Tomorrow, she will be four weeks old. Four weeks. And Saturday is her one-month birthday.
It takes my breath away thinking that all that time has passed already. There's so much to say to summarize the last nine months, and who knows if and when I'll have the time to recap here. Thankfully, I kept a hard copy journal, the old-fashioned way, to chronicle my pregnancy. What a journey.
I want to mark her milestones and mention every little thing, but before I get into those things--because I could go on forever--I want to write a bit about her birth.
Our baby boy or girl's due date was October 12. I liked that date once our doctor said it, but I knew very few babies actually come on their due dates, so I stuck with "early October" when people asked me when he or she was due.
Because of my blood disorder, I was classified high-risk, so we saw a very special doctor at OHSU who worked hand-in-hand with my blood doctor. A real dream team, if you ask us. We got to see our baby very often, with lots of doctor's visits along the way. As we approached September, the doctor told us we needed to pick a date to be induced. This caught us off-guard even though she said I wouldn't be allowed to go beyond my due date. October 12 was the natural response because we wanted the baby to have as long of a time in my belly as possible. So, Dr. Wyatt scheduled an evening induction the night of October 11. But, she said, she was going to try and get me into labor on my own before then.
So, I wrapped up things at work early, celebrating my last day September 16. I cried when I got home because I landed in the most amazing work group back in May. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive team or more creative and inspiring work to contribute to when finishing out my pregnancy. It seemed so weird to be done, not knowing what the next few weeks would bring.
I enjoyed every one of those days to the fullest. I slept without alarms, I ate healthfully and heartily, I worked out, went on long walks with Bowen, and cleaned every inch of the house. I stocked the fridge, freezer, and pantry, and I thanked God every day for the time leading up to our baby's birth.
Along with the doctor's orders of membrane stripping came extra fetal monitoring, early in the morning on the three Wednesdays before the due date. We got to see our baby blink in the womb and take "practice breaths," which only babies with extra energy take, they told us.
Yes, three Wednesdays. Little baby Bethell held out until the very end. We had one false alarm, which sent us up the hill to the hospital. I thought my water broke, but it didn't. At least we knew exactly where to go once it really came time...because that hospital tour we took about a month prior went right out the window the minute we headed in.
When we arrived, the staff welcomed us as if we were checking into a luxury hotel. "You must be Ms. Bethell?" It felt surreal. Our nurse, Catalina, walked us to our corner room, right across from the break room and snack closet (definitely came in handy). She explained how inductions work, as we really had no clue. She said the nurses and doctors have a toolkit of tricks to try and get the baby to come. It could be a long process, she said, lasting a couple of days. In fact, she said she didn't think we'd have our baby until October 13.
I settled in, took a pill, and Taylor and I went to sleep. When I woke up early in the morning, they gave me another pill and checked my body's progress. I can't remember exactly when, but the doctors decided to implant a balloon in my cervix, in an attempt to promote more dilation. Taylor and I took walks back and forth around the labor and delivery floor. There wasn't a lot of ground to cover, but it felt good getting up and moving. The nurse told us I was contracting every few minutes, but I still didn't feel anything. By mid-afternoon, the balloon fell out, the nurse started me on pitocin, and my body started responding rapidly.
The rest of the day and into early evening seemed like a blur. I experienced a couple hours worth of contractions, and the nurses quickly got the anesthesia team into our room. It didn't seem like I had labored long enough, based on the labor classes we took. I wasn't sure I was ready for the epidural, but they told me it was now or never. I chose "now," and thank God I did because as soon as the doctor checked my progress again it was time to start pushing.
I should mention Taylor ordered dinner before the epidural came, and it arrived right before I started pushing. I remember him trying to shovel down some food before the main event began. Our delivery doctor, Dr. Batman (you read that correctly), called in the attending physician and several other resident doctors and nurses. Because I delivered at a university hospital, we had probably eight or ten staff in the room when I started pushing.
I remember feeling great before I started pushing, and everyone was so encouraging. It only took a couple of pushes before the nurse said, "We see your baby's head, and it has a full head of hair." Taylor and I looked at each other and immediately started crying. It was so real all of a sudden. We picked up a conversation with the doctors in-between contractions and even missed a contraction because all of us--doctors included--were laughing so hard. I didn't know how long it would take during this pushing phase, and I remember wondering if the doctors were lying to me or if I really was "so close" to meeting our baby.
They weren't lying. After a half-hour of pushing, our baby popped out in a hurry, and the doctor placed him or her on my chest. I was crying and in shock at the beautiful baby in front of me. I looked at Taylor and asked if it was a boy or girl. He was crying, too, and said the doctor flung the baby on me so quickly he didn't see. They turned the baby over, and he said, "It's a girl." Neither of us could believe it.
I can't even write about the feeling. There are no words. We prayed and prayed for this baby, and here SHE was. Ten fingers, ten toes, a great hue of pink. A full head of hair. Her features were so small, her legs and arms so long. I just couldn't be happier. Or more exhausted. It took the doctors while to put me back together, but I didn't care. All I could think about was this new life that was part Taylor and part me.
Throughout my pregnancy, every co-worker, friend, family member, or stranger I met at the grocery store seemed to think I was carrying a baby boy. We even thought this baby was a boy for the majority of the pregnancy. Then, close to the end, I remember looking down at my belly and saying, "I bet you are a girl in there since everyone says you are a boy."
Taylor knew right away what we should name her, but I said I needed to sleep on it. We picked the name Fraser on our road trip over the summer, and Mary was my grandma's name (mom's mom).
There are so many other details to share, but our little Fraser just woke up, and I hear her calling for "mom."
