Blogging is getting the backseat lately. I don't like it, but it's true.
Last Saturday was my second born's birthday and I really wanted to blog about his birth day but didn't get it done. So I'm going to do it in a belated time warp.
Last February I wrote about losing my second pregnancy here. Today's story is a follow up to that one.
Not too long after I lost the baby in the second pregnancy we got pregnant again. Probably too soon. There are a few reasons that I didn't know that this wasn't a good idea but I won't need to share all of that information. But I did conceive again in the spring with a December due date on the horizon. To say that I was thrilled would be an understatement. It was truly a gift of God. A blessing.
The truth is, though, that this new pregnancy was rough. It didn't feel the same as my first one. I didn't gain much weight. In fact, I think I only gained about 10 pounds which is pretty incredible for me. I can do that by looking at a plate of potatoes and gravy usually.
That summer I worried a bit that things might not go well for me again. I remember having some spotting and thinking, 'oh, no, here we go again'. But all was well. That summer here in Kansas we had an incredible hail storm. It pretty much pelted away at our metal encased trailer house in which we had lived for a few years. So we did what you can only do in rural Kansas and we took the insurance money that we received from the storm and bought a house in the fall of 1987. And trust me, it was not that much money. But we got a great big wonderful house in a town 5 miles away from our farm.
We were set to move in at the end of November and we did. My parents came to help us move and were here 2 weeks I think. The first week we were in the house we had hunting clients for our pheasant hunting business so I was hosting a group of men for dinners while they were here. Plus, I was almost 9 months pregnant. Then my cousin and his wife and two toddlers came to visit to help with another hunting group so we had more company in our "new" home. It was fun and we laughed until I thought I would give birth right there on the kitchen floor one evening while we sat around the table talking.
Finally, we were home alone in our new home. On December 10th I had a haircut appointment in a nearby town. I took my almost 3 year old son and my mother-in -law with me and we had a fun time shopping and eating lunch at Hardees. When I started to fix supper that night I felt as though I shouldn't eat anything so I didn't. I made spaghetti and we decorated our Christmas tree. I was having contractions but nothing too serious. In the night they continued so we went to the hospital. I had contractions steadily until about 3 a.m. Then they stopped.
The nurses told me to walk around the hospital to get them going again so I walked for the rest of the night. But nothing. My wonderful, small town doctor showed up around 7 a.m. and said "what do you want to do?"
I had had to be induced after more than 25 hours of labor with my first son and it still took another 5 hours to give birth to him. So I, in my sleep deprived exhaustion said, "induce me". And he did.
He started me at 8 o'clock and I figured that it would be quick and efficient. Let's just say there was LOT of pain. Pain that was beyond description. As a side note, my doctor had a resident who was shadowing him at that time and they were in and out of my room talking sports and other mundane things while they checked on me. At one point they came in the labor room and my doc looked at me and said, "you are not in enough pain. I'm turning up the pitocin." They did and then they left me to die. Uh, I mean to continue to labor.
Keep in mind you young ones, that I had a doctor who did not believe in using epidurals and it was not widely used at that time here. So this was all "au natural" in the truest sense of the phrase.
Lo, about ten minutes to two on that same afternoon, December 11, 1987, a child was born. A son. I remember looking at him and seeing that his eyes seemed to look purple they were so dark. And then I kind of slipped into exhaustion. He was here and he was safe. We didn't have a name for him because we were thinking it might be a girl. Whitney Nicole. Well, we were not going to do that to him! So after a brief discussion we named him Adam Daniel.
Later that day a young teenager from our church dropped by the hospital to see me on his way home from school. We had done some activities with the tiny little youth group in our church and he had heard that I had had our baby. He came into my room, looked at me and said, "You look like you died."
I thanked him for that.
So THAT is the story of my second son's birth in a brief blog. The last 23 years have been quite a ride of ups and downs but I wouldn't trade them for anything.
I love you Adam!
|Such a fun kid!|
|One of my favorite pictures of him.|
|All dressed up like a little prep.|
|The cake he could hardly wait to |
|My little artist always.|