1 MONTH'

Elle started smiling at about 3 weeks old. She mostly does it randomly, almost as if by accident but will do it every now and then when stimulated too.
She had her first unscheduled doctor appointment at 4 weeks, one day shy of her 2nd month, due to fussiness and lots of straining. For two nights in a row she stayed up almost all day long and I stayed up with her. But by the second day I couldn't take the thought that she was comfortable so I Barry took the morning off, let me sleep awhile while he watched and fed Elle for me, and then we headed to the Doctors office.  They said the fussiness is common every now and then and that the straining is because she doesn't have the abdominal muscles like adults have which makes it difficult for babies to have bowel movements. They really have to try to have one so they stain but it doesn't mean the are in pain, as long as the poop is soft everything is okay and normal. Babies are just really animated about it. I'm hoping the grunting stops soon though. It breaks my heart!
Breastfeeding is going really well. I still sometimes have my days of panic when she wants to nurse all day or all night and I let myself start to believe shes isn't getting enough to eat and then panic that I'm not making enough and I'm going to fail at breastfeeding but judging by her last weight of 8lbs  which was up 2 pounds from birth, she's getting plenty to eat!
Burping she eats is now a regular thing as it not only prevents her from spitting up later but also prevents air from reaching her intestines all together which creates the gassiness which creates the straining which creates the fussiness!We also have to keep her upright for about 20 minutes after every meal to keep her from spitting up. The last few days have been really great as far as her mood and sleep patterns go and she has been much less grunty both while awake and asleep which  I believe is due to the post eating protocol we've adopted.
I'm still sleeping on the couch with her as the one and only time I tried to crib her last week, she was having one of her grunty nights and shes would have kept Barry awake all night through the baby monitor. I was sleeping in our bed with her after the couple of weeks of initially keeping her in the rock n play ended due to the grunting but then she began to grunt in the bed with me too so now I sleep on the couch with her every night and Barry takes the bed. i figure its only fair that he gets a good night sleep since he has to wake up and go to work every day.
My self diagnosed PPD is much better now too since I've finally made arrangements for Elle when I return to work. My grandma will watch her Thursday and and Friday morning and my Mom will keep her Friday afternoon until I get off and pick her up. And Mercury had allowed me to work from home part time Mon-Wed. My PPD is night and day now compared to how it's been. I was crying almost all day every single day for the first 2 weeks. Then 2-3 times a day during week 3 and 4 and now I'm basically care free. except for when Elle does something adorable. Or when something scary happens. Or when I get lost in a magical, happy Elle/pregnancy related thought. :) I'm so thankful for her!

My Birth Story.

On January 20th as I made my way home from the office, I called my Mom to tell her I wasn't "feeling right." I'd been having mild contractions all day that were going back and forth from irregular to regular with a couple of stronger ones sprinkled in periodically and I felt like the baby was sitting really, really low. My contractions had been about every 2-5 minutes lasting any where from 30-60 seconds each, so nothing to really write home about, but definitely time-able. I remember my Mom saying, "maybe tonight is the night!" But she'd said that to me a couple weeks prior, when I had been having regular contractions nearly the entire day, so I didn't think too far into it. I was still very calm about the pregnancy coming to a close and was on the fence about wanting it to be over.. I was so ready to meet baby Elle but at the same time, we had worked so hard to become pregnant and to me, it just didn't seem to last long enough. My emotions were bittersweet. Even with having two weeks left to go I decided to see if I could at least get the ball moving a little bit by walking on the treadmill at work in the mornings and bouncing on my birthing ball at night. The bouncing also relieved my back and hip pain so I figured it was a win win. I began on Monday. I walked a 2 miles that morning and bought the birthing ball later that evening from Target.

 Tuesday morning I walked a mile and then another half mile that afternoon. That evening, after finishing up showers and dinner, Barry and I finally installed the car seat and loaded the hospital bag in into my car. I told my belly, "you can come out now. We officially have everything ready for you." I had even jokingly told Barry, "watch, she'll come now that the car seat is installed!" Because it had been something we'd been procrastinating for a couple of weeks.

