Allison has me inspired to start a blog. I am doing this for no other reason than I just don't want to forget the wonderful, small moments. I was thinking about Piper's birth and realized that I am losing it. Parts are fading of that wonderful day.
So here goes. For the record, here is how you entered the world, PJ:
Monday, June 7
I was at work until noon. I had a meeting, the last thing to check off my list before your arrival. I told Jill and Claire I had a feeling you would be born on this day. An induction had been scheduled for Wednesday the 9th, and I was praying you would come before that day. I wasn't really nervous to be induced (but looking back at labor, I should have been!). Instead I was just so anxious for this nine month journey to end. Curious to see what you looked like, who you would be. Also ready for the swelling to finally halt and subside. You can thank Grandma for that, as I'm sure you are destined for it as well, dear PJ. I had what I felt like would probably be contractions-just a few, probably an hour apart. I called your Dad. I told him that I thought my labor might be starting, but asked him not to act and to let me drive myself home. Probably shouldn't have told him. He kind of freaked and called his parents. I calmed him down over the phone and proceeded with my meeting and trip home to Norman from the city. Grandma and Grandpa had just rolled into town when I got home. Dad got off work later and we all went out to Tarahumara's for some Mexican deliciousness. I had several more contractions, which I blamed on the spicy salsa. I was really excited and asked for a serving to bring home. Dad and I crawled into bed that night, blissfully unaware that it was our last night as a family of two.
June 8
I woke at six in the morning, cramping. I stayed quiet, letting Dad slumber. I breathed, timed, smiled. 5 minutes apart. This was the moment we had been waiting for. After half an hour, I woke Dad and told him the news. He was awake and dressed at olympic record speed (for normal Lee time). I asked him to slow down, knowing that it was not really "time." I freshened up (although you cannot tell from the pictures taken this day). The contractions were getting stronger. We grabbed our bags and headed out. Grandpa was up and we told him we were headed to the hospital. I was very concerned that no one freak out, as I was sure we would be sent home and that this wasn't really it.
Dad and I arrived at the Norman Health Plex at around 7:30 am. They checked me: only dilated to a 2, but 90% effaced. This will be unimportant to you and probably most reading this, but after nine months of studying these terms, this was amazing news. Dad channel surfed as they hooked me up to some monitors. He landed on a ballet on PBS, Dad is always looking out for me, trying to make me comfortable and happy. Ballet on TV wasn't doing it for me this time. They asked us to leave for an hour and walk. Dad took me to Sonic first (he was hungry). I vividly remember having to get out of Dad's Explorer and pace through the contractions. A carhop asked us if we were ok. I did not feel that we were. But I also had a teeny bit of rationality left. Dad took me to the pond in Aunt Kim's neighborhood. We walked, and walked. We would stop and I would cry. We would walk on.
We waddled back into the hospital around 10. I was still just dilated to a 2, but now 100% effaced. The nurse was an angel, Piper, she convinced the doctor to let us stay. We were admitted and Doctor Chambers broke my water at 10:30 am. Ouch.
Statol was administered through my IV and I felt less pain but more crazy. Momma was trying to remain lighthearted and joke with the nurses. It worked for a little while. I was checked again, and had progressed to a 4! Epidural time. This part really scared me, but all I remember of this was the relief. Dad and I laid back and watched the contractions, smiling. The nurse started Pitocin, to help get the show on the road, now that I was no longer in pain. By 4 pm, I had progressed all the way to a 10. In the meantime, several friends and family members were in and out checking on us...Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, Pop, Kim, Allison, Kerri, Holli. Sarah stayed with Dad and I the whole time. She held my hand. Dad held it too. Sarah took pictures, for which I will forever be greatful.
4 PM
Time to push. I was surprised when the nurse asked me to start pushing. I thought it would be the doctor who I did this part with, but honestly, I was relieved. The nurse we had was amazing, so encouraging and comforting. She kept asking me if this was my first delivery, because it was all happening so quickly. I remember feeling thankful. We pushed for about ten minutes before she asked me to stop so that she could get the doctor. Doctor Lashbrook came in and I pushed a few more times. These next few moments play in slow motion in my memory. The last few pushes. Your gurgling cry. Seeing you. Not caring that you were covered in goo. Crying. Seeing Dad crying. The rush of family and friends to our sides.
The next few days are a blur to me. So many people came. The Boyds brought us dinner. It was sweet to hear baby Sean utter your name. Christa cried, Allison snuggled you. Kerri and Gracie made us a sweet sign. So did Millie. Nana got us flowers. The Balls brought us dinner the next night. There were so many sweet nurses. You did so great in the nursery. They had to wash your hair multiple times because people couldn't resist from touching it. I hardly slept, because it was all too exciting. I would be laying in the moonlight in my hospital bed thinking about you, thinking about Dad, about our adventure ahead.
You are so amazing Piper Jae. We have waited all our lives for you. Nine precious months came to an end on June 8, 2010. I have been realizing that I have a problem waiting. Patience is indeed something I need to work on. From the moment I found out I was pregnant with you, I wanted you here. Now you are. We had many special moments from October to June, PJ. We named you, I felt you, I loved you. I wish I would have enjoyed it more, instead of always wishing for the end. No more though, as I'm going to spend my next 70 years loving you in the here and now. This story is an ode to the past. You are now our present.
