In The Blink of an Eye, She's Eighteen

 Yes, my little "Blueberry Eyes" - the girl, not the blog - is eighteen years old today. 

How can that be? How can it be 18 years since I took this tiny little human home? 

On her third birthday I wrote the post "Guilt" that later became one of the stories included in Gifts: Mothers Reflect on How Children With Down Syndrome Enrich Their Lives. 

As her birthday was approaching I've thought about that post, and her birth day, and how I felt and handled the realization that she was born with Down syndrome. In that post I said that I hoped writing it all down would lead me on a path to healing and forgiveness. All these years later I finally realize that I have nothing to forgive myself for. 

Do I wish that I hadn't zeroed in on her face in those first moments of her birth and hadn't seen "DOWN SYNDROME" flashing at me in bright lights? Of course. 

Do I wish I was as oblivious about the signs of Down syndrome as my husband was and all I could see was this little human being we had created - our first child, my daughter? Of course. 

Do I wish that one of the very first things I said to my mom as I basically thrust Kayla into her arms before she could get a good look at her wasn't "They think she has Down syndrome?" Of course. 

Do I wish that I was crying tears of joy and happiness instead of sobbing alone over the sink hoping no one would see me like that? Of course. 

But all of that happened naturally and organically and they were the thoughts and feelings I had at that time in those moments - and I don't need to forgive myself for that. 

What matters more than those first few moments of shock I had upon seeing her face and feeling an out of body experience is what came after. What followed in the 18 years since has been love. So much love. Like with raising any child, as I've always said, comes joys and challenges and raising Kayla hasn't been any different. There has been so much love, joy, and adventure in our life with Kayla. I had a chance to get to know her - the person, not the diagnosis.

Kayla loves big. Feels big. Laughs big. Lives big. She loves family and the connectedness of the extended family and having aunts/uncles/cousins. When we went to my grandmother's funeral she greeted everyone as if she had known them for years - even if she probably didn't really remember some of them because she was so young the last time she saw them; and even the ones she had never met before. "Kayla this is your great-great-uncle so-and-so." Kayla, "Oh! Hi Uncle!" followed by her signature big hug.

She finds joy in all of the little things. She's just as excited for your birthday as she is for her own. She's full of life and she loves to experience life. Kayla is outgoing and so social. She's got the biggest heart, has the kindest of souls, the biggest of smiles, and can be the most awesome-est of friends - and I wish more people would see that and appreciate that about her. She can still light up a room with her energy and personality. 

She has confidence in herself that I wish I had. She doesn't care how others might see or judge her - she just goes out and does her thing. 

She still loves coloring - she can sit and color those adult coloring books for hours! Other hobbies are still dancing/singing (Hamilton soundtrack on repeat!), being involved with Summerville Miracle League baseball (as a player and a volunteer and Junior Board Member), Special Olympics golf and track and field, and her favorite: archery. 

I so enjoy watching Red Sox baseball with her and how enthusiastic she gets. I love that she knows the players. "Come on JD!" "Yes Bogaerts!" "Devers got a home run!" 

So. Eighteen. Adulthood. While the concept of adulthood, independence, and her future still scares me in some ways, I'm not going to dwell on it in this birthday post! She still has one more year of school to go (she repeated Kindergarten). Her future is bright; a lot brighter than I probably thought it would be in that delivery room. 

She is happy. She is loved. She is amazing.
She really is. 

Happy 18th birthday, Kayla!

J is for Just Accept

After my dad passed away I went through his computer to find photos for the slideshow at his service. I found two videos he took while visiting us in SC. I didn't know he had taken videos while Kayla was in the jump castle, but I'm glad I found them because in the videos he is calling out for Kayla, again and again. It's not much, but it's his voice and I only have a handful of videos of my dad.



Kayla was born in NM and my dad lived in FL. A few hours after she was born I called to tell him the news.

I didn't know how, or when, to tell him about the Down syndrome diagnosis. He already had a plane ticket bought for shortly after my due date so he would be visiting us within a couple of weeks. I didn't want to wait though, I felt like I needed to get it over with.

After the exclamations of a new granddaughter, and the details surrounding her birth, her name and stats and congratulations, I told him. I don't remember exactly how; I think I just said she had Down syndrome, or they thought she had Down syndrome.

It wasn't confirmed yet because they still had to do a blood test, but I knew; I knew by just looking at her.

His response wasn't what I expected. I remember him asking what that meant. In my head I was saying, "What do you mean what does that mean? She has Down syndrome! I don't know what that means, but it's Down syndrome!" Of course I didn't say that to him. I think I managed to say, "I don't know, it's Down syndrome, you know, like Corky from that show we used to watch Life Goes On."

His response was, "Ok, so?"

