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Last year at this moment it was my due date and I was going to be induced the next day at two o clock if nothing happened by itself. At 2:45 am my contractions started. I knew with the first one that this was the real deal - partly because Moses had started up his labor at exactly the same time 2.5 years before. There's just something about sharp pain in the middle of the night that assures a person that the stork is really trying to land this sucker tonight. Since the labors started at the same time I figured that they would be similar in duration, although a few hours shorter since this was my second and apparently the body becomes a pro at this human delivery event after the first time round.
I was thinking, "oh, a baby by dinner! Or maybe even a baby by lunch!" So, I calmly woke up my husband and my mother-in-law (that blessed woman!), and asked for some pancakes while I finished up a last minute planning. Then, in a rush of amniotic fluid, my plans changed. Never got a bite of pancakes. In fact, by the time I was walking down to the car the labor was so intense, oh who am I fooling?, so painful (no "sensations" or "pressure" for me, thank you - I'll just call a spade a spade) that I was totally unaware of who was helping me to the car. I have vague memories of someone saying, "it's OK, take your time. You can do it" but I can't remember who that person was. I do remember having at least 4 contractions just while walking to the car. Well, I got to the car eventually and somehow survived the wheelchair going over the bump, which felt like a giant pot-hole, to get into the elevator. I had abandoned all
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BUT (cue Bonanza theme music) the anesthesiologist came riding in on his white horse with a big needle and saved the day. And I gave birth at 6:46 am to a beautiful, huge, loud baby girl. The first girl on either side of the family (after 8 boys) in 26 years. Since, in fact, me.
One year later this little pumpkin has taken her first steps, is starting to give very unappetizing kisses, claps with great gusto whenever occasion permits, uses a little bit of sign language, has 7 teeth and is in-love, IN-LOVE with her brother and her daddy. She has had more colds this one year then I have had in 5 years combined and she even had a really bad unexplainable rash once (not a pleasant experience for a mommy who's own father lost a limb to a "bad rash" once...). She is silly, goofy and loves wrestling. She can also be a very good hugger, stretching her chubby little arms around your and snuggling her head into your neck. If you get one of these hugs you feel special for days afterwards. She makes going to mass a real...challenge.
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I am incredibly grateful for our little lady and for the place that she fills in our lives. Happy Birthday, Lily-girl!