Dear Paxton,

Our family, my body, our routines, my love for you… all of these things have drastically changed in the past week.

It’s no secret that this pregnancy was not the easiest. By some miracle, I hit 37 weeks and was still pregnant. My mind immediately shifted from doing everything possible to keep your little brother inside me to feeling like it was go time, I wanted to meet him and I was desperately over being pregnant. We were able to sneak in a couple family outings there at the end. We went to the air force academy (you have a new obsession with airplanes, because they go “Zooom, zoom!”  We were able to go swimming at the little pool in town, and you know I love squeezing those thighs in your swimming suits!  We took you to the zoo, all the while I was thinking it would happen any second. We’d be gazing at the giraffes and my water would break or we’d being growling like the bears and I would drop with contractions that would tell me it was time. It didn’t happen. In fact, 37 weeks turned into 38 weeks. I landed myself back at the doctor one day during school because while I was teaching the room started spinning, I got sick, and was sure I was going to pass out. Somewhere in the dizzy spells, I also got my first pop-in evaluation from the principal (who had no idea what was going on)…what are the chances of that? I went to the school nurse and she took my blood pressure a couple times that day before telling me that I needed to head over to either labor and delivery or my doctor. I knew I wasn’t in labor, so I went to my doctor. I also knew I was going to have to admit that I hadn’t been following my bed rest to their expectations.

At the doctor, they did a non stress test, another ultrasound to check on size, and kept me for a couple hours. I was having very strong contractions every 2-3 minutes, but your brother was responding to them well. They estimated his weight at over 9 pounds and sent me home on STRICT bed rest. I had a follow up with the doctor 2 days later, on a Friday. I talked to the administration and teachers I work with to inform them that I wouldn’t be back until after baby was here. I went home and really did nothing.

Friday’s appointment was not too exciting. I hadn’t changed much in terms of progress, and my blood pressure was still elevated. She set a date for induction on Wednesday, September 3rd, but told me she was 95% sure I wouldn’t make it to Wednesday. (Sounds like a challenge to me). She thought she’d be seeing me in the hospital in the next 24-48 hours. Instead of feeling super panicky, I felt relieved. There was an end in sight and I really wasn’t going to be pregnant forever. It was so weird to just assume I would have your brother early, just like you. They had me so worked up for so many weeks about premature delivery and now we were setting a day to be induced. You really can’t make plans.

Friday night passed.

Saturday passed.

Sunday was ticking away. I felt like crap. Every move I made, someone was asking if I was ok, or if this was it. I was getting tiny bits of sleep at night between killer contractions and going to the bathroom between 6-26 times. I was dizzy, I was done. I took my blood pressure Sunday evening around dinner time and it was 150/110. I made the decision that we would go to the hospital that night. I had a deep fear of being sent home. To me, that would make me a wimp, saying I couldn’t handle something that women are made to go through. I desperately prayed for a sign to know it was time, yet I knew that blood pressure was dangerously high. We had company over- Uncle Logan and Aunt Kelsey, Cathie and Doug (Kelsey’s mom and brother) and we packed our bags and left. I cried terribly when I left you. I think it was the unknown. Of course you wouldn’t even know we were gone, but how would you handle it when we came back with a baby?

We did come back that night, but it wasn’t with a baby. They monitored me for a couple hours. Still I was having very strong consistent contractions, but they weren’t putting me any further along. I had my first of many emotional breakdowns. How can a body go through 8 weeks of contractions and not be ready for a baby? How can I pretend like I’m tough enough to handle this when my back and my stomach are in knots from constant tightening, no sleeping, and just trying to get through these days? I knew I only had a few days left before being induced, but I was past my limit.

Labor day came and went. Secretly, I thought it would be really cool to go into labor on labor day. Didn’t matter. I accepted that fact that my baby was coming on Wednesday and that they’d have to put me into labor.

I woke up Tuesday morning- that’s a lie, I honestly didn’t sleep at all in order to ‘wake up’. I had again been up with terrible contractions, throwing up, and wondering if I was going to get through another day. I picked you out of your crib and started up the stairs. I took 5 steps up the stairs and my water broke. It was so different than it was with you. It was dramatic and extreme… a huge gush just like the movies.