After giving birth your emotions are all over the place, like a roller coaster. Again, in my mind I felt frustrated with his lack of reaction to this news, with his nonchalance. Why wasn't he upset, or shocked, or I don't know, mourning? This was sad news wasn't it? Getting a diagnosis of Down syndrome is bad news isn't it? Shouldn't he be saying something else?

What he asked me was, "She's ok isn't she? She's healthy?"

Me, "Well yeah, I guess so." Me, inside my head, "But I'm taking home a daughter with Down syndrome! It wasn't supposed to work this way."

He didn't linger on this fact, he brought the conversation back around to his visit. He was so excited and couldn't wait to see her, and hold her. I could hear the smile in his voice as he talked about Kayla. As he talked about his firstborn just giving birth to her firstborn. I could tell his smile was from ear to ear. He was already a proud grandfather.

He teared up the first time he held her. 

As far as I knew he was never upset over Kayla's diagnosis (unless he hid it from me and didn't want me to know.). He never got upset or cried over the grandchild he thought he was going to have, he never had to 'come to grips' with this news ... because he just accepted it. He accepted it as readily and easily as he just accepted when I told him I had just given birth to a daughter (we didn't know the gender until her birth).

He just accepted that Kayla had Down syndrome without question.

Down syndrome was what she had, but what he had was a new granddaughter - and that was all that mattered to him.

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Delivering a Down Syndrome Diagnosis

We had 3 different dealings with the medical community regarding Kayla's diagnosis of Down syndrome.

The first one was with the results of my AFP prenatal screening test. Since this was a screening test  my doctor wasn't delivering a confirmed diagnosis, but rather should have been letting me know what my chances were for having a baby with Down syndrome. The doctor that called me with the results was one from the OB practice that I didn't care much for as I felt pressured by him to have the AFP in the first place. He told me that my results were 'positive' and I should schedule an appointment with the high-risk OB for a level II ultrasound ASAP. He made it sound urgent that I have this u/s done with no time to waist. I remember asking him if there were any kind of numbers from the test - I don't know what I was looking for, but something concrete. He told me no, just that it was positive. He was very brusque and hurried. He was incorrect in telling me the test was positive (yes, Kayla does have Ds, but again, this was a screening test - not a diagnostic test). He was also incorrect in telling me there were no numbers. I found out at my next appointment that week with a different OB in that practice (not the high-risk OB) that the screening test showed I had a 1 in 88 chance of having a baby with Ds.

After Kayla was born I looked at her face and immediately recognized the characteristic shape of her eyes and knew in my heart that she had Down syndrome. I asked the midwife who looked her over briefly but was noncommittal with an answer.

It wasn't until Kayla was taken out of the delivery room for the newborn examination and then a doctor later returned to talk to us about his observation of several characteristics that indicated Down syndrome. This was not a doctor we had ever seen before, he wasn't the doctor from the base who would become her pediatrician. Overall I don't remember him having any bad bedside manner with delivering the news. He indicated they would have to do a blood test to check her karyotype  in order to confirm the diagnosis. I don't remember a lot of what he said as I think I was in a fog, but I don't remember it being negative in nature. I felt like he was trying to be upbeat and positive.

The third interaction was with who would become Kayla's pediatrician from the base clinic. We hadn't yet met her, but she was the one who called us with the results of the karyotype. She asked us if we wanted to make an appointment to get the results or get them over the phone. I knew if she was asking if we wanted to make an appointment that meant she had Ds - she wouldn't ask if we wanted an appointment just to say she didn't have Ds. Joe was the one on the phone so I told him to tell her to tell us over the phone; I didn't want to wait for an appointment. When Joe said, "She does" it was obvious what that meant. Again, she wasn't negative with her delivery and when she saw us for Kayla's 2 week well-child visit she was very nice and kind, concerned and caring. She had some info printed off for us about Down syndrome, made sure we were aware of registering her in the military's Exceptional Family Member Program, and giving us the information for the local Early Intervention Center.

Thankfully we didn't have the horror story of diagnosis delivery that other people have received. Unfortunately medical personnel are still delivering the diagnosis in a not-so-caring way.

There are resources for the medical community to use in order to be more effective and neutral when giving a parent this diagnosis - whether pre- or postnatally.

The Lettercase booklet Understanding a Down Syndrome Diagnosis is known as the 'gold standard' for providing this information. It's the only resource that has been reviewed by representatives of national medical and Down syndrome organizations. It provides balanced and up-to-date information.

Down Syndrome Pregnancy's booklet Diagnosis to Delivery: A Pregnant Mother's Guide To Down Syndrome is a wonderful resource for woman who have just received the diagnosis prenatally and are deciding what to do with the information, and for women who have decided to continue the pregnancy.

The Down Syndrome Diagnosis Network provides resources and education and allows parents to give feedback to the medical providers on the quality of their prenatal or birth conversation diagnosis.

