Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Forty: Early Bird

Against all genetic odds, Sunnie came four days early.

At roughly two-thirty in the morning, my water began leaking (after a late night pee-trip and a handful of sour gummy worms from my Easter basket). I was a little confused and thought maybe I had peed myself, which I suggested when I called the hospital and spoke with the nurse. Once I was certain (the nurse told me to walk around and see if I continued "leaking"- I did), we started to grab our bags and last minute items to bring to the hospital. Jordan was calm and cool. I couldn't even think. On the drive to the hospital we both were pretty quiet, uncertain what the next hours would bring. When we arrived, the nurse confirmed that my water had indeed broke.

This was not the plan. I never thought my water would break. It wasn't at all like it is in the movies- water gushes, lady freaks out, hunches over in pain, rushes to the hospital. Nope. In fact, it was suspiciously uneventful. At this point, I hadn't even felt much more than what I believed to be Braxton Hicks. In my head, I'm thinking, Oh gosh, they are going to send me home. I innocently asked the nurse when she would check my cervix to see if I was far along enough to get to stay at the hospital (it's sort of weird to blog the word cervix). Oh you silly, silly girl, Pre-baby Jessica. The nurse politely sang Hotel California to me told me that basically once your water breaks, you don't leave without a baby. I was not leaving without a baby..

I would tell you about the next sixteen hours, but then I would be giving you a piece of my soul. There are things during those many many hours that I felt and experienced and endured with Jordan that have grafted themselves onto my bones and have become who I am. I just cannot give that away.

What I can tell you, is that there is nothing that could have prepared me for it. There is no book, no advice, no nothing that could have prepared me. There were moments when the pain felt so unrelenting that I truly thought I could not do it. I can tell you this though- that no human, nor earthly thing, could have carried me through such an experience. I remember praying aloud, or even crying aloud, to God to just be with me. I remember needing Him so desperately and in a cloudy haze of sheer anguish and turmoil, I remember Jordan whispering into my ear and I do not remember what he said to me, but I remember a moment of clarity and calm amidst all that was not. At 9:03 in the evening, mercy and love was shed upon me and our daughter was born into this world, safely and naturally, and immediate comfort followed. I will never, ever understand how I made it through. It is unfathomable. I can only think of this-

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not on thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths"
-Proverbs 3:5-6

In her first week of life, Sunnie
  • Looks just like her Dad
  • Hiccups just as much as she did in my belly. It's so sweet and miraculous to think that I used to feel those hiccups inside of my belly. Unreal.
  • Loves for her Dad to hum to her. Her favorites are "I Am a Child of God", "Love One Another",  and the creepy song from the elf scene in Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
  • Has pooped, a lot, including three projectile poops which I have since figured out how to defend myself against
  • Likes to be held and swayed by the fan
  • Doesn't love diaper changes
  • Likes her feet curled up, just like a little frog (she did this while in my belly also)
Now here I am, sitting here watching this tiny little girl, wondering where the time went, and my heart is breaking and full all at the same time. 

I remember when I awoke around four in the morning in early August, having dreamt that I was pregnant. I remember stumbling to the bathroom in a sleepy confusion and taking the test. I remember when I saw the two blue lines. I remember looking away and then at it again several times in utter disbelief. I remember the first time we heard her heartbeat. I remember the first time we saw her tiny hand and I remember counting to make sure she had all five fingers. I remember knowing she would be a girl and I remember finding out that she was. I remember crying all the time, worried for her- desperately wanting for her to be healthy and safe and I remember desperately waiting to feel her move. I remember holding my hands on my belly and feeling her rolling and kicking and trying to imagine what she looked like. 

I remember it all and I remember how badly I wanted to hold her and see her- and now she is here and she has changed so much already

I want to cry because I'm happy and I want to cry because I'm sad. I'm sad because in every moment I remember, I remember thinking that time was going so slowly and I just wanted her to be here. And I remember being in labor and the pain was so unearthly that I thought I would never get through it. And I remember when I held her for the first time in both of our lives and I remember leaving the hospital and wondering how I would figure out "being a mom" once I was home and I remember sitting here beginning to write this all down and that's just how quickly time does go by. The other night Jordan and I sat and watched her sleep and I cried. I just am so overwhelmingly terrified that if I blink, she'll grow up and I'll miss it. I don't even know why I am saying all of this, but I guess it's just so that one day I can read this and remember that one time, Sunnie was a little baby and she was absolutely perfect and I loved her so powerfully and she was the closest to God I had ever been. I hope I never forget feeling this way and I hope my heart doesn't break too much as she grows, because that is a wonderful thing. It truly is wonderful that one day, she will love certain music and have certain passions and think her own thoughts and wonder about the world and learn to know God all on her own. 

I love who she is and I love that she can become.

I am scared and I am happy and I know that she was meant to be here with us. I know that with every fiber of my soul. 

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Thirty-Nine: You Are My Sunshine


She is here and she is beautiful and I have so much I could say, but I am overwhelmed with such deep love and amazement, that it wraps around the soul so tightly and takes all breath away.

Sunnie Ana Rose Sorensen
April 4th, 2013

Monday, April 1, 2013

Thirty-Eight: 10, 9, 8

and a Happy Easter

The end of this week began the single-digit count down of days until Baby's due date.

First of all, folding baby clothes takes the same skill-set as creating Origami. I still don't get how you fold something that tiny. Maybe I'll become so super good at it, that I'll make little animals like they do at fancy resorts with the hand towels. Probably not, whatever.

This week has been mostly ordinary. It started with snow on the ground and ended with beautiful seventy-degree Spring weather. The middle week was a blur of yoga pants and unwashed hair. I'd have to say that the absolute best part of this week was that Summer, one of my most favorite people of all time, returned home from a year and a half long mission. Other exciting and wonderful news includes the birth of the first (two) babies from our Centering group- a set of healthy twin girls. Other new babies were born this weekend to friends as well.

And that just blew me away- that these other girls, who have been sort of going through this all along with me, have their babies here now. That means that I will too, and I just cannot fathom it. I am as prepared as I can be- bags packed, ready to go- but nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare me for our baby to actually enter this world- to be able to really hold her and see her. It is just so beyond what I understand of this world, and it makes me so profoundly certain that there must be a God- it shakes me to the core.

So now it's the waiting game. Day and night, my mind is restless. I've chosen not to be checked for dilation, so I have no idea where things are at progress wise. All I know, is that soon enough, I will be somebody's mother in the most eternal and tangible way.

Look at these monsters. One day, I'll have ankles again