 Afterwards I bounced on the ball for about 2 hours while I watched TV. Wednesday morning, I walked yet another mile and had planned on bouncing for at least an hour later on that night. After finishing up our nightly routines, I turned the TV onto Addicted to Rehab on HGTV, and began bouncing on my birthing ball. However, after only about 30 minutes into it, I could tell my contractions had picked up in both duration and strength and I all of a sudden, I felt sort of crampy. Almost like I had to pass gas.  I stood up and tried to break wind but couldn't. So I sat back down on the ball but found it a bit uncomfortable to bounce  because of how low in my pelvis the baby felt. I decided to take a short break from bouncing and got up to sit on the couch for a little while. Just when I did, I felt like I needed to use the restroom. I pushed and pushed to no avail when all of a sudden I felt it! "Holy shit!"  I called out to Barry, "I think I just lost my plug!"
After standing in the bathroom and discussing the amount, color, and texture of which I saw , because you know, us women find details very important, we both excitedly made our way back to the living room. Barry returned to the couch and I my birthing ball however this time I didn't bounce. I just rocked and swayed from side to side, making large circles and figure eights with my hips as I'd read online that it's a good way to not only open up your hips but also to get the baby in position for birth. A few minutes into this, again, I felt the need to pass wind, so I stood up, still hovering over my birthing ball and pushed. Just then I felt a POP!!! And then felt a decent gush of fluid. My first thought was, 'great, I just peed myself' since it's quite normal towards the end of pregnancy to loose a little bit of bladder control and I'd already had it happen to me on a few occasions.  I immediately stopped pushing but continued to feel fluid coming out. Right then I knew!!
I yelled out to Barry,  "SHIT!! MY WATER JUST BROKE!"  as I ran, sort of hunched over, to the bathroom. It must have been quite a sight to see! Upon entering the bathroom, I couldn't get my pants peeled down fast enough before another gush landed on the floor right in front of the toilet. I plopped down and couldn't believe what sounded like the longest, record breaking pee ever. Barry had jumped up off of the couch and ran right behind me stopping in the hallway and gazing into the bathroom at me in shock and amazement. Once I realized he was standing there watching me we both just stared at each other half crying and half laughing. I had been so afraid that my water would break without him and that I would have to tell him the story of how it happened. After everything we'd been through, I really didn't want that for us. So needless to say, I felt elated that we were together to witness one of the most amazing parts of pregnancy.  I thought I had a pretty good idea of what it would be like as far as the amount of fluid that would come, but I clearly did not!  Fluid just kept coming out and coming out. It was like peeing but having no control over it. Every time I thought it was nearly done, more would come right behind. Barry noticed the puddle by my feet and grabbed some soapy water and paper towels to clean it up with. As he did we couldn't stop gabbing over how unbelievable and amazing all of this was. After about 5 minute of us sitting there laughing, I told him to grab as many towels as possible and to line the seat in my car in with them. "WHAT? Why?" he exclaimed. "Because this is going to keep coming out. Its not going to stop!" I told him.
God Bless him! He had no idea. And truth be told, I didn't have much of a clue either, though 10 minutes prior I would have probably told you I did. I thought it would just keep trickling. Boy was I wrong. Little did I know at the time,  it would continue to gush for the next 19 hours that I was in labor! After calling my Mom from the toilet to tell her my water broke and then waiting a bit for it to die down, I was finally able to get up and hobble/waddle around the house to gather last minute things, like clothes, snacks, camera bag, cell phone chargers, etc all while holding a a towel in between my legs. About 15 minutes from the time my water broke, we hopped in the car and made our way to the hospital. On the way there I called my Dad and brother to let them all know that were were headed to the hospital to have a baby!!! I remember realizing about half way there that it was Wednesday and saying to Barry, "eww! it's Wednesday! She can't be born on a Wednesday! She's a Friday or Saturday baby for sure!" We were both in total disbelief that the day, or night rather, had finally arrived!!
When we pulled into the parking lot of the Family Birth Place at Saint Vincent's Southside I got out of the car still fashioning a  towel still in between my legs when I felt another really huge gush. I had no idea what to do so I just wrapped the towel around my waste and grabbed Barry's hand as we made our way inside. With each step I took, a gush of fluid would follow. In the elevator I stared down at my feet just waiting to be standing in a puddle. For safety reasons, you have to be buzzed into the Labor and Delivery ward upon telling the receptionist through a camera and microphone on the wall beside the door why you are there. Hearing the words leave Barry's mouth, "my wife's water broke and I think we are in labor," was music to my ears. We were buzzed back, I was put in a wheel chair, and given a few documents to read over and sign and within minutes we were shown to our labor and delivery suite. I looked around the room, taking it all in, thinking to myself, 'this is where Elle will be born. This is the first room she'll ever see. This is the first scent she'll ever smell.'
After setting down our stuff I quickly made my way to the bathroom as it didn't feel right to just stand there, fully dressed, while continuing to leak fluid every where. Plus the nurse had asked me to give a Urine sample. I asked her how I was suppose to do that given my situation and she told met to just do the best I could.  As I sat there collecting probably mostly amniotic fluid, I gazed around the room at the walls, and the tiles on the floor, still in disbelief, but trying to take in as much of my surroundings as best I could. Then I heard a familiar voice enter the room and greet Barry. It was my Mom! I was so, so excited to hear her and know she was there. The already surreal moment became even more surreal. This was happening!