Mark Leach of Down Syndrome Prenatal Testing wrote a great article about delivering the Down syndrome diagnosis and the importance of medical providers delivering accurate, up-to-date, unbiased information.

Lastly, many medical professionals fail to mention that adoption is a real and viable option for couples who may decide they don't want to parent their child with Down syndrome. They are only presented with two options, continue the pregnancy and raise your baby - or terminate the pregnancy. Adoption is a third option and needs to be included when delivering this diagnosis. The National Down Syndrome Adoption Network can assist families who wish to pursue this option. Their mission is to ensure "every child born with Down syndrome has the opportunity to grow up in a loving family."

It is 2014, there shouldn't be any reason for a parent to have a negative diagnosis deliver story.

 

To My Eleven Year Old

Dear Kayla,

Today you turned 11 years old. Happy birthday my beautiful girl.

Your first couple of birthdays I would look back on your birth and had tears mixed in with the happy celebration. Those tears were not for you, but for me. You see, when you were born, and I realized you have Down syndrome, I cried. I didn't cry because you were born, and I didn't cry because I was sad about you. I cried because you had a diagnosis and I cried because I didn't know what that meant. I cried because of the unknown.

The future is still the unknown, but it is no longer a cause for tears...because I know YOU. I know who you are, I know what Down syndrome means to you and how it applies to your life. I get to watch you grow up and there is no greater gift.

So over your first few birthdays I cried because I regretted crying in those early days and feeling like I missed out on something while we were in the hospital and our first weeks at home.

But I no longer cry over the memories of your birth day. I learned that it was, and is, ok to cry over something you just don't know what to expect. I learned it was ok to cry about that aspect while still loving you and feeling overjoyed at becoming a mom.

I was never sad about you ... quite the opposite. I was thrilled you were a girl. I secretly wanted my first born child to be a daughter and there you were. You were what I wanted - my little girl.

You are my little girl who doesn't like to wear jewelery or have anything in your hair. You won't keep a ponytail or braid in your hair. But you love dresses. Oh how you love dresses!

You are growing up to be exactly who you were meant to be; who that is yet we don't know, but I'm enjoying watching you blossom into a beautiful young lady.

I know that I'm not the best parent. I know I have many flaws. I know I fail in many ways. I know I make many mistakes. But I'm the only mom you've got so you're going to have to stick with me through this journey! I'm learning as we go.

I love the way you embrace life. I love your giggles - they are infectious. I love your spunk, and, most of the time I love your energy!

Grab on to life with all you've got and swing with all your might. You've got your whole future in front of you and I know whatever you do you'll give it your all and you'll be successful. Your independence and determination will carry you far.

 Happy 11th birthday to my favorite daughter!


Love,
Mom

My Connection With Disability: An Introduction

The Summer Blog Hope Series is going to be a challenging one!

Bloggers are going to work their way through a whole arc of disability connection by sharing their stories over several preset prompts.

The first prompt is My Connection With Disability: An Introduction

If I have any first-time readers to my blog I will start by saying that my connection with disability is being a parent to a child who has Down syndrome.

Prior to that I had no real involvement to the disability world, or community. (I had a grandfather who had Parkinson's disease and a couple of strokes, but not living near him or being able to visit often, I didn't have as direct a connection with disability as I did when I became a parent.)

Kayla is my first-born child and we suspected she might have Down syndrome when I was pregnant with her. I had the triple screen blood test which came back as 1 in 88 chance of having a child with Ds. We declined an amnio. Level 2 ultra sounds didn't reveal any markers that gave us any more of an increased risk.

I didn't know anything about Down syndrome. Sure I had heard of it, and like many people from my generation I did grow up watching Life Goes On - so I knew one of the characters (Corky) had Down syndrome. Beyond recognizing the facial characteristics of Down syndrome I knew nothing else. I didn't know anyone with Down syndrome and there weren't any students with Down syndrome in any of the schools that I attended.

I didn't know anything about Down syndrome except to know that it wasn't something I wished for my child to have; in fact, every night after getting the results of the triple screen I would go to bed praying "Please God don't let my baby have Down syndrome, please let my baby be ok."

Waiting for Kayla to be born also meant waiting to find out her gender and the number of her chromosomes (although at the time I don't think I even knew that Down syndrome was the result of an extra chromosome.)

As soon as Kayla was born and I looked at her face I knew she had Down syndrome. I thought she had the tell-tale facial characteristics and there was no denying that I gave birth to a baby with a diagnosis. There was no denying that this was not how I envisioned parenthood to begin.

I really don't remember much of what I thought about Down syndrome, or what I thought it meant for Kayla, or what I thought it meant for me as a mother and of our future. I had nothing to go on, no expectations really. I just had a feeling of my daughter has something. It became this thing she had but I didn't know anything about it or what to do with it.

To read more about how I felt over the possibility of having a child with Down syndrome read my post "Guilt" (this became a story in the book Gifts).

