Archive | Birthdays RSS feed for this section

>My Baby Boy is 3!

10 Jan

>So today is Clark’s 3rd birthday. I had grand visions of a birthday party with friends and all that jazz, but it didn’t happen. Instead, we got our travel money from Sam’s company, so I spent a good portion of the day making plane reservations, hotel reservations, car reservations, mental hospital reservations. You know. In exactly one week, we will be homeless and I’m trying not to think about it!

Anyway, all in all, we actually did have a good day. When Clark woke up from his nap this afternoon, we went to Noodles and Company one last time so he could get the Macaroni and Cheese one last time (and I could sneak a bite here and there. Seriously–best Macaroni and Cheese EVER!) Then we got some balloons and came home and had cake and ice cream and opened presents. SOMEONE got extra spoiled this year by Grandma J., especially considering his presents from us weren’t even wrapped. I know, I know. I’m the worst mom ever.

So…since part of my goal for blogging is to have a centralized place for my life stories, here’s Clark’s birth story. Feel free to skip, although it’s a pretty good one! Meredith’s birth was completely routine, so I’m sorry, Baby Girl, that your birth story (and probably those of any future siblings you may have) will always be eclipsed by your brother’s!

From even before I was pregnant, I was convinced that I would have a boy first and felt that way through the entire beginning of my pregnancy. I was sure. At 14 weeks, we had had a few issues and had an ultrasound at the hospital with an ultrasound tech. He told me that it was too early to tell and that I shouldn’t go buy baby clothes based on that early of an ultrasound, but he thought it was a boy. That made me even more certain that I was having a boy, so I ran with it.

When I was 22-23 weeks pregnant with Clark, I went in for the standard “make sure the baby’s healthy” ultrasound. We did all the standard stuff and then the doctor asked if I wanted to know what we were having. I told him we did and he said it was…a girl! He got multiple shots and I was so shocked that he even drew a little diagram on one of my ultrasound pictures that shows what girl parts look like and what boy parts look like and why these parts were girl parts. I think I secretly wanted a girl, so I ran with it. Girl clothes. Girl name (Olivia). Girly baby shower.

At 30 weeks, I remember sitting in the room where we kept our computers, The Apprentice on in the background, looking at the ultrasound pictures and thinking, “You know, I’m not totally convinced this is a girl.” But my doctor was the medical professional and he was 97% sure the baby was a girl. So I kept running with it.

The last 6 weeks or so of my pregnancy were awful (but then, aren’t they always??) I walked around dilated 3-4 centimeters for about 5 weeks. The crappy thing about being dilated or having a lot of contractions, I learned, is that it does not always mean impending labor. I woke up every morning wondering if that day would be the day and it never was. To make matters worse, my sister, who was due 3 weeks behind me, developed pre-eclampsia and it looked like she might have her baby before me. She says I told my other sister Holley some very mean things, so either Holley was creating drama or I was in a hormone-induced state of insanity and have no recollection of saying those mean things. Anyway, on my due date, my sister found out she was being induced the next Tuesday. I was not happy. She was NOT having her baby before me, so I called my doctor in complete hysterics, BEGGING him to induce me. His nurse told me they call that the “CGOs” (Can’t Go Ons). I definitely had a serious case of the CGOs. We went into make sure that my conditions were favorable for an induction and was told that I had a 7-pound, head-down baby girl who would be here soon.

That Sunday (two days before my sister’s induction), we arrived at the hospital bright and early. I remember that it was unseasonably warm for January and that I seriously over-packed; I was hauling a laptop in a big bag that clanged every time I took a step. Sam thought it was rather ominous. They admitted me, got me hooked up to some Pitocin, and we watched Roxanne. They brought me breakfast, but I wasn’t allowed to eat it (not that I wanted to), so Sam dined on French toast and sausage. I thought the smell of it was going to make me puke. After he ate, he went into the bathroom and my water suddenly broke. After that, the contractions became infinitely worse and Groundhog Day became infinitely more annoying (if you think that’s not possible, well, it is.)

Right then, my doctor came to break my water only to learn that he’d missed Sunday School in vain because I’d done the job for him. He told the nurse to, among other things, insert an internal scalp monitor on the baby (they attach a little wire to the baby’s skull). While she was feeling around for the baby’s head, she suddenly got a weird look on her face and said, “Something’s not right!” and ran out of the room. She came back a few minutes later with an ultrasound machine and discovered that the baby was breech. Since my water had already broken, there wasn’t an option of turning the baby and IHC doesn’t deliver single breech babies, so we had to do a c-section. They upped my epidural and rolled me into the operating room in what seemed like just a few minutes. I wasn’t expecting to feel as doped-out as I did, so I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have and definitely wasn’t all there. After a few minutes of pushing and pulling, the doctor said, “Um, Olivia has an extra appendage!” Everyone in the OR started laughing and I couldn’t figure out why my baby having an extra arm was so funny. And then I realized what he meant and I said, “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’ve gotta be KIDDING me!” He was not kidding me.

Everyone ran off to take care of him when the nurse told me, “Kate, your baby’s huge!” I just hung out in drugged-out bliss while my reproductive organs were manually inspected when she came back in and said, “He’s over 9 pounds!” So yeah, my head-down, 7-lb. girl ended up being, well, not that way! Then they brought him in and he was so squirmy and sad and cute and I fell in love with him instantly and any preconceptions or imaginations of a baby girl disappeared.

We’re so lucky to have him. The kid is hilarious and makes us laugh every day (yeah, you all say that about your kids, but MINE is the funniest! 😉 ). Three years have gone by too fast, but he’ll always be my baby. Happy birthday, Clarkie!