"Heaven blew every trumpet and played every horn on the wonderful, marvelous night you were born."
That's a line from a book called "On the Night you Were Born" that Grandma Browning bought for you after you were born. It made me cry the first time I read it and it has made me cry every time I've read it since.
We found out in October of 2012 that you would be turning our duo into a trio. Dad and I were so excited and we stayed up late many nights speculating about who you would be and assigning favorable personality traits and physical features to you. Of course, you far exceeded anything we could have dreamt up, but we'll get to that in a bit. In February of 2013 we found out that you were a daughter, not a son, and we were thrilled. Dad even admitted that he'd been hoping you were a girl. I insisted that I'd known all along. Your estimated date of arrival was June 28, 2013, and we longed for it the way you will soon come to long for Christmas morning. We were waiting for our most longed for gift.
Pregnancy was pretty typical. The first three months were full of morning sickness. I lost nearly 15 pounds that first trimester, but as soon as it was over I gained them all back in a matter of weeks (we were growing girls!). The rest of my pregnancy went smoothly. I was very tired and uncomfortable, but I was excited to be doing this for you (really for me, though).
During my pregnancy, a lot happened. Dad went to New York for two weeks to help repair the damaged power lines after Hurricane Sandy, Obama was re-elected (I called Dad crying), our car was broken into, my Uncle Tom passed away suddenly, our pet fish died (not so tragic), my childhood dog died (not tragic, but sad), and I continued working for Dr. Brown.
Two weeks before my due date I had a routine appointment with my midwife, Julie Haymes (I loved her). Dad was working about 2 hours away so I went to the appointment alone. Julie checked me out and then told me that I was dilated to 3 cm already and was 50% effaced. Wow, I was shocked and then I was freaked out. I went into the hallway and called Dad. Dad was shocked and then freaked out. We were finally going to meet you!
That appointment was on a Friday and we spent the weekend in a state of anxious anticipation. We were hoping you'd come before Monday when Dad had to go back to work in Stockton for the week, but nothing happened. Another week passed and that Friday I had another appointment. Now we were exactly a week from the due date and I thought surely you'd be coming any minute. Julie checked me out and told me I'd progressed to 4 cm and was still 50% effaced. "Any day now," she promised. I called Dad again and told him the news. Again, we waited all weekend and nothing happened.
Another anxious week passed, and now I was feeling annoyed. It was my 40 week appointment, D-Day, and still I wasn't feeling a single contraction. Dad was still working in Stockton and we had resigned ourselves to the fact that you just weren't ever coming out. How impatient we were! As I drove to (hopefully) my last appointment, the road to get to the hospital was blocked from the direction I was driving in, and I nearly screamed, I was so angry. How could they do that to me? How could they stop a 40 week pregnant woman from getting to the hospital!? A mile later I was able to make a U-turn and get on the road I needed to. Kaiser Deer Valley. I saw Julie again and she said the same old thing. I was still dilated, still effaced, still "in labor," but still not giving birth. She told me that your heart rate was low, and she was just slightly concerned. She sent me a few rooms over to have a fetal stress-test. She told me that if things weren't looking good, I would be induced within hours. I called Dad, trying not to let him hear my voice shake. Dad said he'd be there as soon as he could, he was almost off work and we'd figure this out, we'd be ok. I wasn't worried about "us" so much as I was worried about you. This wasn't my plan. This wasn't what I'd wanted.
Tied to a bunch of machines, alone in a cold hospital bed, I let the tears stream down my cheeks. One year to the day prior to this, I had miscarried our first pregnancy. It felt like this day was cursed, and I was having my heart broken all over again. Was my baby ok? What was going to happen to me, and to her? I was so worried about you. The nurse came over and checked the print out on the machine. Everything looked just fine! I was so relieved. She gave me a quick ultrasound so that I could see you and see that your heart was beating and you were moving around in there. You were so big by then that I couldn't make out any details, but I was glad to have seen you anyways. I went out to my car and called Dad. He promised to be home as soon as he could. I hung up the phone and literally sobbed my relief into my hands and thanked my Heavenly Father that you were ok.
That night, everything seemed normal when I went to bed. In fact, I was just so relieved that you were ok that I had kind of given up that anxious feeling of waiting for you. I was just happy that you were ok and I gained a little perspective and was able to be patient. I woke up at 4:45 AM to a pain in my abdomen. Was that a contraction? I laid there for a moment to see what it was, but it was gone. Hmm. I got up and emptied my shrinking bladder, and climbed back into bed. Before I had even fallen back asleep, it happened again. I decided to lie still for 5 minutes and if it happened again, I would turn on my contraction app, and start logging them. A few minutes later the pain was back. Am I really in labor? I timed them for over an hour before taking a screen shot and texting it to my friend Jessica, who was due any second with her third and would know what contractions looked like. She confirmed that I was definitely in labor. Over the next couple of hours the contractions intensified. I was letting Dad sleep because I knew it would be a long day for both of us, and I thought at least one of us should be rested. At about 8 AM, Dad woke up to me crying out in pain. I told him about the contractions, how long they'd been going on, and that he should go back to sleep. And he did. A couple of hours later when he woke up for good, it really sunk in that we were having a baby. Dad showered, got dressed, and ate breakfast while I took a bath. We called Kaiser and told them about the contractions and they told us to come in ASAP. I still wanted to wait a while so that I wouldn't run the risk of being induced. I knew I was in labor and I was trusting my body to do the right thing. We waited as long as we could, and then we just wanted to be at the hospital. I called Grandma Browning and told her that today was the day. She got on the road from San Diego almost immediately. Her bag was already packed.
