I realized somewhere along the line that I documented Olivia's birth story, and our journey to her, in detailed near-perfection. With Annabelle, well, some good context might be this recent conversation between Rob and I:
Rob: what are you doing? What's that you're writing in?
Me: Annabelle's baby book. I want to document some things, at least
Rob: Annabelle has a baby book?
This is not a "look what a clueless dad my husband is" moment, it's a moment where we acknowledge the realness of having more than one kid. It's crazy busy, crazy overwhelming, and time passes in the blink of an eye. Only fitting, I suppose, that I'm finally writing Annabelle's birth story nearly a year after the event.
Annabelle was due the day before Olivia's birthday: September 26. I actually feared and fantasized about them having the same birthday. As adults it would be cool, but in the 18-ish (heavy on the -ish) years preceding, would they be as thrilled? Not likely.
With Olivia, we had tried for over a year and a half. Had gone to our doctors to make sure we were otherwise healthy, and played the long waiting game. Around age 3, Olivia started asking for a baby. She preferred a sister and would like one "now please. Or maybe tomorrow."
We decided we wanted one more summer as a family of 3 (remembering that I had already had one summer pregnancy and that was crazy, so I had decided never to do that again). We'd try in the fall, so I'd have a longer maternity leave either in the spring into summer, or summer into fall.
That summer was amazing. We went to Disneyland! Legoland! The beach! The mountains! Picnics, playgrounds, restaurants, pools! My sister got married, we were in that wedding. We partied hard as a little family of 3. You name it, we did it that summer. Really packed it in. It was a glorious summer.
Fall came. People, this was the hardest year teaching I've ever had. Difficult chemistry of students, lots of new curriculum, and just a rough year all around. Oh, and I blew out my knee 3 weeks into the school year. Fuuuuuuun.
September: no positive pregnancy text. October: nope. November: well, there goes my plan of having an extended maternity leave. Whatever, I'll enjoy the holidays and we'll try after that. December... I'm late. Could it be? A Christmas baby announcement?
Nope. Late, painful, but definitely a period. Sad and cranky Christmas but hey, we're only 4 months in, Olivia took so long, it's probably just going to take a while for this one, too.
January. I was exhausted and the return after winter break was not typical. Still as hard as September no matter what I did. I had a glass of wine. I checked my app (yes, I used a fertility app. No more peeing on an ovulation test daily, I did not have the time or energy for that!). Oh, I should take a pregnancy test tomorrow, said the app. Whoop dee do. *insert eye roll here*
The next morning I almost forgot. With Olivia, I remember I just knew. This time, I grabbed the test as I went to shower, and tossed it unceremoniously onto the back of the toilet. I was almost in the shower and decided to take a sneak peek.
Wait, WHAT?!
I showered, checked again. Yep. Positive. We were going to have another baby. Oh shit. It's real now.
I remember Rob was standing by the back door. I showed him and he smiled. We hugged. I probably cried (hormones!).
A few weeks later we told Olivia by telling her we were getting her a special birthday present: a baby! And it might be born on her actual birthday! Her response, after her initial elation: "ok, but make sure it's a baby sister. I really want a baby sister."
The pregnancy itself was rather uneventful. Very similar to my pregnancy with Olivia: I still hated being pregnant, I had yet another summer pregnancy, and both baby and me were happy and healthy. I had anemia and heartburn, and ate a lot of steak and ice cream. We went to Wallowa lake as a family in the hottest August I've ever experienced. But it was a lovely "babymoon" for our little family. We found out we were having a girl at 20 weeks. Olivia thought she had a direct line to God after that - she had ordered a sister, and a sister would be delivered to her!
The school year started back up, and we had a plan for work, and everything for me. We had Olivia's birthday party almost a month early, over Labor Day weekend, just in case. That turned out to be a smart move...
