Introducing Everett Charles 2-11-11

It is pretty sad that it has taken me 3 weeks and 4 days to actually write out our birth story. I remember when I used to blog daily, or even multiple times a day. Oh well, "It is what it is." and this is the state of my life. I have mastered 1.5 minute showers and 7 minutes to do a good job on my hair and makeup, so you can guess how much time is left in my life for blogging. So many times I have had "blog birth story" on my daily to do list and every time something has overtaken it in. Even today, I thought I would have this done hours ago, and yet here I am multiple attempts later, DETERMINED to get this done before someone else needs me or its dinner time or the toilet is overflowing .

Early in the morning on Wednesday January 26, Jonathan and I got up and ready to go to the hospital. I had hardly slept the night before because I was so excited and nervous all wrapped into one bundle. Being induced is awesome because you can plan for it, but really weird too because if you have already had children you know what kind of pain is awaiting you. The anticipation of meeting my next child and dipping my toes into the underworld of pain went into head to head combat. Anyway, when the alarm finally went off it was sort of a relief..at least we could get this show on the road.

Everything went smoothly for about 20 minutes until we were just about to head out to the hospital and my mom (who had stayed the night to watch the kids for us) knocked on my bedroom door to tell me that Landon didn't feel well. I went into his room only to find him laying on the floor. He threw up shortly there after. I had to chuckle in my head. If you only knew how much sickness we have dealt with the past 3 months. My consolation through it all was that we were getting it all out of our systems before the baby came. Then the day the baby comes...Landon gets the stomach flu...again. Ah well...off to the hospital we went leaving him in very capable hands with my mama. I forgot to call his school though, so they called me at 9 to report him missing. I told her that I was in active labor and apologized for forgetting to call. We laughed about the fact that I was even talking on the phone at that point. Then  I promptly called Noah's school to tell them he wouldn't be there because I was in labor...his teacher and I laughed about that phone call later too.

I was dilated and thinned out enough that at 7:45 my doctor came in to break my water. No problems there and then we were off and running. Jonathan went to get something to eat quickly and I walked and walked and walked. Contractions were coming regularly every 3ish minutes and I could breathe through them so they weren't too bad. My sister got there around 10:30 (I think...it is a bit blurry) and the contractions started getting a tad worse. She had come to take pictures right after Everett was born, but she was keeping me company and keeping it light until things got into high gear. By 11, the contractions were finally to the point that I was NOT talking and NOT smiling and pretty much the only thing I could do was sit on the edge of the bed and move my feet back and forth against the wood floor. The hospital footie slippers had grippers on them, and I was trying to fixate on the feel of the grippers against the wood as I writhed in pain . Quickly thereafter, I asked for an epidural. I was going to try to do it without one, because with Noah the contractions were not that bad. But this was different...these were contractions like I had with Landon...INTENSE doesn't really do it justice. They checked me at 11:30 and I was a 5ish, it was actually then that I ordered the epidural I guess. They said I probably had four hours of hard labor to go  and I didn't feel like I could do this for 4 more hours. By noon, I asked the wonderful nurse in no uncertain terms WHERE THE ANESTESIOLOGIST WAS!?!?! She assured me he was coming, and so I sent my sister out for the epidural and told her she could come back when it was in. But then, suddenly I felt like I had to push. I said to my wonderful nurse, "I think I have to push!" To which I thought she replied, "Oh SH**." She sort of jumped and said it, like she totally didn't expect that. I was in such a delirium of pain, that quite contrary to my character I replied, "Oh Sh** is right, or Shoot...or Sh**!" I didn't even know what to say, I just knew that I felt like my body was being ripped apart and now I had this unbelievable pressure bomb about to explode. It was at that moment the anesthesiologist showed up. The nurse pushed him out, said we didn't need him, the doctor rushed in, checked me...sure enough, I was a 10 and the baby was RIGHT there. My poor sister...she thought she was missing the epidural, but in fact she was missing the birth  so much for four hours...more like 40 minutes . So I had about 1.5 hours of intense labor, and I got to join the natural childbirth club .

Now, I pride myself on being a person who is in control. I don't typically wear my emotions on my sleeve and while I haven't audibly made fun of women who scream in labor, I have kind of thought less of them in my head. Apparently, God thought it would be a good time to put me in my place, because I am telling you...I lost all sorts of control. I mean, I wasn't cursing or swearing and I was focused enough to push my brains out...but while I pushed...I totally screamed and sort of growled . In fact, I am quite sure people on the north side of town could hear me. I am still embarrassed...and in between contractions and pushing, I was profusely apologizing to my doctor and nurse and Jonathan for screaming...only to do it again seconds later. I am telling you...natural childbirth is intense. And I think it varies with each baby. It would have been easier with Noah...his contractions and labor were not this intense. But I did it with Everett. I thought I was dying...I even told the doctor I was dying. She assured me that I wasn't dying, and it was then that a rationale thought made it through my head...the harder I push the sooner this will end. So I pushed with EVERYTHING in me, and I think it only lasted ten minutes. Longest ten minutes of my life. At 12:21 my eyes first met those of our third son, all 8 pounds 8 ounces of him. The doctor joked that the Baby Story music should start playing any minute 

We knew instantly that he was a laid back sort of guy. He cried for a moment and then just looked around with the most curious of expressions on his adorable face...and the forehead wrinkles. This kid has the most amazing forehead wrinkles I have ever seen...they are my favorite part of him...and he shows them off every day, still. And he immediately just fit, like a puzzle piece that was missing and Someone found it and placed it within the tapestry of our life and family.

We struggled to name this little guy. I liked the name Silas, but Jonathan and Landon hated it. Jon liked Henry and we both kind of liked Charlie and Samuel and Jack. But in the end, none of those fit. The only name we both kind of liked and that fit...was Everett. His middle name is Charles, after Jon's grandpa who is a great man of God with a beautiful sense of humor and a life that speaks to a legacy that means something.

I was only able to stay in the hospital for 24 hours due to insurance stuff, and I couldn't bring the newborn home to a house filled with gastroenteritis. So our neighbors (and very close friends) let me and Everett stay with them for two nights. As soon as the Landon was better and we knew Noah wasn't going to get it, we came home. The boys LOVE their baby brother. Landon is absolutely enamored with him...proud of him...in love with him. He held him for three hours straight the first night they were together. He fed him his first bottle when Everett was three weeks old. He read him every Dr. Suess book in his library. Let me tell you, Landon LOVES Everett. Noah loves him too, but Noah is a spit fire. He has not intentionally hurt Everett, but Noah just isn't very cautious and we need to watch him a little closer when he is near the baby. He likes to hold him and "pet" him all of them time. Both boys are wonderful helpers.

And there you have it. Everett is now three weeks and four days old. I am cherishing every moment I can with him. He is already changing and growing, as he should. But in some ways it makes my heart sad that the days and weeks pass as quickly as they do. I try to be purposeful in snatching memories with him...drinking in the scent of newborn, memorizing the feel of his tiny body against my own, listening to the tiny puffs of air as he breathes in and out, dressing him in outfits that make him look tiny, cherishing the quiet of middle of the night feedings. I know how fast this all goes, and while I am so excited to see who he will become and what he will bring to this family, I cherish the boy that he is now in all of his tiny-ness.

We thank God for the miracle that is Everett. We think we know best and that we should be able to control when we have children and how we have children and what they should be like. But this whole process just proves that stuff is best left in the hands of God. I don't take for granted the gift that He has given us in our son. "We praise [Him], for [Everett] is fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14)."