weigh at birth?  Those of you who guessed 10 lbs 11 oz would be correct.  Bonus points if you said she was 22" long.  Apparently I took the phrase "go big or go home" a little too serious.

But, all that mattered was that our sweet baby girl was with us.  And she was healthy.  And perfect.  And ours.

So, here I sit, 8 years later with my darling girl.  We've been enjoying Spring Break this week & she is beside herself with anticipation over tomorrow.  8 is a big birthday.  It's the fringe of tween-dom, or so she tells me.  Today at lunch (no, we didn't go to Atlanta Bread.) she asked me if turning 8 meant she had to give up imaging things.  I told her that Mommy still imagines things.  It's not something you have to give up.

And we went for a mani/pedi, just like I did 8 years ago.  Only today the ladies were commenting on Sunshine in her pretty dress w/ matching accessories.  No one told me that I was wrong---that there were twins in there.  And that I'd be back telling them they were right.

I never did go back to that nail salon to tell them they were wrong.  I wonder what the statute of limitations is???