Eight Years Ago

Eight years ago I woke up thinking I wasn't going to make it to work. I just didn't feel well and was lethargic. I called into work sick saying that if I felt better later that morning I would come in.

Eight years ago I sat in the glider with a heating pad on my back, wrapped in a blanket, and a baby-name book in my lap. I fell asleep off and on for about an hour.

Eight years ago I went back to bed and tried to get comfortable in different positions with pillows. Most of the time I spent on my knees hunched over a stack of pillows, rocking, alternately rubbing my back and stomach, drifting in and out of sleep.

Eight years ago Joe called me from work to see how I was doing. I said I was pretty sure I was having contractions and was trying to time, and record, them. But maybe they were just Braxton Hicks. I didn't know for sure, but I just didn't 'feel well.'

Eight years ago Joe suggested I try to get up and walk around because, you know, we read that in all the pregnancy books. It might help. I mumbled 'mmm-hmm' but to myself I was thinking 'Oh whatever. Forget everything I read to prepare for this. All I feel like doing is lying on these pillows, rocking, and rubbing my back, and moaning through the bouts of pain.'

Eight years ago Joe came home on his lunch break and helped me out of bed to walk through the house for a few minutes. I told him I just wanted to go back to bed.

Eight years ago I decided to get in the tub, because supposedly being in the water makes the contractions easier to handle. Being in the tub only seemed to make it worse.

Eight years ago I called Joe at work and said he should probably come back home. Yes, now.

Eight years ago he came home to find me still in the bathroom, out of the tub, hunched over the toilet (lid down, thank you very much) rocking and moaning and rubbing my back.

Eight years ago Joe wanted me to get in the car. I didn't want to move from that spot. I didn't want to sit in a car and ride to the hospital. I told him to just call an ambulance because I couldn't move.

Eight years ago I made the blood drain from Joe's face when in a scared and urgent voice I told him I thought I could feel the baby's head now and to please look to see if he could see the head. (You can't be responsible for anything you say in the middle of labor, right?)

Eight years ago I told Joe to load up the car with my suitcase, camera, video camera, pillow, snacks, etc etc etc while I continued to wait in the bathroom and then I would leave to go to the hospital.

Eight years ago Joe finally managed to get me up off the bathroom floor and out to the car. I thought I would be too uncomfortable sitting up in the front seat, laboring, so I sat in the back so I could be semi-hunched over my pile of pillows.

Eight years ago Joe drove to the hospital pretty much one-handed while the other hand reached across the backseat so I could hold it and squeeze through the contractions. When we were half-way to the hospital he said I had 3 contractions, so that meant just getting through 3 more and we would be at the hospital. He was close...it was 4 more.

Eight years ago we parked at the hospital and I told Joe to leave all of our things in the car and just get me registered and in a room first, and then he could come back to get the bag and everything else. Because you know, first time births take hours upon hours upon hours.

Eight years ago we checked in to L&D at 3:00. It was calm and quiet at the desk, no one was in a hurry...had to answer questions and paperwork. I leaned on Joe and rocked back and forth and let him do the talking.

Eight years ago they got me in a room and told me to put on a robe and get on the bed so I could be checked. But at that moment I didn't want to lie down, I just wanted to stand on my feet and rock back and forth. The nurse told me the sooner they could check to see where I was the sooner they could probably let me back out of bed to walk around.

Eight years ago I finally got the robe on and got on that bed. There was still no big rush as the nurse got everything going for all the pre-labor preparations.

Eight yeas ago someone checked me and the nice, calm, serene, slow-pace was shattered as she yelled out, "She's complete with a bulging sac of water! Get Cindy (midwife) over here NOW!" Then my water broke.

Eight years ago I told Joe, "Guess it's too late for an epidural."

Eight years ago Cindy arrived within minutes, there were nurses all over my room. One of the nurses grabbed my thigh and told Joe to get my other leg, she gave me instructions on how to grab my thighs, breathe, push, something or other, and I could push now. I got all ready and then said something like, "Wait, can you explain that again?"

Eight years ago, at 3:45, 45 min after checking in to the hospital, I gave birth. There hadn't been time for Joe to go back and get all the 'stuff' from the car after all - including the camera. There are no just-after-birth pictures, and baby-being-weighed pictures, of Kayla.

Eight years ago I heard Joe say, "It's a girl!" (We hadn't found out during the pregnancy.)

Eight years ago they placed her across my lap, I looked into her face for the first time and said, in a voice that sounded very detached from the whole situation, "She does have Down syndrome, doesn't she?"

Eight years ago I became a mother. A mother of a daughter. A mother of a child with Down syndrome.

Eight years ago what I thought only happened to 'other people' became my reality.

Eight years ago my beautiful, wonderful, amazing, stubborn, strong-willed, free-spirit, arms-crossing-miss-attitude, impulsive, friendly, lovable Kayla came in to the world just as she was meant to be.