My sister had come to town to visit, and she left the week school started. She and my mom were taking a road trip back to her home in LA, spending some time together on the way back. My dad had a work trip planned. "Are you sure?" My mom kept asking. Yes, of course. She's not due for 2 more weeks! Go, do your thing. We'll all be here when you get back, still waiting for baby girl to make her entrance.
On September 12 I went to the doctor for my regular weekly appointment. That day had been so hot at school, and I had had a headache all day long. I was so tired, I couldn't see straight. The nurse took my blood pressure and remarked that it was high. Ah, we've been here before, I thought to myself. I braced myself for the news that I'd be put on bedrest again. I did mention my headache and blurry vision, too.
"Congratulations!" said my doctor as she entered the room, "You've just bought yourself a ticket to the hospital!" I was confused. "Surely you just mean bedrest until she's full term?" Nope. Turns out the combination of those 3 symptoms sealed our fates: baby was coming at almost 38 weeks along, and my only trip home would be to grab the hospital bag and turn right back around.
The only problem was, we didn't have anywhere for Olivia to go! My parents were both out of town! We called Olivia's godparents, and thankfully, they were able to keep Olivia overnight while we went to the hospital. She still talks about it. She had a blast.
Olivia took one last picture of us as we left the house. It's extremely unflattering and our house was very messy, but it was such a sweet moment. We were walking to the door and she shouted, "Wait! We need one more picture of you guys before the baby is here!"
We called my mom. She answered the phone as they were pulling into my sister's parking spot. They had literally just arrived at my sister's house, and my mom turned back around, bought a plane ticket, and flew home.
I was induced beginning at 7pm that evening. Olivia had come in less than 6 hours, so we were anticipating a quick arrival for Annabelle as well. I did not take any sleep aids this time! We spent the night trying to rest and trying to move things along by walking. Progress was very slow, and by morning my water still hadn't broken.
So the doctor came in to break my water and things started moving along. "We'll have a baby before dinner" she'd said. After a while I decided I was ready for the epidural, and we called the anesthesiologist. And that's when things really got crazy.
We got the epidural in, and the pain relief was great... for about 30 seconds. I suddenly started feeling weak, light headed, and nauseous. The irony of the next few hours (hours? Minutes? Time is fuzzy for me here) is that I was induced for high blood pressure, but when the epidural was applied, my blood pressure dropped so low that I nearly passed out several times. The result of this was twofold: one was that they had to use an IV medication to raise my blood pressure again, but it was only short acting and had to be given again and again, wearing off each time. Two was that they had to lower and eventually stop giving me the pain relief from the epidural.
By the time I was stabilized, I started to feel contractions again. Only this was like nothing I had ever felt (with Olivia, the epidural went off without a hitch and I had a very relaxed labor once it was in). I kept telling them I could feel them stronger and stronger. Suddenly, I knew what was happening. I was going to have to deliver this baby without the pain medication I was relying on having.
I knew I could handle it, but I was mad. I was that mom screaming in the delivery room at every contraction, every push. I was tired and angry that the one part of this birth I thought I could control (pain medication) was no longer in my control. This baby was coming. Now.
The funniest part was probably that, in the middle of all of it, we got to the point where Annabelle's head was crowning. The doctor told me she could see her head as a means of encouraging me and my efforts. I responded "Good, so if you see her head could you just go ahead and pull her out the rest of the way?" She laughed. I wasn't joking.
She did not, in fact, pull Annabelle out for me. I made it through and all of a sudden there was a wiggly, wrinkly, tiny little thing resting on my chest. Annabelle was here, finally, and even in her brand new state, she was beautiful. My mom had made it back and she and Rob were holding my hands, and we all cried, of course. The wait was over, she was here. Most importantly, I was no longer pregnant!
And now the hard work would really begin. We knew this, but in the hours that followed, all we knew was love and bliss (and mesh undies).
It's been a wild almost year getting to know this new human in our lives, lots of ups and downs. But we wouldn't change a thing about how she's settled right into our family like it's always been this way. Welcome to the world, Annabelle. It's a better place because you're here.
