Isla Sparrow
My littlest finally arrived. And how silly I feel when I look back at my last post the night before I went in to have her. I was overcome by so many conflicting and dramatic emotions and thoughts that I turned into a really unpleasant person. Part of me regrets posting that whining, scared little baby post about being sad, scared, angry and in love
*I need to take a moment to note that I have been working on this post for 4 days now, 20 days late. Not because I want to make it something perfected (perfected, HA, I can't make complete sentences lately, let alone a well put together blog post) but because I have a newborn and a toddler. Which means the amount of time I have to myself is chiseled down to a couple of hours a day. And those hours are spent taking a shower and laying on an unmade bed wondering how the heck I'm going to manage to get laundry caught up with a perpetually peeing toddler and a newborn that spits up like a sprinkler.
My littlest baby was born January 3, 2013 at 4:59pm. And would you believe that my labor and delivery lasted about 7-8 hours? That's almost 20 hours less than last time.
Thank. God.
I mean literally, seriously. Thank God. I prayed so many prayers for that. I had many people telling me they were doing the same and it was answered. After Isla was delivered and held long enough for the realization that I'M ACTUALLY HOLDING HER to kick in, I remember asking several nurses, "Is that how it's supposed to go?? Is it supposed to be that easy??"
Now I'm teetering on the verge of pissing off a lot of other moms. I'm only dwelling on this because my first was anything but. However, before we were released from the hospital there was a short time where everything became uncertain and scary. But right now I'll retell the anticipated and predictable.
I went in to be induced that morning partly feeling like I was going to the airport for an early morning vacation and partly feeling like I was going in for an appointment to have some teeth voluntarily removed. We had breakfast, arrived at the hospital making jokes about the hospital gown's boob pocket and posed for last opportunity belly pictures.
About an hour and a half later I was induced and promptly started walking the halls like a mental patient. Weed whacker hair and all. (I was so confused at how I got my hair into a ponytail and managed to make it look that terrible).
After a while it was harder to walk and talk so we headed back to the room where I thought I would rest until I took up walking again. The contractions started coming much more intensely and frequently, unlike my last experience with Bella, so it was unexpected. I ended up getting an epidural shortly after getting back to the room and the epidural wasn't nearly as unpleasant as it was the last time. (Last time when the guy put in the epidural he did something wrong because a shock went down my back and left me with an icy feeling.
'Fantastic. Now I'm paralyzed.'
Luckily I wasn't, but it was still pretty effing scary.) The epidural this time was magical. Sent from the Lord.
I have to take at least a paragraph to pay HUGE props to our nurse, Becky. She was absolutely perfect. She was so sweet, so sincere and so personable. We laughed about everything every time she came into the room and made me feel like she was a family member there to help me get a baby out. I love Becky.
On that note, I also have to build a statue to my doctor, Dr. Samantha Durland.
She. Is. Freaking. Amazing. She is the best doctor I've ever known and such a wonderful person. When she left the room after congratulating me on a successful delivery and beautiful baby I teared up realizing I wouldn't be seeing her again (not nearly as often, at least.) And I promise it wasn't (just) hormones. Every time after seeing her I left feeling so good about myself, my pregnancy and my ability to do anything. I could really take this too far, if I haven't already, but I loved her. I will truly miss seeing her regularly and am so immensely thankful to her.
Those two together on my team were phenomenal.
Before this turns into a love letter, I'll quickly summarize the last bit of Isla's arrival. Several hours went by after the epidural and eventually the time came when Becky told me it was time to practice pushing. She helped pull my leg back to my chest and quickly said, "Oh. Nevermind. I'll go get Dr. Durland". I waited for something more because I didn't know what that meant. I must have asked because she said, "She's right there and we need to start pushing!" Hooooly crap.
Dr Durland came in with her usual ball of righteous energy and in a few pushes handed me Isla, eyes scrunched shut and limbs spread out grasping for anything familiar.
My very first thought when I saw her was, 'Oh my goodness, it's Bella!'. They looked identical in their first couple of weeks in the world, especially in those first days.
Isla is a remarkable little baby. She's so content; only cries when something is needed. She loves to meet your gaze and take everything in. She will look into my eyes and study my face for as long as I can look into hers. The things we could be saying to each other are endless and beautiful.
When she's awake she's so alert. After they put the medication on her eyes she spent the next couple of hours awake taking everything in.
The nurse said it looked like she's been here before, the way she looks at everything. And I've lost track of how many times people have commented on how alert she is. Her eyes are so deep and so blue - the kind of pools of depth you feel you can see dreams in. Ok, I am her mother so that happens to me. But for real. She's a special little lady.
Our short and easy trip through the labor and delivery wing at the hospital had an unexpected bump when the pediatrician came to our room with the words, "Well, a lot has happened in the past hour..." making us aware of some concerns she had with our new baby.
This isn't at all to be dramatic, I promise, but I'm making the next part of Isla's story a separate post so that I don't feel like this is so terribly lengthy. I need to get to bed at a decent hour tonight and before I do that, I need to kiss my baby girls one more time. My babies. I'm in the place in my life that I pretended to be in as a child.
I'm overflowing pride, gratefulness and love and wish I could share it adequately. A blog post will have to do.
(all at once).
But then I remind myself why I decided to push myself over the edge and click "Publish" that night. It's the reason I've mentioned many times - I need to see more realness and honesty in motherhood. And my sharing those unsanitized and half way thought through emotions are my best way at attempting that.