We contemplated for some time about when to head to the hospital. My labor with you was long (15 hours) and while we knew the second was typically much shorter, that still could mean a 10-12 hour labor. Contractions started to pick up (I didn’t even know that was possible) and we headed in to labor and delivery for the second time in 3 days. There was no question that my water broke, and they admitted me fairly quickly. We had an amazing nurse and were so excited to know she’d be helping us meet your little brother that afternoon sometime- again, I should’ve known… don’t make plans.

They started me on pitocin just to get the contractions in a more consistent pattern. I was given the option for an epidural again, and I knew I’d take it, but wanted to let my body do the work for a bit in hopes it would go faster. I wanted to be in/out and back home to you as soon as possible. The contractions on pitocin were hard, just like they were with you, but I labored for 8 hours before getting the epidural. In the midst of all of this craziness, we were also dealing with buying a house. The closing was supposed to be Wednesday, and we knew we weren’t going to make that. We had to somehow get Power of Attorney papers signed by a notary and faxed back to the lender at the bank. We had to get a cashier’s check to the realtor, and we had to find someone to be at the closing for us. Pop-pop and Ammy helped so much, but your daddy still had to run around like crazy getting papers printed off, signed and faxed while I was in between contractions.

The anesthesiologist walked in to give me the epidural and she was this little intense biker chick (bicycle, not motorcycle). She had a bandana on, a broken finger in a cast, and her muscles were very prominent through her scrubs. In my last little bit of humor, I laughed at the thought of this hardcore chick giving me an epidural when she’s probably never even taken a tylenol in her life. It hurt. I don’t remember it hurting with you, but I squeezed your daddy’s hands and at one point almost screamed that I changed my mind and just wanted to keep this baby inside forever.

I didn’t go numb very quickly. With you, I couldn’t feel my legs or move them at all within 10 minutes of my epidural. They had to tell me when I was having contractions in order to push. This time, I felt like I could still walk and had a lot of feeling. It was now 2:00 and I still had made little progress. I feared that your little brother was too big and we’d be in the operating room at some point, but I pushed on for a regular delivery. I made it to 4 cm, and they decided to turn the pitocin up as much as they could in order to really get things going. At 7:00 p.m., they called in the doctor. Although I had the dramatic gushing when my water broke, the doctor found there was a tiny little sack of fluid around that baby, so she broke that and thought maybe that would get things going. I made it to 5 cm.

Hours went by. Every 30 minutes they would change my position. It was impossible to rest, yet they kept telling me that I needed to sleep because I’d been in labor so long and would still need strength to push. If one more person told me to sleep I was going to hop out of that bed, on my legs which were supposed to be numb and weren’t, and punch them right in the jugular.

My nurse left for the night, and we met our next nurse. Not to give a spoiler, but that next nurse wouldn’t deliver your brother either.

At 10:00 p.m., my body couldn’t take anymore and I had my second huge breakdown. I hadn’t slept, I hadn’t had anything to eat besides chicken broth and jello, and I was simply worn out. Turns out that while I was giving up on my strength, your brother also wasn’t taking it well. 3 nurses rushed in and started staring at the screen, flipping me one way and then the other. I was hooked up to oxygen and there were whispers around the room. I was terrified. They said that he was in distress from the lack of fluid or there was a possibility that his chord was wrapped around his neck and that’s why he wasn’t moving down. They made one more decision after consulting the doctor. They were going to insert a contraction monitor inside me, right next to your brother, and then with a tube, they were going to ADD fluid back. I didn’t even know this was possible. So you’re telling me that I’ve spent the last 14 hours losing fluid to have this baby and now you’re just going to stick it back in there? A short little chubby nurse came in with a raspy voice. In my mind she had a hairy mole on her face and reminded me of the witch trying to get snow white to eat the apple. I was still in the midst of my crying fest when the other nurse noticed the look of fear in my eyes. I started to ask questions and said I was scared that he wasn’t ok. The chubby little nurse looked at me, got all the supplies out, and said, “All I know is, I hope you have a good epidural.”

Breakdown number 3. I don’t know if I really had finished number 2, but now I really lost it. I ugly cried out loud for several minutes. I filled the oxygen mask with slobber and tears and pleaded with God to help me get through this. I yelled at that chubby nurse through my tears that I was already scared and the last thing I needed to hear was that she hopes I have a good epidural, because I don’t…I can feel everything, so take your chubby little fingers out of this room and get this figured out. She apologized, but I still don’t like her.