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Happy birthday sweet girl. I love you.

Two Years Ago

Two years ago Joe announced the birth of our son. Kayla became a big sister and we became a family of 4.


Looking back I realize I never wrote down Lucas's birth story! Of course I meant to do that - how did so much time pass?!

I labored at home pretty much all day with Kayla. When I called Joe at work to tell him to get home it still took him almost an hour to convince me to get off the floor and out to the car! By the time we arrived at the hospital and checked in I was completely dilated and Kayla was born 45 min later.

So throughout my pregnancy with Lucas we kept reading that second babies usually have a shorter labor and arrive faster...so Joe was determined that I wasn't going to wait as long to go to the hospital this time - he didn't want to deliver at home!

I liked arriving at the hospital being completely dilated and told I could start pushing right away! I didn't want to arrive and have to spend hours and hours there in labor - that was my one fear.

I woke up on the morning of the 22nd with some cramping and had a feeling 'today is finally the day.' Joe went in to work for half a day to take care of some things. When he got home the contractions seemed to have stopped so I told him to just go back to work, but he didn't want to take any chances so he stayed home.

A couple hours later the contractions started up again, some a lot more intense than I was expecting. I was glad he was home to get Kayla off the bus. We started timing them off and on but they weren't too close and not in a very consistent pattern yet.

The friends who were going to watch Kayla were out of town but expected to be back around 8pm; in the meantime, I called another friend to have her on standby in case we were headed to the hospital before then.

I think Joe was getting a little antsy when the contractions started coming together, but I told him if we went to the hospital I didn't want to hear I was only dilated to a 4, or even 6.

Our friends arrived back home at 8 so Joe brought Kayla over there to get her settled and as soon as he got back we took off for the hospital.

We got all checked in to the room, vitals, IVs, stats, etc taken care of and then I was checked. When the nurse said I was a '6' Joe said he could just see my face fall. I was really hoping I was farther along! The nurse asked what my plans were for pain control and I said I really was going to try and get through with nothing. I didn't have a chance to use anything with Kayla and hoped I could do the same this time as well.

I did have really, really bad back pain with Lucas though. It was awful. I asked for some Motrin, as if that could really help! The nurse brought me Motrin and a heating pad.

I tried lying on my side and having Joe rub my back...I wanted him to put a lot of pressure on my lower back hoping it would counteract the pain of the contractions.

Finally, I told the nurse I needed/wanted an epidural. I didn't think I could make it anymore with the back pain. I remember feeling guilty asking for it because I wanted to be able to get through it naturally. I didn't realize an epidural wouldn't happen right away. She said I had to have 2 bags of fluid, they had to get my blood work back first and call the anesthesiologist with the results, and he had up to an hour to respond. I told her to go ahead and start the IV and get the ball rolling.

Then I kept complaining about how very much I just huuuuuuurt! So she asked if I wanted to try Stadol first; I didn't want to go that route either, but finally relented when she said we could try just 1/2 a dose and that it would help take the edge off.

As soon as the Stadol went in I immediately felt very light-headed and drowsy. I thought this was going to be sweet relief and I could just go to sleep for a while and not be bothered by the contractions. But no, the next contraction hit and it was still every bit as painful as before! So now I was drowsy and out of it and still having bad back pain, but couldn't focus on anything.

I don't remember how much time had passed but the monitor for Lucas's heart rate wasn't registering so she was trying to get that adjusted across my belly again. It wasn't working. Another nurse came in...talk about his heart rate...me trying not to freak out because I'm out of it with the Stadol but vaguely aware that something isn't right.

They want me to roll over to my back so they can check internally but after having 2 bags of IV in preparation for the epidural my bladder felt like it was about to burst. All I kept saying was "I have to pee! I can't move! It hurts!"

There were 3 nurses in the room now and I was fighting through the fuzziness in my head and finally rolled over so they could get a monitor internally and finally found his heartbeat. It was a little low so I had to keep adjusting my position and then they gave me oxygen.

I thought the Stadol was wearing off and asked (begged) for more but was told it was too soon for anymore. In the middle of all this, I kept telling Joe to "press harder on my back!"

I complained again that I had to "pee, now!" and was told after they broke my water I could go. (Some of the sequencing might be off...after 2 years I don't quite remember what order everything happened in!) but I remember responding, "You want me to just...go? Lay here and just pee?!" (oh the things you say when in labor and have Stadol in your system!) There is no dignity and privacy in labor!

I think I asked for the epidural again but when the nurse checked me I was at an 8 and she said I really didn't need it now...by the time he could get to the hospital I would be ready to push.

Then I did get that urge to push; a really strong urge to push. The nurse kept telling me "not yet, don't push yet!"