 I finished up and with Barry's help, suited up into my lovely, pretty pink maternity hospital gown they provided me with, walked out of the bathroom and gave my Mom a huge hug. As much as I wanted to walk around the room, I was confined to the bed where they had laid out an absorbent blanket for me to sit on.

A short time later, a couple of nurses came in, one to get my IV going and another to stand there ask me a barrage of questions regarding family and medical history and the moments leading up to my water breaking. My Dad had also come up to visit but was only there for about an hour or so before realizing that we were in for a long night. So he went home to get some rest and said he'd be back in the morning.

 After getting me all checked in and into their computer system, starting an IV, and getting the monitors around my belly, they checked my cervix. At around midnight, I hadn't started dilating yet so they said they would give me Cytotec to soften my cervix which would help it to dilate. The nurse put two pills in, one on each side of my cervix, and said I'd be bedridden for two hours, and afterwords they'd come back in to check me and see if I'd progressed. I asked her about any potentials side effect I'd feel from the Cytotec and she told me some people feel period-type cramps but I shouldn't feel much more.  Because it was late, and we knew it was going to be quite a while until I was any where near ready to push, we decided to get some rest. Barry laid down on the couch, I laid back in my bed, and my Mom went to the waiting room to sit with my Aunt who had just arrived. The lights were dimmed and I laid there, staring at the ceiling tiles, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to fall asleep with what was on the horizon.  I felt that if  just laid  there and allowed my body the rest is needed, I'd be okay and hopefully have the strength to the push when the time came.
About ten minutes later, the cramps I was forewarned about came on. The first one came then a second and then third. A few minutes later I noticed they were coming in waves and were not as constant as period cramps. I'd feel one coming on gradually, it would peak, and then almost completely go away before I'd feel another. They really felt nothing like period cramps. They were undeniably different. And they were beginning to get really uncomfortable. It was then I remember thinking, "are these contractions?" A few minutes into it, the waves were growing bigger and lasting longer and were downright painful and I knew without a doubt what was going on. I called out to Barry who got up from his couch and came and sat on the side of my bed. I explained to him what was going on and he asked if I wanted the nurse to which I declined and just requested my Mom. A few seconds later he escorted my Aunt Sandy and my Mom into the room. Before I knew it, all three of them were surrounding my bed, softly stroking me and calmly reminding me to breathe as laid there, still confused since I was told that the medicine would only produce some mild cramping and what I was feeling were full on contractions.. But because this was my first time and I had never actually felt real contractions before, I found it hard to trust myself and wondered if anyone in the room even believed how much pain I was in. One thing I did know was that these weren't period cramps, these were waves of tightening pain! This was it. I was in labor!
At some point, the nurse came in, although I'm not sure if by chance or if my family had her paged. We all tried to tell her what had been happening but I got the feeling she wasn't taking me seriously. I'm not sure if it was the looks she kept giving me, or her body language.. For all I know it was all in my head, but I felt like she didn't believe me. As if I had a reason to make stuff up at a time like this. Like I said, I had a hard time even trusting myself at this point. How do you go from laughing and having a good time one minute, and 15 minutes later, feeling like you're in active labor when I was never even warned that the Cytotec could act as a labor inducer. In a room full of support I felt beside myself. Panic and paranoia crept in as I wondered if my family and my even own husband believed me.The nurse asked if I'd like something to take the edge off to which I happily and nearly desperately agreed to. She brought