My Son, Ricky Bobby

Ok, so I know I said that the next post to come was going to be Part II of this post, but I just came across these pictures on my camera and felt inspired to get them posted...

Everytime I watch Levi poke himself in his eye, flail about uncontrollably, or pull his treasured pacifier out of his mouth while glaring at his hands as if he's ticked that they're working against him, I can't help but think how frustrating it may be to have no control over one's own limbs. I also can't help but think of this scene from Talladega Nights...

The Birth Story Part I: Waiting

It's fairly obviously that I've let my blog fall to the wayside these past few months, but it certainly hasn't been for a lack of exciting news. While there are many different happenings and stories and whims that I could and should have been writing about, the bulk of it all can really be summed up in one picture:

I can hardly believe a whole month has passed since Levi came into this world and changed everything that I knew. I've spent the past month falling more and more in love with him every day, and learning bit by bit how to fill this new role of mine. Time as flown by, leaving me frantically grasping at each little moment in hopes of hanging on and savoring it all just a little bit longer. In the midst of it all, I realize I haven't even stopped to write down the details of Levi's birth, or the days leading up to it.

Given that it's been a whole month, I realize that most of the people that read this blog have already heard all the details. However, I still see a need in writing it down here so that when I do get around to scrapbooking the thousands of pictures I have filling up my memory card, I might actually remember a bit or two.

SO, with that said, let's venture back to June 29, 2010. I woke up to my due date with high hopes of having a little baby boy. I had been contracting for several weeks, I had nested until I could nest no more, I had begun my maternity leave, and I was ready. I showed up at my 40-week appointment, certain that the doctor would take one look at my contractions and insist that I rush to the hospital to have this baby. Much to my dismay, the doctor instead told me that I was only 2 cm dilated and showed no indications of imminent labor. He performed that awful procedure so delicately named "stripping the membranes" (the 3rd time I had had this done that month), and sent me on my merry way.

I was a bit disappointed at the lack of news, but optimistic that this baby would make his appearance any day.

Then the next day came and went.

And the next.

And the next.

Seven contraction-filled days passed with no baby, and before I knew it I found myself at my 41-week appointment. The doctor took a look around and declared enthusiastically that I was now 2 1/2 cm dialated.

Are you kidding me!?!? Another full week of constant contractions and all I could muster was 1/2 cm!?!?! I tried to feign that glowing, pregnant lady demeanor of joy while the doctor performed that fantastic little procedure for a 4th time. Just to make sure all was good and well, they then hooked me up to the monitors for a while before sending me home. The monitors revealed what I had known for several weeks: I was having very regular contractions, some of them significant in strength. The doctor assured us that he had high hopes I would go into labor naturally within a day or so, but also scheduled an induction for that following Friday just in case.

My contractions continued to get stronger throughout that day, and were a steady 6 minutes apart by evening. After a few hours of that, we called our afterhours nurse to check-in. She encouraged us to go ahead and head to the hospital with our bags packed. Excited beyond belief, we happily took her advice and rushed out the door.

Once at the hospital, we checked into the triage area and got all hooked up to the monitors again. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. Things were not progessing. At all. Just the same old boring contractions. Finally, our nurse came in and told us that they would need to send me home. She gave me a prescription of pain medicine and Ambien to help me sleep through the contractions and sent us on our way. To say we were disappointed would be an understatement. The drive home felt much longer than the drive there had.

So another day passed and still no baby, which brought us to Thursday, July 8th. This was my 10th day overdue, and the day we were scheduled to check-in for our induction. The original plan was to check-in on Thursday night, get settled and get some rest, and start the induction Friday morning. However, Levi had a plan of his own that didn't quite follow suit...

Next post to come- The Birth Story Part II: Time Flies By