Oh it was so very hard to NOT push. I gripped the handrails and twisted my hands back and forth trying to take my mind off the urge to push. I didn't think there would be any way I could NOT push. It was awful. I kept complaining again about how much it hurt.

Then it was finally time. I could start pushing. Oh man the loud, guttural sounds that came out of my mouth- I had no idea I could make noises like that! ha! It was a little harder to push Lucas out than it was Kayla.

Once his head was out Joe said he could see the cord was wrapped around his neck; the midwife slipped her fingers under the cord and was able to pull it around his head. I felt so exhausted to push anymore but the nurse sounded urgent when she told me to give another push 'because he needs some oxygen!' I remember he did look a little bluish too.

A lot of good the oxygen mask did me! That's how out of it and hectic things got; I guess no one noticed it wasn't even over my nose anymore!


and wires were all over the place!


It felt like we were there for hours, but we arrived at 9 and Lucas was born at 1225. Not too bad...except for that back pain!

Reposting the video of Kayla meeting Lucas for the first time. She was so excited and enamored with him!

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And now Lucas is this 2 years old going on 12 years old! His favorite phrase is "I do it by self!" (Courtesy of listening to his big sister!) He loves following Kayla around and doing everything she does. I can't even count the number of words he knows...he repeats pretty much everything we say. He and Kayla are going to get into a lot of mischief together as they grow up!

Happy 2nd birthday Lucas!! We love you so much.

Memorable Moment

A long time ago (ok back in January!) Pastor Mac's Ann tagged me for a "Most Memorable Moment In My Life" meme and this is me, finally getting around to it! It is hard to pick one because let's face it - we all have plenty of memorable moments throughout our lives.

The most memorable moment I decided to write about was Kayla's birth story! I have a feeling this might get kind of long, so grab a drink and read it when you have a few minutes! This is all about the actual birth, to read about my feelings upon getting Kayla's diagnosis you'll have to read this post.

I think I read every pregnancy book out there; ok not that many, but I did read everything I could and tried to prepare myself as best I could for what to expect, what to bring, how labor would go, things I would try etc. Funny thing about labor and delivery is you can be as prepared as you'll ever be and things still won't happen the way you think. It's just so unpredictable!

When I packed my bag I had camera, video camera, books/magazines, lotion, back massager, Therma-care heating pad, swim trunks for Joe (they don't have a birthing tub at this hospital, but an extra large shower stall where they said some women are comfortable in the water and your partner can get in with you - I was anticipating needing this). I contemplated buying an exercise ball so I would have that as well. The hospital had a few birthing balls, but I was worried they would all be in use when I might need one! In the end I didn't buy one though.

We went to the birthing classes at the hospital and I tried to remember everything that was taught. A couple times Joe and I actually practiced going in to labor and timing the contractions (because the book said to do this!) He timed the "contractions" while I practiced breathing and he talked me through each one. We couldn't get through these few practice trials without laughing and being serious though!

I read all about early stages of labor and what it felt like, what to look for, how you'll know etc. Over the weekend of July 12-13 we finally finished the nursery (I was due on the 23rd!) and I packed my hospital bag. On the 14th I wrote in my pregnancy diary, "Last night I had some crampy-type feelings. I don't think they were BH contractions because it felt different, but it wasn't in any pattern either - just off and on. I have a dr appt tomorrow and I'll find out if I'm any more dilated."

Monday was the 14th and I was at work with these "crampy-type" feelings all day, just off and on. I was standing in front of a coworkers desk just rubbing my stomach and feeling tired when she asked if I was ok. "Yeah, just some cramps." (hello! contractions! or at least the very beginnings of contractions getting my body ready for labor.) My supervisor was leaving the next day on a business trip for a few days. Before he left at the end of that day he stopped by and said to me, "Now there isn't going to be a baby before I get back is there?" I replied, "I don't think so, but I can't promise anything!" (When I looked back on that I thought it was so funny he asked me that because Kayla was born the next day!).

Monday night I didn't sleep well at all, tossed-turned, experienced more "cramps", was uncomfortable, kept going to the bathroom, and finally the alarm went off around 5. I got up and was eating breakfast but I just didn't feel well at all and my stomach kept hurting with cramps! I called in to work and left a message basically saying I didn't feel good, but if I felt better later that morning I would try and come in.

I sat in our glider with a heating pad and an afghan wrapped around me. On the end table was the baby name book. I decided to flip through the boy's section again. We had Ethan Tyler picked out but I wasn't completely decided and I wanted to be prepared in case we did have a boy. (No we didn't know the gender). I felt so drowsy and just couldn't keep my eyes open. I finally gave in and slept off and on.