They added the fluids back in and we waited. It was now 11:30, and I started to realize that I was going to have this baby on the date of my induction one way or the other. At midnight, our nurse came back in, but her clothes were different and she was wearing ‘boots’. She had several papers in her hand. She calmly said that she was going to check me, but that we’d probably be heading to the OR to have a c-section. I had progressed 1 cm and I begged them to let me keep going. I don’t know why I was so anti-c-section, but in that moment I was. My body had failed me in every way possible, and I guess in the back of my mind, I needed to know I could do this. She called the doctor again and they said as long as the baby handles the contractions that we could try a little longer. They turned off the pitocin and just let me progress on my own, switching positions every 15 minutes now.

Around 12:45, I really started to feel everything. The contractions got terrible, I felt a ton of pressure, and I panicked that I was going to have a c-section and feel every little cut. I hit that little epidural button with every chance I got and made your dad check to see if it was ever actually turned on.

Our second nurse came in and said she was going home and introduced us to our third nurse. She was a little thing with a calming voice. The second nurse left, assuming I’d be in the operating room in a matter of minutes. I told the third nurse about the pain I was feeling and she checked me. I was at 9.5 cm! I tried to not get too excited, because with you, I was stuck at 9.5 cm for 6 hours. She turned the pitocin back on to see if I could get enough to be ready to push. I felt ready to push, but knew it was going to get worse and I wanted to be ready, I knew I didn’t have it in me to push for too long, I had nothing left.

I watched the clock tick, as each 15 minutes passed, I debated on hitting that red button and telling the nurse it was time, but I was so scared I wasn’t actually ready. At 1:45, I couldn’t take the pain and told her I wanted to push. She checked me and I was complete. I started pushing at 1:55 and soon after I started, she told me to stop so she could get the doctor. Praise the Lord.  I want you to deeply enjoy this next picture.  The best part about it is, I told myself that I would “look better” during this delivery so the pictures would be better.  Nailed it.

The doctor came in all disheveled. Her hair was a hot mess and you could tell she had just got up. She was surprised to hear that I was complete after all I’d been through. I pushed through one more contraction with her there and then they got ready. Two baby nurses came in, chubby was there- which still ticks me off, nurse number 3 was there, and the doctor was there. One more push and out he came at 2:28 am. The pain was unreal, but the sound of his cry was incredible. I didn’t cry, I think I was out of tears at that point. They put him on my chest and I couldn’t believe how big he was. They started to stitch me up and your daddy and I just stared at this little man that made our family complete. This little man that had surprised us from the very first pregnancy test all the way through delivery- all 20 something hours of it.

We named him Michael Joseph after both grandfathers (and your daddy, too). At this particular hospital, they don’t weigh or measure the babies right away, they have a golden hour where you can snuggle, breastfeed, just get to know your baby and then they do measurements, screenings, and a bath. However, after about 10 minutes, they all wanted to know how much he weighed, so they broke that rule and brought over the scale. In Colorado, most people have smaller babies due to the altitude. In fact, it’s not uncommon to have a 5 pound baby full term. Imagine their surprise when my 8 pound, 10.6 ounce butterball came bursting into the world- ok, not bursting, he took his sweet time.

They moved us up to a room in the Mommy-Baby section of the hospital, which was right upstairs where I delivered. I assumed we’d be there for a day and then get discharged. Well, I guess I still haven’t learned my lesson. Your next letter will give the details on the following days- including the first time you met him.

I don’t really know my plan with this blog right now, because now I have 2 babies to write to. I guess I’ll have to change the name to Dear Paxton and Michael. 🙂 I hope you don’t mind that I take up a little bit of your letter to write to your brother.

I love you,

Your Mom.

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Dear Michael,

Welcome to this crazy life and Happy Birthday! I’m sorry that it was a rough ride getting here. Please know that we will make it up to you with kisses, snuggles, and soaking in your sweetness every chance we get. I want you to know how much you do complete our family. We had no idea we were going to be blessed with you, and although it was a bit scary, we are so lucky that God picked us to be your mommy and daddy. You are simply beautiful. I know there are big plans for you and I want you to know that we’ll support those plans in any way we can. I can’t wait to learn your ways, watch you develop, and simply love you. I can’t wait to watch your big sister show you the ropes. I can’t wait to watch your daddy play with his little boy. Your mommy is a little crazy, she does things in a big way, but know that you will be loved in a big way too. Dream big, sweet boy.

I love you,

Your Mom.