Lily's Birth Story

When Jeff and I first started dating, his sister did one of those tricks on me that's supposed to tell you how many kids you'll have in the future. According to this weird voodoo, I was supposed to have three boys. Despite the fact that Jeff and I had JUST started dating, his family seemed to believe from this point on that Jeff was going to have three sons with me.
Fast forward to my second pregnancy, and this was still their firm belief. They were so convinced that, after I had my ultrasound that told me the baby was a girl, several of them repeatedly reminded me that doctors sometimes make mistakes and they would believe that it was a girl after she was born.
I believed the doctors, but I had something else to talk to them about. After needing an emergency c-section with Gabriel, I had to decide if I was going to try to have this baby naturally or schedule another surgery. I would have had to find another doctor if I wanted to do it naturally, because she wouldn't even attempt a VBAC. I decided that, after having a really rough recovery the first time, I didn't want to risk a failed VBAC and an even worse recovery.
So we scheduled surgery for November 2nd, which was really the only day that worked with Jeff's work schedule. He had just recently started with Cal Fire, so he wasn't going to be able to take a lot of time off. The hospital said the only time they could get all the staff they needed that day was 5:00 in the evening, which seemed a little weird, but whatever.
To be prepared, I would have to fast all day long. That was the hard part about having it in the evening. Jeff and I planned to get up and go out for a nice breakfast together while it was still okay for me to eat to hopefully make it easier for me to resist the rest of the day.
The morning of the big day, Jeff and I got up and started getting ready to go out when I realized that the contractions that I had been casually ignoring had been getting stronger and closer together. So, instead of going to breakfast, we went to the hospital. At first, they told me I would probably be sent home since I already had my surgery scheduled for later that day. However, after they checked me out, they said I wouldn't be going anywhere. They called my doctor to see what she wanted to do, and she came in to do the c-section around 11 am. Thank goodness I hadn't eaten yet!
The doctor made a comment about how Lily had gotten the day right, just not the time. And that's my Lily. She is very good at doing what she's supposed to, but in her own time and in her own way.
Jeff had asked ahead of time if he could watch the surgery and the doctor didn't only okay it, but let him take pictures. Yuck.
While I was still numb from the anesthesia, they put Lily in one of those rolling cradle things and rolled us both to the recovery room. I noticed her fingers looked a weird color and mentioned it, but I was told that it was just because the blood flow takes longest to get to her extremities. Once she was allowed, my mom came in, saw the purple fingers, and didn't like the explanation she was given. So, despite the fact that the nurses wanted to do more tests on Lily, my mom made them give her to me so she could get some body warmth. Within minutes, she looked much better. I'm so grateful for my mom's boldness in that situation and hope that I can be better at doing that.
Lily was the sweetest baby, wasn't too bad about sleeping, and quickly learned to smile with her entire body. She's still super sweet, and I just love her to pieces.
Oh, and Gabriel has absolutely loved her since day one.

Hard Stuff

If there is one thing I've learned from all of the things I've talked about with other moms, read in blogs, seen in memes, and overheard in others' conversations, it's that being a mom is hard.
This, I believe, is a universal truth and something I've known from my own experience for over three years now. However, it's really been hitting me hard lately.
A couple of weeks ago, I was mostly focused on how painful this pregnancy has been. It's difficult to move around, everything hurts, and Jeff is always making fun of me for breathing like I just ran a marathon when all I've done is walk across the house. Despite all this, and my whining, it was bearable.
Then Gabriel broke his leg. I now know a kind of guilt, worry, and heartache that many mothers before me have experienced when their children have been hurt or very sick. That day, I had absolutely no idea how we were going to manage. The cast begins at his right ankle, goes all the way up to his chest, and back down the other leg to his knee. It's too heavy for him to even roll over on his own. He can't sit up. He can't reach his own feet. He can't use the restroom without a lot of help.
For the most part, he has had a great attitude and handled all of this really well. He's also been a bit spoiled, with people buying him toys and things to keep him busy while he can't run around and play like he otherwise would. So many people have been so helpful in trying to ease this burden.
But there are, naturally, difficult times. Sometimes he gets frustrated with the cast and complains that he wants to stand up by himself. Sometimes he cries and cries for us to get the cast off of him. Bed time takes a minimum of an hour, because there's always something that's not right: the pillow propping up his leg is touching his foot, his bottom feels funny, his cast feels sticky, his room is too dark (with three night lights), his shadow is too big, etc. I know some of this is just a three-year-old trying to push back bedtime, but I also know that sometimes he calls me into his room for legitimate reasons, like when his leg finally hurts so bad that he wants the extra yucky medicine. And even when I know he's calling me for something silly, the knowledge that he's so utterly helpless keeps me trying to tend to his needs/wants.
Even still, I feel like all of this would be manageable if it weren't for my original problem: this pregnancy has been hard and I'm in a lot of pain. And because I'm so pregnant, I'm left helpless as well. While I can bring him things and arrange his pillows, I can't lift him to adjust his comfort, to move him from one room to another, to put him in the car or help him got potty or anything. I'm of no use.
Jeff has been great about this and is there whenever Gabriel needs help moving, but he'll have to go back to work soon so that he'll still have some time to take off when the baby comes. I have lots of family that will be helping, and I'm grateful for that, but I absolutely hate not being able to take care of my kid.
To make things even more exciting, I'm scheduled to have a c-section just a few days after Gabriel will be getting his cast off in five weeks. Poor Jeff will have to go from taking care of Gabriel to helping me recover from major surgery. Again, we have lots of help. It's still hard on us.
Basically, I'm physically exhausted and emotionally drained. I know we'll get through this, but I think it helps to take a minute to stop just trucking along and acknowledge just how hard things are sometimes. It's hard. It'll be okay, but it's hard.

Side note: Lily has also been great, and she hasn't let some stupid cast keep her from getting quality time with her brother.