I finally admitted to myself these were contractions and I better start timing them! I started timing them at 927 and timed until 1123. ( They fluctuated from 18 minutes to 9 minutes.) I think Joe must have called then to see how I was doing. I told him I was miserable and that I thought this was it. By that time I was back on our bed trying different positions to get more comfortable - laying on the pillows, kneeling over pillows etc. Joe told me to get up and walk around (because that's what we learned in child birth class you know!) I told him I didn't feel like it! He came home from lunch, helped me get out of bed and walked me around our house with me moaning and groaning the whole time and complaining that I didn't want to walk, I just wanted to lay down in bed! I knew he was only trying to help and do what we thought we should be doing to help with labor, so I let him have a few minutes of walking then I went back to bed.

Joe had a meeting at 2:30 and asked if I was going to be ok or if I needed him to stay home with me. I didn't think we were anywhere near ready to go to the hospital so I told him to go on back to work. (At one of my OB appts the doctor asked me if I knew when it would be time to go to the hospital and I answered "when the contractions are 10-15 min apart?" He told me no because a lot of times the contractions will stop, or get further apart and that is too soon and they end up sending the mom home, especially first time moms. He told me not until the contractions were 2-5 minutes apart. I have no idea how true this is, or if I should have gone in sooner, but I listened to what he said.) So I was anticipating hours more of these contractions, and that I would probably be in labor for another 12 hrs or so, because I was a first-time mom you know and they have longer labors.

After Joe left I decided to get in the bathtub because I read/heard being in the water helps with contractions. At that point I just couldn't relax enough in the tub, it felt like the contractions were coming much closer together and much stronger. I thought I should start timing them again. I timed from 1:16 to 2:03 just to make sure they were consistent. They were. Consistently 2-5 minutes apart with one 7-minute thrown in there for good measure. This is when I started to worry. I called Joe thinking I would catch him before he left for his appt; no such luck. His coworker asked if I wanted the # where he was at and through a contraction I said "mmmhmm" but then he asked if I wanted him to call Joe for me, again, "mmhmm". Within minutes Joe called me back and I told him, "I think it's time to go to the hospital, the contraction are now 2-5 min apart." "I'll be right there." was his response and he was gone.

From the time I got out of the tub and was timing the contractions I was in the bathroom on the floor hunched over the toilet (with the lid down!) I just felt better in a hunched over position like that and didn't want to move. That's how Joe found me when he got home, and he seemed kind of hurried and frantic...gee I wonder why! He asked if I called the OB yet (no, can you do it for me?) He got them on the phone and they told him to just go on up to the hospital. He asked if I wanted him to call my mom and I said ok. Her and my sister were at my aunt's house because they were planning on flying in the next day (or maybe it was the day after). Either way he called and when my aunt answered he said, "This is Joe is Donna there?" in a hurried voice. My aunt was confused. She was thinking who is this strange guy calling Donna at my house?" She asked, "Who is this?" He said, "Joe, Michelle's husband." Then I heard my aunt loud and clear "Oh my gosh is Michelle in labor?! Donna! Michelle's in labor!" Joe said we were going to the hospital now. Afterwards I found out they were in chaos mode too...running around throwing clothes in a suitcase so they could all beat feet to the airport and pray they could get on a standby flight. Then Joe called his mom and got her voice mail so he left a message.

This whole time I'm still in the bathroom and he's trying to get me up and out to the car. I kept making excuses and telling him to go put the bag in the car first, don't forget my body pillow, make sure you bring this, rub my back through this contraction, no just one more please. I even told him to just call an ambulance to take me to the hospital because I didn't think I could make it there driving in the car. The thought of having to sit up front in the passenger seat and endure these contractions was not a pleasant one. I told Joe, "I don't think I'm going to be able to go through the rest of this labor without anything, I'm going to need an epidural when we get to the hospital." (I was going to try and deliver naturally.)

Then. Oh my. I felt a huge amount of pressure and told Joe, "I think I feel the head!" He told me "it's not the head, but come on let's get to the hospital!" I felt panicked, really thinking I could feel the head coming out so I told him, "no you have to check! Please see if you can see the head!" So he very quickly looked, said there was no head and let's get going now! (Later Joe told me when I said I thought I felt the head he could feel the blood just drain from his face.) So I finally got myself out to the car and semi-laid down on my pillow and suitcase in the back seat. Joe drove with one hand and had the other hand reached back between the seats for me to hold on to during the contractions. He kept talking to me, trying to keep me calm, I I just kept squeezing his hand and concentrated on the sound of his voice. After 3 contractions he told me we were halfway there so I should have 3 more and we would be there.

We arrived in the parking lot and when I got out of the car I told him to leave everything there and let's just get in and get me settled in the room then he could come out later and get my stuff.

