Vivian joins our crew.

The last time we talked, I was explaining to you all how I had broken my ankle.

A lot has happened since then.  So much, that I won't be able to tell you all about it in this post, so I'll just tell you that 10 days before Vivian was born, I got that damn boot off my broken ankle.  My mom was still staying with us and helping out.  Once I got my boot off, though, we all literally sat around and waited for the baby to evacuate my belly.  It was obnoxiously annoying. I was already 2 days "overdue" when the boot came off, so waiting for the baby was a part of our daily routine.  And, with those stupid false labor pains, I was tired of feeling like a side show at the circus where everyone is waiting for the climax impatiently.

So, I decided to pretend that the baby was going to permanently be in my belly (didn't work) and focus on our last few days of being a family of four.  I slowly went on one mile walks.  I went to the grocery store and took the girls to their dance lessons. I tried to soak in the fact that my two girls would not just be just two for much longer...they'd soon be three!

 On February 22nd, I went in for my weekly monitoring of the baby. Ever since the breaking of the ankle, I was scheduled for antepartum monitoring.  They'd strap me up to machines to check my blood pressure, heart rate, contractions (if any), and the baby's heartbeat.  Then, I'd have to go and get an ultrasound to make sure everything was going well in the baby house.  I won't lie, I dreaded monitoring.  I would have to pack up me, Julia, and my mom.  We'd try desperately to get to the appointment on time and then sit there and stare at each other while I'd wait to hear what I already knew--the baby was doing excellent.  On the 22nd, when the nurses reminded me that I was 41 weeks and 2 days and that the hospital had a policy of inducing at 41 weeks and 5 days, I was having some pretty hard contractions.  I was technically scheduled for an induction that day at 6:00AM, but I'd skipped it because I really wanted to go naturally and was contracting as it was.  When they did the ultrasound, they were concerned with the low amniotic fluid. They wanted to admit me right away. I said no.  There was no way I was going to be admitted and not go home, get my things, explain to Julia what was going on, eat some lunch, and make sure my mom and the girls were set for when we were in the hospital.  I had to sign a waiver saying I was leaving the hospital against medical advice (which I did gladly).  Evan came home from his office and we got ourselves ready, said good-bye to Julia (Ebeth was at school) and headed to Jimmy Johns (as is "Virginia is having a baby" tradition).

I arrived at the hospital around 3:30, I had a fabulously wonderful idea of how I wanted this baby to be born, but I am a super crunchy/hippie/earth mother about birth and knew I would need to be flexible coming into a military hospital.  The staff found my disinterest in being induced or having any pain medicine amazing...or rather, amazingly weird.  I did say I would agree to the smallest dose of pitocin but refused any pain meds. By 6:30, my contractions were really intense.  When it came time to push, it all came about so very fast.  I actually don't remember all of the details. I know it was more pain than I remembered with the other two.  I know that I was being told that the baby's heart rate was dropping and that I was given oxygen through a mask (which, once it was given, I realized I really needed). I remember wanting to tell the staff to quit calling me "Mama" (I hate that). When I finally pushed her out, there was a great rush to get her over to the incubator.  Evan told me later that she came out purple/blue; that she wasn't breathing; that they had to suck out her nose, throat, and rub her to get her to take that first breath.  I do know that when I opened my eyes finally (I always push with my eyes closed and don't open them unless Evan reminds me or until the baby is born), there were about 12 people in my room.  Yes, the hospital is a teaching hospital, but a lot of that staff was there as a just in case something goes wrong.  Kind of scary.

Vivian did give out a first cry, which sounded like a cat whose tail was being stepped on.

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She looks exactly like her sisters before her--lots of dark hair, perfect little lips.  Evan told me the same thing he told me when Julia was born when I finally pushed her out, "She looks just like Elisabeth; beautiful!"

Vivian joined our crew weighing in at 8lbs 3oz (my biggest baby!). She was born at 8:06PM (my only evening baby) and she seemed to decide she liked us right away. Evan drove to pick up the girls so they could meet their new sister and, of course, they loved her instantly.

My mom's reward for putting up with me for almost 2 months through a broken foot and a pregnancy that seemed to never want to end?  Being the first family member to meet Vivian.  Vivian was very excited to meet her Memaw.  :)

One of my favorite pictures of the girls:

Can I please tell you how excited I was to no longer be pregnant?  To actually be holding the baby who took her sweet time in joining our family?  Cause I was 41 weeks and 3 days when she was born. That's a long time to grow a baby.

And now, we're a family of five:

Vivian is now a month old and I just now am starting to feel like a human again.  Things are also starting to go back to normal again.  My mom flew back to Illinois on March 2nd and we slowly adapted back to our old routines (just with an extra person added to the mix).  I do spend most of my days sitting on the couch feeding a baby who seems to never tire of eating. But, one of the things that I've been itching to get back to was blogging. I've missed pouring out my thoughts to you people.  And now that I am no longer pregnant, my thoughts are more complete and coherent!

It's good to be back.  :)