me a pill in a small plastic saucer along with a small cup of water. Within minutes I felt slightly impaired and giggly but was still in every bit of pain I was in prior to taking the medicine. A few more minutes went by, as did a few more contractions; still unbelievably growing more and more painful and by this point, I went from sad, sappy introverted Candace, to pissed off, "what the fuck did you do to me?" Candace. I was pissed that all she gave me was something to make me loopy. I hate feeling that way to begin with, and at a time when I want to be right in the head  if nothing more than for memory's sake and for the seriousness of the situation, I was so upset that I was given a drug that made me feel the way it did. And the worst part, was even though I was mad, most of my emotion was being portrayed as the opposite because it was making me so giggly. I already felt like I wasn't being taken seriously. Try explaining to someone your upset and in a lot of pain all while cutting a grin and fighting back your urge to laugh and see how serious they take you. Finally though, even through the loopiness of the Staydol I was given, I think while explaining this to my family, I was able to cry a little bit which had made my argument a little more believable. I wanted nothing more than for someone to acknowledge the pain I experiencing. I don't know why this became so important in my mind but it was certainly front and center in mine for some time.
 As the minutes went on, my distress became more and more apparent. I never in my wildest dreams imagined labor being as painful and exhausting as it was. I can't tell you how many times I told whoever in the room was listening, "I can't do this. It's too much. I can't do this anymore." I distinctly remember thinking I was going to die.I would feel the contraction coming and voice it so that my supporters knew. "here it comes. Okay, here is comes. It's happening." Then I'd deeply inhale as though it was to be my very last breath on earth and I'd hold onto it until being reminded to let it go. The only thing I could concentrate on was the pain, and thinking in the back of my mind I was either going to faint, shit my self, or just die. I'd feel the full weight and girth of the contraction  overtake me like a rogue wave. I was drowning. I didn't just feel the pain in my belly but all over. The only way I can describe it is that it felt similar to the stomach spasms one feels during a severe bout of diarrhea and then times that feeling by at least a hundred or so. Each contraction would peak for about a minute, give or take, and with each one I'd drift in and out of  self awareness. I could almost feel my spirit leave the shell of my body and return after the contraction had begun to loosen it's grip on me. It became so intense an hour or so into labor, that I felt like with each one, I was going to vomit, and not just the contents of my stomach, but my stomach in it's entirety and everything else it's immediate vicinity. At one point I had even told someone I wanted to jump out of the window. For the most part I remained in the bed, I think. A few times I stood on the floor and leaned over the end of it. I have memories of someone rubbing my back and someone else wiping my forehead with a cold, wet cloth while trying to keep the hair out of my face that had escaped it's disheveled confinement. According to Barry, at one point I had broke wind so loudly and so foul smelling, that he was tempted to lift my gown and make sure it was only wind. According to him, I was so lost in the moment of the contraction that I was blatantly unaware of what I'd done, even with a room full of supporters, doctors, and nurses I didn't bat an eye about it. I was too focused on surviving the next contraction. To my surprise, this went on for about 3 or 4 hours. Looking back, it doesn't seem possible that it lasted that long and that someone could live through such pain for that length of time, but I guess it wouldn't to a person who was close to blacked out for a lot of it. If asked, Barry would be the first to tell you that it felt every bit of that long though, if not longer.