We got to the front desk about 3:00. They weren't expecting us (we thought the OB's office would have called) so Joe had to do all the explaining for me (I just didn't feel like I had the energy to talk). One nurse brought us into the delivery room and told me to go change in to the gown. Joe and I went to the bathroom and all I wanted to do was stand there and rock back and forth on my feet and not move. Then I lost my mucous plug which Joe let the nurse know. She said, "well just don't push." I didn't feel like I had to push until she said that! I finally changed and then she wanted me to lay down on the bed. I said I couldn't, it was too uncomfortable and all I wanted to do was stand. I couldn't handle the contractions laying down on my back. She told me we just need to check the baby's heart beat and after that you can get up and walk around. At this point it was only her in the room and she didn't seem to be in any hurry with me.

I finally gave in and laid down, another nurse came in and they were doing their thing. Got the monitors on, were getting my information for the wrist bracelets etc. Then someone checked me. All heck broke loose. "She's complete and I've got a bulging sac of waters! Get Cindy over here NOW!" (Cindy was the midwife at the OB office who was on-call that day.) As soon as that happened I heard a pop and a gush...there went the bulging sac of waters! After that everything happened so fast and there seemed to be so many people in the room. (I don't think they were expecting me to be that far along...neither was I!).

I looked at Joe and said, "I guess it's too late to ask for anything now." and I managed a weak smile.

In minutes Cindy was there and then they were telling me whenever I felt my next contraction I could push. She told me to put my hands here, bring my legs up, sit half-way up, take a deep breath, tuck my chin in, and push for a count of 10. I said "ok" and then "what do I do again?"

All of a sudden I felt calm and peaceful and I was waiting for the next contraction which I didn't feel happening. It felt like they stopped all of a sudden. That worried me. I didn't want to get that far only to have labor stop! I think I just finally let my body relax and that's why I didn't feel it. At the time I didn't want them to think that labor had stopped so I pretended I felt the urge to push and just pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

At some point Joe's mom called the front desk. The nurse came in to the room saying "the father's mother is on the phone." I think everyone just kind of looked at her. One of the nurses in the room said, "well he's a little busy and can't talk now!" (I found out later my MIL just wanted to ask the nurse about how close we were to delivering. She said "It's going to take us about 8 hrs to get there - will there be a baby before then?")

Finally someone called out they could see the head. Then when I stopped pushing I felt the head slide back in. This happened a few times. I would push, "there's the head!" and the head would disappear. (I remember from child birth class the instructor said it was like taking 2 steps forward and 1 step back because the head would make progress, then go back in the canal). After the 3rd or 4th time of someone saying they saw the head I said, "but it keeps going back in!" On the next push right before I stopped pushing I tightened my muscles and "held" the head there while I took another breath to push (thank goodness for Kegel exercises!) -I was not letting that head go back again! Joe said he even noticed that time the head didn't go back in. Then once the head finally came out I was expecting the rest of the body to just come sliding out next with minimal effort - that's how it seemed it always happened on the birth day shows on TLC! I think Kayla's shoulder was stuck though. I was pushing, but half-heartedly and Joe said Cindy was really trying to work the shoulder out. She finally told me she needed me to give her one big push and then, then I felt my baby's body come sliding out. I immediately sat up to see if we had a boy or a girl. At the same time I looked down Joe said, "we have a girl!"

She was born at 3:45...about 45 minutes after we got to the hospital. That's how close we came to delivering at home! Funny thing is I had an OB appt that day at 3:50.

And we had no camera. Remember when we arrived I had left everything in the car thinking Joe would have time to go get it later? I was so bummed thinking of all those "first" pictures we were going to miss.

2 of my pregnant friends also had OB appts that day around the same time, they couldn't believe it when they found out I had already delivered. They were able to stop by, as did Joe's commander's wife, all before I even was showered and out of the delivery room.

My mom, aunt, and sister were able to get on a flight. While they were waiting they had something to eat. They were 2 hrs ahead of us. About 5:45 my mom said "oh my stomach doesn't feel good at all." 5:45 was 3:45 our time. I was just giving birth.

After I called my dad with the news that he was a grandfather I called my mom's parents since I knew I wouldn't be able to get a hold of my mom. My grandparents then called my uncle (my aunt's husband who is a retired Delta airlines pilot). My uncle was able to get a message to the captain on their flight. They handed a note to my aunt which read, "Please pass to Debbie XXX wife of DAL Capt in seat1D that her niece gave birth to baby girl and all is well." My aunt went back to my mom's seat and handed her the note. She and Kelly read it and tried to contain their excitement when all they wanted to do was scream. My mom said all along she just knew I was going to have a girl.

Friends of ours went to the airport to pick them up and I think they arrived around 10ish. Joe's parents had a flat tire on the way and arrived close to midnight. I was surprised everyone was allowed in since it was well past visiting hours at the hospital...but I don't think there would have been anyway nurses would have been able to keep our families from seeing Kayla that day/night!

And about being prepared? Joe didn't get to use his swim trunks, I didn't get to use the heating pad or massager or lotion. Best laid plans huh?

I told you it was long, but there is one of my most memorable moments ever.