Georgia.

I'm laying on my living room floor, playing with my five-month old baby when I realize I never posted the entry I wrote about a month after her birth. So here it is. Fair warning, it IS a birth story, though I don't think I'm leaving in any weird or gory details.

I remember standing in that bathroom. It was morning and I was staring at that little plus sign. I couldn't believe it. I only took the test on a whim, this weird feeling that said, "just do it." And there it was. There she was, though I didn't know it. I didn't know what to do, I sat on the edge of the tub, I jumped up and down, I started shaking with adrenaline. When I finally was able to tell Jonathan we held each other, laughed, and (I) cried. All through those nine months it'd hit me at random times during the day, "Oh my gosh, I'm going to be a mom."

I thought the same thing that Wednesday night when around midnight I finally laid down to go to sleep. That first contraction hit me like a train. It took the breath right out of me, and I knew that instant, this is it. After a few hours at home and letting Jon get some sleep, the nurse told us to come in. I was sure we'd be sent home after an evaluation, it didn't feel like things were progressing enough, but we didn't leave that room for the next 16 hours. I remember walking around and around that room, looking out across the valley, trying to remember to breathe and be calm and save my energy. I would set weird goals to see how much I could take. It was kind of stupid, but it was a good way to pass the time. Laying in bed was impossible, the pain was tripled compared to walking around. Then the sky slowly started to lighten. That's how I marked the time passing, I remember refusing to look at the clock, I would just notice the changes in the sky.

Around the time the sun started to rise, we were informed that my doctor's on-call shift was about to end. They were going to call him and tell him my situation so he could give instruction as to what he wanted them to do for me. The nurse left and I felt a little let down, but I knew I'd have to let it go quick if I was going to stay focused on what had to be done.

Those hours were a blur. I know the pain was crazy, but I wasn't that worried about it. My doctor gave instruction to break my water because I wasn't progressing quickly enough. After almost 9 hours I got the epidural, which was a breeze! Too many women like to tell horror stories about the needle, but that guy was in and out in no time, and I was left sitting there like..... uh....it's done?? I still felt pretty much everything except for pain which was the sweet spot. Woot! Woot!

Dark clouds came and covered valley a few hours later. I was steadily progressing. This was the boring part. Nurses came and went through this whole event, and I don't even remember the most of it. I remember a ton of ice chips being handed to me, but after three months of craving them like a crazy person, I had no interest. The cups piled up on my side table and I watched the little line graphs go up and down. Every  time I saw a contraction I kept thinking, "Hah! Sucker, you don't even hurt." I missed the yoga ball, but I was comfortable. Later on in this stage we were told that even though my doctor was on his day off, he was coming in to deliver Georgia anyway. (He lives just down the street for a reason.)  Insert huge smile from me!

It was raining by the time I was ready to push. All was calm, just Jon and the delivery nurse (who turned out to be the sister of a friend!) with me as the rain pelted down. I stared out the window between the first few pushes and tried to keep up conversation with them, but after a awhile I stopped responding to whatever it was that they were discussing. (Medical school. Pshh. Figures). Two flipping hours, but it felt like no time at all. I got scared in that time. A big part didn't want to push anymore because my mind kept telling me it was impossible! There was no way this was physically possible! I had to sort it out in my mind that it had to happen, but I was so tired.

At this point I have to stress, I have a deep respect for nurses and all they do. They are incredible and I loved mine like family that day. But I have to tell you, there was no relief so great as when I saw my doctor walk in. I know. He wasn't there all night, coaching me, getting me what I wanted to sip, and laughing at my stupid jokes, but he walked in and I was so happy to see him. If not for any other reason, he's a stake president and if anything went wrong, I had two awesome men there to give me or the baby a blessing if we needed it. I remember him grabbing my arm and looking in my eyes, "You're going to do this. All you."

I am not kidding when I say this; It was raining buckets until the very second Jon said, "Baby, she's almost here!" Right then the clouds broke and the sun came streaming in. I remember because I was trying desperately to keep my eyes open. I didn't want to miss a second of seeing my girl. The cord was wrapped around her neck so Jon had to cut it before she was completely out. Then there she was. They brought her up to me so I could hold her on my chest. She was screaming a little, then she opened her eyes and we just kinda looked at each other while they cleaned her a bit. They had to take her after a minute to check her over and to deal with me. I laid there watching Jon follow the nurse around and carrying Gee from place to place. I was so happy for him, a new dad. When they were done and we could have some alone time as a family of three, I loved watching him hold her. I was shaking so bad from the adrenaline I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hold her safely, but I forced myself to get over it so I could have that miracle of a girl in my arms again.

Now five months later, I feel like I've learned a lot, but its not the kind of knowledge that has any use beyond my little world. I know the exact spot of Georgia's forehead to rub that makes her close her eyes and do that cute half-smile that normally puts her to sleep. I know the difference between the grunts that mean "sleepy" and "hungry." I know that breastfeeding did NOT come naturally to me, but by sheer force of will, we got it down. I know which songs to sing to her at bedtime, and that if all else fails, "Hush-a-bye Mountain" is her favorite. I feel like I know everything and nothing. It's pretty cool and very humbling. The one thing I know is that Jon and I are blessed beyond compare. I know in a new way how important covenants, temples, and eternal families are. I was given the chance to be with the most wonderful guy in the world, we have a beautiful daughter, and we hope we can add more kids to our pack in time to come. :)