During all of this, the nurse would periodically check in on me and look over my fetal monitoring strip to make sure Elle wasn't in distress. Just as I began to think I absolutely couldn't take anymore, I heard the nurse say, "I'm going to go call her doctor and get the "okay" to give her an epidural." I had always envisioned myself asking for one and I remember thinking it odd that she made the decision for me even though I had absolutely ZERO reservations on getting one.  A little while later, a doctor, anesthesiologist, and a nurse all came in and asked everyone to leave except for Barry. They had me cradle a pillow in the fetal position while sitting on the edge of the bed. They put a chair beside the bed and had me put my feet on it and told Barry to sit in the chair, facing me, on top of my feet. I guess to help keep me steady. They put what felt like a huge sticker across my lower back and cleaned off a little portion with what I assume was either alcohol or iodine. Because this part was slightly traumatic it's hard for me to remember the exact details of the epidural but I'll try my best.
I continued laboring and contracting while they conversed and got the drugs and equipment ready. Then one of them told me to let them know when I felt a contraction coming on then dying down. I guess that way they'd have the most time to get the epidural placed before I had another contraction. I sat there, my face buried in my husband's shoulder. "Here it comes. It's coming." I said frantically.  "Okay. Let us know when you start to feel it ebb."  I don't know if it was the light so bright at the end of the tunnel and knowing relief was on the way or if it was the position I was forced to sit in, but that contraction was probably the worst one. My whole body felt ablaze and on verge of death. A minute or so later I announced I could feel it fading and then following a brief countdown by the doctor I felt the needle enter my back. It paled in comparison to the pain I'd been in for the last few hours but with that said, it wasn't just a wham bam thank you ma'am event. They had to move it around in my back until they got it in it's correct location. That part hurt. Badly. As he moved the needle around in inside my back he kept asking me what I felt. Did I feel pain more on the left or right, what kind of pain, how bad was the pain? Finally when they were satisfied with my answers they taped it in place and removed the needle, leaving only the tube behind. After they removed the big sticker feeling object from my back and cleaned me up, I announced that I was pretty sure it was starting to work. Realizing I could actually talk through a contraction was so satisfying I nearly cried. I felt restored. But the alleviation was short lived when I realized that half of my body wasn't as numb as the other side. And as time grew so did to the gap in different feelings between my left and right side. If I recall correctly it was my left side that was still pretty "awake" compared to my right. After mentioning this to the nurse and explaining how it felt in detail to the anesthesiologist, they decided to remove the epidural and try again with a new one. I was devastated. I seriously didn't think I could go through with another one but I knew there was NO way I could keep one side of me "awake" during the rest of this labor so I agreed to another try. I was terrified at this point about the next outcome possibly remaining the same and being unable to handle it but the doctor made it very clear that they had way more drugs in that hospital than I had pain, and they would do everything they could to keep me comfortable.
So again, I was sat up and instructed to sit on the edge of the bed, only this time I was told by a new nurse to hug the pillow into my chest instead of just leaning over it. This turned out to be a much more comfortable position and made the whole experience a little better. The new nurse was really sweet and even held my hand as the epidural was being placed. As a matter of fact both the doctor and anesthesiologist were both different too. Thank God for shift change and for those new doctors because the second epidural was placed with no issues. After everything was said and done, I leaned back in the bed and felt both sides of my body from the waist down go completely numb. I was later told that a dry labor, which is what they call it when your water breaks before labor has started,  is much more painful and intense than when your water breaks much later into labor. I was so thankful for that bit of knowledge. I finally felt understood.

