Happy Birthday Abbi!!

*Today, in addition to being Fathers Day (Happy Fathers Day!!!) it's Abbi's 3rd birthday.  As I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep last night I was remembering what I was feeling exactly 3 years before.  It's so surreal to think that it's already been that long!  So in honor of that day, I thought I'd share a blog post I was asked to do as a guest post on another blog. She asked me to give my birthing story while she was on maternity leave. It was never used so I'll post it here.*

I just have to say that I LOVED being pregnant!

Other than my already ridiculous motion sickness increasing by about 100% I felt fantastic! I was in the last semester at Utah State and this pregnancy came in very handy...

"Hey Babe. It snowed last night so all the sidewalks are icy. I'd hate to fall. How about I sleep in for a little bit, then you can drive me to my class and make it home in time to catch the bus?"

{sobbing angrily} "I'm sorry Mr. Dean of Humanities, but it's not my fault that you hired an idiot advisor who made me retake 2 classes I didn't even need in the first place and kept pushing back the one last class to fulfill my graduation requirement to my last semester...a semester in which it seems the class isn't even offered. I'm pregnant! Can't you see that! More schooling right now was not in my 5 year plan! You better do something to fix this or I will make sure every final project and presentation I have will inform the staff and student body about how incompetently their department is being run and...what's that? You'll just wave the class?"

But I really didn't milk it that much :) I really felt good and I loved every minute of it.

I loved holding my husband's hand in the ultrasound room and finding out we were having a little girl. We were moving from "couple" to "family".

I loved feeling the first little fluttering kicks that quickly turned into noticeable jabs. I loved laying on the sofa with the remote on my belly just to watch it slowly wiggling to the floor from the restless movement.

I loved the look in my husbands eyes when he would tell people about our little "zygote", or explain the new games he was making up to play with her when she finally got here, or when he would sing to her in my belly as we fell asleep.

I loved it all except a brief moment in the 8th month.

Three days before my graduation ceremony we moved out of state(don't worry, I wasn't planning to walk anyway. Put my body with all it's 8 months preggo belly glory and the added cushion of endless pregnancy cravings into one of those gowns then walk gracefully across a stage in front of thousands? On legs that, by this point, seem to have forgotten that thighs end at your knees and do not continue all the way to your toes? And it was sure to be documented. I shudder just thinking about how those images would have turned out) away from family and friends, to a place I had never been so my husband could start his summer job working 15 hour days as the manager of a door-to-door sales team. We would only be gone 4 months, but during those 4 months I was going to have my first baby and have to learn to be a mom, seemingly all on my own.

But I came to realize that I am extremely blessed. Not only did a few fabulous friends come out to work for my husband and keep me sane, but I had even more family and friends back home that I'm positive would have come out to visit even if we weren't offering a free place to stay in San Fransisco :) Over those four months I only had 3 weeks where an amazing woman or loved one wasn't there to teach me or keep me company. For that I am forever grateful.

But now I'm getting ahead of myself. I kind of skipped over the whole point, the birth.

I love my husbands side of the story, but I was asked to give mine, so that's what I'll do.

On Wednesday, June 18th I had a doctors visit. My amazing SIL, who also happens to be my best friend since we were 4(we married brothers :) ), was visiting and I was getting worried that the baby wouldn't come before she left and my sister could get out to me and I would be all alone. The appointment went well. The doctor said all was as it should be, but decided to strip my membranes since I was already a day over due. After we left the doctors office Kristy and I had nothing else planned for the day so we met my husband for lunch at the Buca de Beppo in the mall across from the office (I'm sorry I had to put "strip my membranes" and "Buca de Bappo" in the same paragraph. May the mental connection be a fleeting one). Kristy and I then went home, chilled at the pool, and finished our time honored tradition for whenever we get together - watching the mini-series North and South.

At 5:30 the next morning I started to get strong, regular contractions. My husband was on high alert. He was under the false pretense (due to extensive movie watching and my not realizing this was something that he would need to be corrected in) that once labor started the baby would be here within seconds. He had been secretly waiting for this moment for months...not just to meet our baby girl, but to speed through the city streets with no regard for traffic laws. When 20 minutes had passed and I still was not swearing and yelling at him to "Get the car now unless you want to deliver this baby yourself !" he became a little confused then crestfallen as I finally caught on and put him straight.

I eventually decided we should head out and was admitted to the hospital by 7 am. I had wanted to hold out getting the epidural until the very last second, but after almost 2 hours of back labor I thought I was going to die, and no amount of "Self, be calm. Women have done this for thousands of years without drugs. You'll be fine." was helping because the cynic I share my mind with would immediately throw in there, "Yeah, but most of them either went on to do this at least 8 more times, or just died the first time." Which, to say the least, did nothing to help me relax.

Needless to say, I caved and begged for every drug they could give me.

By 9 am (and after 2 failed epidural placement attempts - the doc informed me that I didn't have enough back fat to guide the needle...at any other time I would have kissed that man for telling me that. Right then however, I just wanted to hit him) I was all settled and fast asleep.

This next part has been known to make some women hate me. Please don't. Over the next 5 hours I slept like the dead (excepting a 15 minute stretch when my water broke and the nurse had to check me). Brad watched a few episodes of 24, and Kristy caught up on some reading. It was heaven! Really, like the deepest, most rejuvenating sleep I'd had in the past 9 months.

But then came the work. I pushed for about an hour and a half before the doctor finally helped me out with a vacuum.

On June 19th, 2008 at 4:12 pm, Abigail Kay Harding was born. She was 7.2 lbs and 21 inches long.

I thought that I would be able to write more about the feelings that I had as she was born, but it is such a sacred, personal moment for me. That moment, when I bacame a mother for the first time, I was deliriously happy. My little Abbi was finally here. I could finally see her. Smell her. Hear her. Hold her. She was beautiful! Perfect! At that moment my heart grew as the love I had for my little family (I love that word) expanded.

These past three years of motherhood have been the hardest, dirtiest,most tiring years of my life. But they have also equally been the happiest, funnest, most growing and rewarding years.

You are the trip I did not take;

You are the pearls I cannot buy;

You are my blue Italian lake;

You are my piece of foreign sky.

-Anne Campell