Isabelle’s Birthday

You probably want to hear a bit about how Isabelle came into this world. Plus, I want to record it before I forget any important details. Although, her extreme cuteness already makes her birthday a bit hazy. That, and all the drugs.

We met with our doctor on Friday and he recommended an induction due to being almost a week overdue, potential size of the baby, and my overall mental well being. Sunday morning Jazz and I went to the hospital at 7 AM to be induced. All was going well, and by early afternoon I received an epidural. Man, that thing was heaven sent. I always wondered what it would feel like to have a numb lower half. Everyone- it feels weird.

We watched General Conference and Emperor’s New Groove and I complained about not being able to eat… I was starving. Like ravenous hungry mean starving. But Jazz was a good sport and kept me entertained.

By 4 pm I had progressed from 2 cms to 4 cms. Not great, but it was progress. By 6 pm, I was still a 4. By 8 pm, I was on maximum pitocin…and still a 4. We tried everything we could think of to get my body to progress, with no results. At 8 pm our doctor came in and discussed potential options, including a c-section. We agreed to give it until about 11 pm to see if I could progress anymore- even just one centimeter- before we decided on how to proceed. Though I was having steady contractions and was 100% effaced, at 11 pm I was still a 4.

At 11, we agreed that a c-section was the best method of delivery. And so I did what every disappointed laboring woman would do- I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. The really deep ugly cry. I felt so devastated, that my body had failed me, that all these women in the world could do this every single day- but I couldn’t. I felt so cheated out of a birth experience that I had always envisioned. I felt like I had carried this baby for the entire 40 week marathon, only to stop with the finish line in sight. And so I cried.

I was prepped and in the OR before I knew it, and soon Jazz joined my side. In a matter of minutes, our little purple baby was born, screaming her little lungs out. Jazz brought her over to me after she was cleaned off and wrapped up- I felt so relieved that she had arrived, that she was healthy, and it didn’t matter how she was delivered. After I was sewn up and back in recovery, I got to hold her. And she was perfectly pink and round and peacefully sleeping, and the c-section was the furthest thing from my mind.

I’ve thought a lot about the entire birth experience, and now, 9 days later, I feel at peace with everything. We don’t know why I didn’t dilate, although we found out Izzie was sunny side up and slightly twisted. Recovery has been as smooth as possible given the circumstances, and I have had a lot of great help from Jazz and my Mom. Thank goodness for percocet. I guess what I am staying is that 25 staples in my stomach are a small price to pay for such an amazing little blessing.

Since Isabelle was born, it has been non-stop baby time. She is so alert and awake sometimes and she looks at me with these big eyes, like she has known me forever. She has this dark fuzzy hair and its longer in the back and its so soft and fluffy. She doesn’t fit into any of her 0-3 outfits, since she is so small (when we left the hospital she was 6 pounds 9 ounces) so we just keep rotating the same four sleepers and onesies.

Sleeping is a series of naps at this point, but she is so adorable it doesn’t really matter. Jazz has been amazing throughout this experience. He held my hand during the epidural, and wiped my tears when I was being prepped for surgery. He gets up in the night when Izzie is fussy, and he makes sure I am eating and drinking enough. I literally could not have done this without him, I am so thankful to be married to such a selfless and giving person. Not to mention, watching him play with Isabelle is so precious I die a little bit every time I see them together.

I’ll leave you with just one picture. Because what is cuter than teeny tiny baby pants?