At the hospital, it was surreal for me to actually be the one in labor. I'd just been there the day before and that already felt like it was a lifetime ago. Dad set me down in a wheelchair before we were checked in- the receptionist was nowhere to be seen- and I thought we would get in trouble for using it without asking. Dad took a very honest picture of me in that moment, the pain is evident in my face, and I laugh now remembering how I thought I'd be kicked out of that wheelchair. The receptionist finally came out and they got us checked in and taken back to get my vitals and discuss my birth plan. I told them I wanted to go as natural as possible, that I didn't even want and IV for fluids. I promised to drink as much as I could, and they said that was fine, but talked me into having a PICC line, just in case. They measured my belly and all that and said I was at 6 cm, and about 60% effaced. That was pretty good. They also said they thought you'd be about 7 lbs. Ha! That sounded great.
I got set up in the hospital room where you would be born. It was about 1:30 PM at this point and they gave me 5 minutes of fluids (that's all I allowed) and then left us alone. Dad and I watched the Disney movie "Up" and a few TV shows and then waited, and waited, and waited. I took a hot shower. The contractions were making my back ache and I couldn't find a comfortable position to lie down in. The hours went by, and every once in a while a nurse would come in and check the print out on the machine. So far so good. Grandma Browning got there around 8 PM and was brought back to my room. She knew she wouldn't be there for the actual birth, but she couldn't resist coming anyways and I was happy to have her there. At this point, I still hadn't been checked internally since we'd been checked in, and I knew the midwives were changing shifts at 8, so I asked if mine could come in one more time before she left just to see how much I'd progressed. She came in right away and I was at 9 cm and about 80% effaced. Wow! I'm quiet about pain and they hadn't realized I was so far along. My water hadn't broken yet and I told them that although I wanted to go "all natural," I was ok with having my water broken. They told me I was doing so well that they wanted to keep waiting for it to break on it's own. I asked if I could have them come back in an hour and break it if it hadn't happened already. They agreed, and an hour later they were back to break it. That was the best I'd felt all day! They told me that I'd probably start to feel the urge to push soon, and to press the call button when I did. They all left the room and Dad and I just looked at each other. With the very next contraction I told him that I couldn't stop myself from pushing. He ran out into the hallway and called to our nurse to come back in.
Giving birth is the craziest thing in the world. The nurses and midwife, Kit Aldridge, had been telling me that I was doing great and that you were almost here. Almost. They said it so many times, but to me, almost meant that you were out to your ankles. Finally, I asked what "almost" meant and they told me that they could see your hair. Ha!
After a half hour of pushing, it became clear that your umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck. Luckily, it was wrapped under your arm as well, tying your arm to your head. This meant that you were breathing fine, but it was going to be a lot harder for me to get you out. Your little hand was in a fist right at the top of your perfect head. Dad kept leaning in and whispering encouragement and telling me how strong I was and that I was beautiful. That really helped. After a while longer, he grabbed my hand and put it on your head. It was wet, and perfect, and full of curly hair! What a surprise! Touching my baby for the first time gave me the wave of strength that I needed to get you out. The midwife told me I could probably have you out in a few more contractions. I did it in one. Once you were out past your shoulders, the midwife told me to reach down and grab my baby. At 10:03 PM on June 29, 2013, I grabbed you beneath your arms and pulled you onto my chest. "Oh, my rosy baby!" I thought as I pulled your perfect pink body onto me. Dad and I had been considering two names, Rosie and another (that may end up being a sister's name someday, so we'll leave it at that) but we were leaning towards the other name. After I'd called you "rosy" unintentionally, it was hard to think of you as the other name (we ended up debating for almost 24 hours before naming you). You were here, and you were perfect. I got to hold you for a while and Dad and I felt like the heavens had opened (because they had) and you'd been given to us. They cleaned you up and weighed and measured you (8 lbs, 5 oz, 21.5 inches long) and then Dad got to hold you for the first time. I've never seen him so quiet. He just looked at you like he was looking at the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, because he was. Grandma came back in after that, and it was love at first sight for her, too.
That night they put you in a little see-through crib next to my bed and told us to get some rest. Dad fell asleep pretty quickly and I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't stand being so far apart from you. I pulled your little bundled up body into my bed and slept with you in the crook of my arm. We both slept all night.
The next day was Sunday and we made it official that you were Rosie Belle Schimpf. We spent all day just staring at you and taking pictures of you to send to the family. You got to meet baby Cameron that day, too. My friend Jessica had gone into labor after I did, and delivered just down the hall from where you were born, about 7 hours later, and with the same midwife. Different birthdays, but only hours apart. It was a wonderful weekend for us tired mommies (I was a mommy!!).
We convinced the nurses to let us go home a day early, as you and I were perfectly fine. You didn't even have jaundice. My rosy Rosie. Dad drove us home more cautiously than you can imagine. And Grandma was there waiting for us. She gave me a blanket that my Baba had made a long time ago and I wrapped you in it and cried happy tears.
What a beautiful, bright, brilliant daughter you are. Dad and I had high expectations of you, but you have been greater than anything we could have imagined. You are the most determined child I have ever met. You learned to walk without even holding my hands because you knew you could do it yourself. I knew you could, too. I have never been more proud of anything in my life than I am of being your mother. I love you with my whole heart. You are the daughter I always hoped I'd have. You are a daughter of God, I know that without a doubt. I am so grateful for you and for the sunshine you bring to our family. I can't wait to watch you grow; you impress me more every day. I love you so much, Rosie Belle, and I always will. Happy (almost) birthday, my love!