 By now it was about 6 or 7am and Barry and my aunt had left to go get breakfast, leaving my Mom to stay behind with me. After arriving to the hospital I wasn't allowed to drink or eat anything except for ice chips so of course everyone's Chickfila smelt so much better to me than it probably actually tasted everyone else eating it. But to be honest, nothing including the labor was getting me down. This was the day I'd been waiting on and thought would never ever happen for the last 4 years. I took it all in stride as I'd made a promise to God and myself during IVF that if he let it happen and allowed me to get and stay pregnant, I wouldn't complain about a single pregnancy-related thing and that I would do my very best, to be the most loving, patient, thoughtful, selfless mother I could be. And up until that point I had done a pretty fine job at holding up my end of the bargain and I wasn't about to disappoint Him!
After everyone finished their breakfast my Aunt left to go feed and let our dog out and my Mom, Barry, and I decided to finally get some shut eye.

 I think we all slept for 2-3 hours or so when the nurse came in and finally put in my catheter. Afterward she checked the computer she asked me to roll to my right side because the baby didn't like me being on my left side. This marked the beginning of the very frequent and long checks on Elle by my nurse. She would come in about every 30 minutes and sit in the stool next to my bed, staring at the monitors and her computer screen. I assumed everything was fine since I was never told otherwise. At some point during the late morning hours, I was put on oxygen. I hated how scary it made such an amazing situation seem. I was less then thrilled about wearing it.

Again, I wasn't really told why I needed it, just that is was precautionary. I was eventually checked again, this time by my OB and was told that I had progressed all the way to a "3 or a 4." Not sure why it wasn't one or the other, unless it was maybe just in the middle but I remember going with 4 in my head and being proud of the progress I'd made thus far even though it took several hours longer than I thought it would. Alongside the pride and excitement was apprehension and fear. Why was I not further along? Over the next couple of hours, more and more family arrived and the nurses continued to check in on Elle very frequently and also continued shifting me back to my right side.
Around 4:30pm I thought I was beginning to get a little tiny bit of feeling back in my left leg so I told my Mom about it but also told her that I wasn't totally sure; it just felt a little weird. Several minutes later, it was pretty clear that I was regaining feeling. I asked the doctor if it was possible for the Epidural to wear off after so many hours of labor and she said, "in the best case scenario, no. But it does happen sometimes. " I told her that I was certainly getting feeling back again and showed her the parts of my leg that I could feel and she told me to lay on my left side for a little bit to try and get the medicine to drain to that side of my body. After a few seconds of this, she abrublty put me back on my right side and returned to her monitor where again, she stood and stared intently and quietly. Laying there, I began to panic about my epidural wearing off and how I would have to continue to labor and push with complete feeling in one side of my body because by now, I could pretty much feel everything down my left leg from my toes up to mid thigh. She advised me to keep smashing the button that would administer an extra dose of drugs into my system but it would only allow me to push it every 30 minutes. A wave of panic rose up from within in me as I remembered I was on a Pitocin drip that was turned up to 19 by that point. I was deathly afraid of feeling another contraction. Especially a Pitocin contraction.  When my Mom and I began to ask her about my options she went and got the anesthesiologist.

