a baby story

I wasn't prepared for this.

But then, who is? Bringing home a newborn for the second time sounded easy enough. After all, I know what to expect this time. I know not to panic when she goes through the various strange but short-lived stages of changing sleep cycles and feeding habits. I didn't plan to be so worried.

But I am. It is unbelievable how I can worry so. I was not anticipating the wave of emotions that would accompany this new little one: fear that I can't take care of her adequately, guilt that her big sister suddenly cannot have all my attention, and dread at the thought of figuring out how to care for all three of us once things are supposed to be back to 'normal.' How do people do this?

But they do. And I will. I just want so much to do it well.

Carly Britt came on November 4, 2008--an historic election day in our country. My labor was almost identical to my labor with my firstborn, Rachel. As with Rachel, contractions stirred me from my slumber around 2:45am. I timed them, and, although they were mild, they were frequent. The first time around, I woke Jarrad almost immediately, and he jumped out of bed and started dancing around, excited to meet our little girl. This time, I got up and scurried around putting the finishing touches on each element of planning for the day. I did wake Jarrad, who grunted and grinned, called his dad (who lives 3 hours away), rolled over and went back to sleep. My contractions continued with regularity, but did not get much stronger. With Rachel, I remember these same contractions feeling painful, but this time, having already experienced what was to come, I knew to go about my business. By 4:30am with Rachel, we had called the doc and convinced her we needed to be admitted for labor and delivery, but that left us with a very long day of very slow progress. This time, I went back to sleep at 4:30am for almost an hour, and was discouraged to wake up and find that the contractions had almost disappeared. I was determined not to rest again until this baby came. Not wishing to spend that frustrating day walking around a birthing facility, but convinced things would move along much quicker this time, Jarrad and I finalized arrangements for Rachel and made our way to the mall.

We walked. We walked and we walked. We had lunch and we walked. We rested on a bench, had a milkshake, and walked. Almost four hours ticked away. My contractions were getting vaguely stronger, but not regular. We were exhausted, and I was beginning to feel defeated. So we returned home around 4:30pm to get some rest.

Aunt KiKi came around 6:00pm to pick up Rachel for a sleepover. By the time she got to our house, my contractions had suddenly become frequent and debilitating. It was time--finally.

We rushed to the birth center, where a midwife and nurse were waiting. They had already filled the tub, as I desired a water birth. Things progressed so quickly--we arrived at 6:30pm, and Carly was born at 8:30pm. Almost identically, the end went very quickly with Rachel, too. With Rachel, though, the doctor had not yet arrived at the hospital when I was suddenly ready to push. Rachel was born at 8:43pm, and I had an episiotomy and third degree tears, resulting in a lot of stitches and a two-week recovery. At the birth center, the midwife talked me through the pushing stage. She told me that I would be much more likely to tear again because the scar tissue is just not as strong as the original tissue, and that I should focus on letting the contractions do the work. She talked me through each contraction, and I was able to exercise enough control that I didn't need even the first stitch this time.

So, Rachel was born at 8:43pm, and Carly at 8:30pm. Although Rachel was born on her due date, and Carly was 7 days late, my two girls weighed the same: 7lb 12oz. Bizarre. The difference? Rachel was born with the tiniest bit of fuzzy red hair, but our Carly's fuzz is quite a bit darker. Rachel has looked like her father and her PopPop from the beginning, but tiny Carly already favors me and my family. These two girls will probably scarcely look related. My thought is that this is a good thing--maybe they will be less likely to be compared to one another if they look so different. I already know that my love is not split equally between the two, but is, rather, quite impossibly doubled.

These two long days of labor that I experienced with my girls has done one more amazing thing: made me love my husband even more. He is the most wonderful man, who knew all the right things to say and do with each passing moment and each intense contraction. Both times, I remember being completely focused on the hard work of labor and on him. He was the only one I could hear--he even had to repeat everything the midwife said as she talked me through to the end. I was unaware of the others in the room (there were several this time around), and I wanted his touch and his voice only. I am still in awe at how close we feel after working together to bring our babies into this world. He still looks at me like I have accomplished the impossible, and I imagine him to be the strongest, most perfect man alive. I am so grateful.

This process of labor is so moving to me. It is perfectly laid out in such a way that my body instinctively knew what to do. Our Creator created a miracle in this, and I am so blessed to have experienced it twice.

Here is a sampling from Carly's first pictures. It's hard to believe that she was barely 12 hours old when we took her home. BubbleShare: Share photos - Find great Clip Art Images.