*I need to take a moment to note that I have been working on this post for 4 days now, 20 days late. Not because I want to make it something perfected (perfected, HA, I can't make complete sentences lately, let alone a well put together blog post) but because I have a newborn and a toddler. Which means the amount of time I have to myself is chiseled down to a couple of hours a day. And those hours are spent taking a shower and laying on an unmade bed wondering how the heck I'm going to manage to get laundry caught up with a perpetually peeing toddler and a newborn that spits up like a sprinkler.
My littlest baby was born January 3, 2013 at 4:59pm. And would you believe that my labor and delivery lasted about 7-8 hours? That's almost 20 hours less than last time.
I mean literally, seriously. Thank God. I prayed so many prayers for that. I had many people telling me they were doing the same and it was answered. After Isla was delivered and held long enough for the realization that I'M ACTUALLY HOLDING HER to kick in, I remember asking several nurses, "Is that how it's supposed to go?? Is it supposed to be that easy??"
Now I'm teetering on the verge of pissing off a lot of other moms. I'm only dwelling on this because my first was anything but. However, before we were released from the hospital there was a short time where everything became uncertain and scary. But right now I'll retell the anticipated and predictable.
I went in to be induced that morning partly feeling like I was going to the airport for an early morning vacation and partly feeling like I was going in for an appointment to have some teeth voluntarily removed. We had breakfast, arrived at the hospital making jokes about the hospital gown's boob pocket and posed for last opportunity belly pictures.
 |
| Like this... |
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| and this. You know, per usual. |
About an hour and a half later I was induced and promptly started walking the halls like a mental patient. Weed whacker hair and all. (I was so confused at how I got my hair into a ponytail and managed to make it look that terrible).
After a while it was harder to walk and talk so we headed back to the room where I thought I would rest until I took up walking again. The contractions started coming much more intensely and frequently, unlike my last experience with Bella, so it was unexpected. I ended up getting an epidural shortly after getting back to the room and the epidural wasn't nearly as unpleasant as it was the last time. (Last time when the guy put in the epidural he did something wrong because a shock went down my back and left me with an icy feeling.
'Fantastic. Now I'm paralyzed.'
Luckily I wasn't, but it was still pretty effing scary.) The epidural this time was magical. Sent from the Lord.
I have to take at least a paragraph to pay HUGE props to our nurse, Becky. She was absolutely perfect. She was so sweet, so sincere and so personable. We laughed about everything every time she came into the room and made me feel like she was a family member there to help me get a baby out. I love Becky.
On that note, I also have to build a statue to my doctor, Dr. Samantha Durland.
She. Is. Freaking. Amazing. She is the best doctor I've ever known and such a wonderful person. When she left the room after congratulating me on a successful delivery and beautiful baby I teared up realizing I wouldn't be seeing her again (not nearly as often, at least.) And I promise it wasn't (just) hormones. Every time after seeing her I left feeling so good about myself, my pregnancy and my ability to do anything. I could really take this too far, if I haven't already, but I loved her. I will truly miss seeing her regularly and am so immensely thankful to her.
Those two together on my team were phenomenal.
Before this turns into a love letter, I'll quickly summarize the last bit of Isla's arrival. Several hours went by after the epidural and eventually the time came when Becky told me it was time to practice pushing. She helped pull my leg back to my chest and quickly said, "Oh. Nevermind. I'll go get Dr. Durland". I waited for something more because I didn't know what that meant. I must have asked because she said, "She's right there and we need to start pushing!" Hooooly crap.
Dr Durland came in with her usual ball of righteous energy and in a few pushes handed me Isla, eyes scrunched shut and limbs spread out grasping for anything familiar.
My very first thought when I saw her was, 'Oh my goodness, it's Bella!'. They looked identical in their first couple of weeks in the world, especially in those first days.
 |
| Bella on the left. Isla on the right. |
Isla is a remarkable little baby. She's so content; only cries when something is needed. She loves to meet your gaze and take everything in. She will look into my eyes and study my face for as long as I can look into hers. The things we could be saying to each other are endless and beautiful.
When she's awake she's so alert. After they put the medication on her eyes she spent the next couple of hours awake taking everything in.
The nurse said it looked like she's been here before, the way she looks at everything. And I've lost track of how many times people have commented on how alert she is. Her eyes are so deep and so blue - the kind of pools of depth you feel you can see dreams in. Ok, I am her mother so that happens to me. But for real. She's a special little lady.
'We have another little baby on the way also. Little Isla Sparrow, who I can only imagine to know. Getting to know Bella has made me realize how complicated these little people are. They're brand new to the world as a blank canvas that we have no business marring with our own brushes. My Isla Sparrow - who will you be?'
Our short and easy trip through the labor and delivery wing at the hospital had an unexpected bump when the pediatrician came to our room with the words, "Well, a lot has happened in the past hour..." making us aware of some concerns she had with our new baby.
This isn't at all to be dramatic, I promise, but I'm making the next part of Isla's story a separate post so that I don't feel like this is so terribly lengthy. I need to get to bed at a decent hour tonight and before I do that, I need to kiss my baby girls one more time. My babies. I'm in the place in my life that I pretended to be in as a child.
I'm overflowing pride, gratefulness and love and wish I could share it adequately. A blog post will have to do.