 We talked to him for a few moments and he told us that the baby was beginning to not tolerate the Pitocin and contractions so well so they didn't really want to do another epidural. Right around this time the nurse wanted to check to see if I'd progressed anymore at all. I don't recall getting an actual number from her. My memory gets really fuzzy again around this time frame. But shortly after trying to discuss our pain management options, about 3 or 4 nurses rushed in and started moving me from side to side. I was terrified as not one single person told me what was going on other than, "The baby isn't happy in this position." They tossed me around like a rag doll for several minutes. At one point even tilting the head of the bed downward and leaving me inverted for a few seconds. I looked over at Barry just as someone had thrown him a pair of scrubs and told him to put them on immediately. And then looked over at my Mom who was staring helplessly back at me before giving Barry a hand with his surgical shoe coverings. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw a doctor run into the room and ask, "what are you doing?!" Someone mumbled something back to her when she sternly barked the order, "WE HAVE TO GO NOW!" My eyes shifted from one face to the next. Everyone including the staff looked just as panicked as I felt inside. The anesthesiologist hurridly unplugged me from the machines and from what I could tell, just in time from them being yanked across the room along with my bed that the nurses were quickly trying maneuver out of the door way.  It was nothing less then chaotic. Almost like a scene from a movie. In a panic, I told my family bye as they wheeled me out into the hallway. I heard someone reassure me that Barry would be allowed back just as soon as they got me me situated. Upon entering the OR I was transferred from my bed to a cold hard table. There were doctors and nurses running in every which direction like something from a busy, colorful page of a Doctor Seuss book. It was too much to handle so I just kept my eyes on my anesthesiologist whom we will just name Bob for the sake of not have to type " anesthesiologist"  anymore. He walked from the head of my bed to the side and pricked my belly a few times and my legs and asked if I had any feeling and if so to what degree. I told him I felt everything, as clear as day. He pushed some more medicine into my line, waited a few more moments and began his poking and prodding and once more asked me if I felt anything to which I replied the same as before, "I still feel everything." He glanced around the room, assessed our predicament, and then looked back at me and said, "we are putting you under. The drugs aren't working fast enough and we have to get your baby out now."
A moment later, like an angel from above, a soft spoken, blonde haired nurse came over and said to me from behind her surgical mask her name and everything that was happening around the room. She then informed me that in the event my baby needs to be resuscitated, she would be the one to do so and that she would be in charge of her caring for her while she was in the NICU. Upon hearing those words, tears began to cloud my vision as I stared passed her and up to the heavens. I begged God to let Elle and I make it through this and told him that I would do anything in the world if he'd just see to it that she be delivered safe and sound. Then I heard Bob tell me that since they were putting me under, Barry wouldn't be allowed in the room but he put his hand on my shoulder and told me that I was in good hands and not to worry. I starred back at Bob until I felt the room go peacefully quiet and dark.

Elle was born January 21st, at 5:21pm. She was 20 inches long and weighed  6 pounds and 1 ounce.

It wasn't until a few days later, during a conversation with my Mom, that I learned the doctors had lost Elle's heartbeat on the monitors. That's why they kept flipping me and moving me from side to side and why it was so imperative that they get her out immediately. I'll never know if it was a mechanical error or if her heartbeat really stopped because of the distress she was in from the 19 hours of labor and high dose of Pitocin I'd been on for so long. But knowing that we could have lost her leaves me heartbroken. Just the thought is too much to bear. Too heavy to emotionally conceive. I try not to even let my mind go there.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room. A nurse came over and told me that surgery went textbook perfect, and Elle was doing great and that I'd be able to see her shortly. Her and few other nurses were all quite surprised to see me awake so soon. I later found out that from the time they put me under until the time I woke up, was only about 20 minutes or so. No wonder they were all a little shocked! They gave me a cup of ice and told me that as long as I could keep it down, they would take me back to my room where I'd meet back up with Elle and my family. In the meantime they let Barry back to keep me company. I was so happy to see his face.  He hopped up in the bed with me and took his phone from his pocket. Due to being so heavily medicated, I had no idea what he was doing. He then swiped open his phone and showed me, for the very first time, pictures of our daughter.

 I was completely mesmerized. She was absolutely perfect. So happy and smiley and beautiful in every single picture. I couldn't believe it. She was here. Safe and Sound.
 My new priority became getting out of that recovery room as quickly as possible to be with her. Even through the thick sedation, I powered through that cup of ice chips and after about an hour from the time I had woken up, I was wheeled back to my maternity suite where my family was already waiting. The room was rich with emotion. The drugs were making it so incredibly hard to keep my eyes open and I remember apologizing frequently, mid conversation, for having to close them a few moments. I kept getting told to take a short nap but it just wasn't going to happen. A really sweet nurse had come in a few times to check on me and look at my vitals and kept informing us that Elle would be ready soon. But by the second or third time, I was practically pleading with her to please bring me my baby! It was just after 9:00, 4 hours after she'd been born, when the nurse finally entered my dimly lit room, wheeling in the small bassinet that was carrying the little life we had created. She stopped just short of my bed and sat Elle up and removed the blanket from her.

 Then she lifted her up out of her bassinet and made her way across the room. Time stood still. In that moment it was only Elle and I. We were absolutely the only two the room. In the world. In the entire universe. She handed me her tiny little body.

 I had no idea how to hold a baby but I instantly knew how to hold Elle. I took in everything about her. Her soft skin, her big bright eyes, her hair, more bountiful than I expected, her very long fingers and big feet. I then noticed her toes and thought, "Oh thank goodness, you got your Father's toes! Awe! You got his sweet little nose too!" As I was holding her the nurse began unlacing the top of my gown and took Elle from me and positioned her on my chest to nurse. I was slightly taken aback thinking, "really? with everyone in the room watching us?!"  Immediately she latched on! I'd never been more impressed in my life.

 I was so blown away at the beauty of nature; and the beauty of her. She was a pro! I quickly realized that no one in the room thought it was disgusting or inappropriate and in fact, we were cheered on. At one point the nurse or someone told me that I was doing a really a good job. "Psshhh, I have no idea what I'm doing! It's all her. . She's making us both look good!" I sat there so content in that present, magical moment that so serenely surrounded all of us there in that room. After a few minutes passed, Elle had fallen asleep and I just couldn't take it anymore. I needed to see more of her, so I took her from my chest and held her out in front of me. Again taking in every little little inch that I could see through my droopy, cumbersome eyelids.

 Mentally digesting how her tiny little diaper seemed to swallow her even tinier body. Her long, skinny legs, and the way her skin wrinkled up around her knee caps. The blueish hue to her velvety soft feet. How surprisingly long her finger nails were. Her sweet petite frame and her little ribs. Her sweet cheeks and perfectly shaped ears. Her pretty tanned skin and beautiful complexion. I was more in love than I'd ever felt before. My heart could have exploded at any moment and to this day, I feel nothing short of that feeling every single time my eyes and hers meet. It was about an hour passed visiting hours when my family left the hospital.  It was such a strange feeling. Part of me was glad to finally be alone with Barry and Elle and the other part of me was screaming inside, begging them not to leave and wondering how in the world we were suppose to take care of this beautiful creature all on our own for an entire night!
The first night at the hospital was a busy one. After getting a bath, nurses continued to check on us every two hours.

I was instructed to feed her at least every two hours to help my milk come in. I was finally given graham crackers and jello to eat which I was ridiculously excited about. It was to be my first "meal" in a day and a half! Needless to say, we didn't get much sleep that night. It's hard to sleep when you can't stop starring at the prettiest, most precious thing you've ever seen in your life.

We ended up spending another night in the hospital and were released on Saturday afternoon.
It snowed that day. Yes. In Florida! I'll never forget it for as long as I live. Elle wore a purple fleece footie adorned with rainbows and penguins (the one shown below) on her exit from the care protections of professionals that had surrounded us for the past 48 hours.

 I of course sat in the back seat with her on the way back home. The feeling of walking into our house was filled with both joy and fear. I couldn't help but walk around and wish to rewind back to the moment my water broke and relive every part of the past 72 hours again. I also couldn't believe that we had this tiny little being that we were solely responsible for keeping alive and well for the days and years to come.

 The last 4 years have certainly thrown Barry and I some curve balls. I often think about our previous pregnancies and how old our children would be had they survived; the things they would know by now, and who they would be. The past no longer saddens me though as I know without it, I wouldn't be who I am today and it wouldn't have brought Elle and I together. I'm so glad God gave her to me to take care of and teach, and to love unconditionally for all eternity. I know there will be days where she gets under my skin, and she'll eventually reach an age where she wants me in her life as little as possible in the most loving and natural teenagersish way and I'm okay with that. I'll never stop being thankful for her and for all of the events that led up to her.
This is OUR story and I'm proud to call it that.