The Girl

Well, I told David's birth story, I suppose Sabrina should get a turn. Hers is not nearly so eventful, thank goodness.

In late 2003, early 2004, we decided that we really shouldn't have another child, as David and his autism therapies, etc., require a lot of attention. We sold or gave away all my maternity clothes, baby toys and equipment, and baby clothes.

In May 2004, my husband (once again) had no Mother's Day gift for me, so he gave me a roll in the hay instead. Lovely. It had been at least 8 months since the last time (I've got a whole other blog where I bitch about that ongoing situation - and no, I'm not linking it. So stop looking, Mom.) but still, I might have preferred some new clothes or a spa day (that's what I got this year - still haven't used it) or something.

Three weeks later, we took David to the park. As I went to use the park bathroom, I was thinking that my period should be starting anytime now. I had a little cramping and very sore breasts. But my period was late and it's never late. I thought, hmmm, my breasts hurt like this when I was pregnant; but I couldn't be pregnant, we haven't . . . oh sh*t, that's right. We did." When we got home, I surreptitiously took a pregnancy test. Positive. Damn.

I didn't tell Matthew right then. He was trying to get David to sleep and I needed to absorb this development before dealing with him anyway. Matthew can have a temper and I was truly scared to tell him. He likes life to be neat, orderly, and predictable. Another unplanned pregnancy was none of the above.

Once again, he surprised me. He was stunned, just like me, but took it quite well. And just like before, he couldn't keep his big mouth shut. I wanted to keep it quiet this time, not share our news with the world at just a few weeks. I mean, stuff happens. You don't want to announce your happy news, just to have to explain a few weeks later that it didn't work out. But nooo, he had to tell my parents (who were unhappy, to say the least. My mother felt that she had nearly lost me last pregnancy and she thought this one would kill me for sure), his parents, and random people on the street. Like impregnating me made him some sort of manly-man. (No, it made him a jerky man because he had refused to use a condom. He still has never, ever, worn a condom. Not even for "practice" as a teenager or college student. He was a virgin when he met me, so he hadn't needed one. TMI? Yeah, I guess so.)

This pregnancy was a total 180 from David's. I threw up once or twice, had a week or so of nausea, then smooth sailing until December 2004. My due date was February 14, 2005. I went in for routine check-up and non-stress test the week before Christmas. Matthew was along (second time the whole pregnancy - he went to every visit with David; I guess the novelty had worn off). To my surprise, the non-stress test showed I was having regular, fairly strong, contractions. The OB sent me to the hospital. I spent all day there as they gave me drugs to try to stop the contractions and keep me from going into full-blown labor. They stopped the contractions and put me on bed rest.

Bed rest - hah! I had a four-year-old, I hadn't finished my Christmas shopping, I had baking to do, meals to prepare, etc. I couldn't just sit around! Dr. B, my beloved OB, said I had better if I wanted to make it to full term. I also had to take the most horrible drug EVER. It keeps the contractions at bay, but also makes your heart race and keeps you from sleeping. Great. Pregnant, on speed, and forced to lay still. More joy. I was allowed to get up to use the bathroom and take one shower every two days. Hell on freakin' earth. Matthew had to do the Christmas shopping (I hope everyone wanted a no-thought-whatsoever gift card), cookies did not get baked, candies did not get made. I did get up and make dinner each night though. I just wanted one good meal a day. Shhh - don't tell Dr. B.

I couldn't take bed rest until February 14, so Dr. B. ordered a test for lung development and as soon as it showed Sabrina's lungs were ready for action, I had a planned c-section. Oh, the wonders of the planned c-section! So much better than the unplanned c-section. I walked to the OR on my own, joked with the doctors and nurses, helped catch my husband when he nearly fainted watching the docs give me an epidural - all much better than a 5-in-the-morning-your-baby's-going-to-die c-section.

When they plucked her out, all 5 lbs, 8 oz. of her, she also had the cord wrapped around her neck. Twice. Glad I didn't try a v-bac. She gave a lusty cry and then glared at me over the curtain (they put up a curtain so you can't watch them fooling around in your guts. Apparently some people find that off-putting. Whatever.) A little girl with a big mouth and an attitude. I was in love. It was 11:15 a.m. on January 25, 2005.

No NICU, no attempted breast-feeding nightmare (didn't work the first time, didn't even try this time), just a healthy little girl. I was up and walking that night, didn't need IV pain meds (just Tylenol!), didn't need a boatload of antibiotics, and I felt great. I was able to go home (okay, my parents' house - they don't have stairs) after just 2.5 days. Yippee!

Sabrina is now 2 and a real pain in my butt. She is beautiful and smart. Too smart for her own good. She fights with her brother, then gives him kisses and hugs. She has been developmentally spot-on but remains quite small. She has yet to appear on the growth chart for her age. At her two-year checkup, she was 21 pounds. She is up to 22 pounds now and wears 12-18 months clothes (at 28 months). People always marvel at how she's "SO TINY!" It was fun at first, but now it's just annoying. She's not a midget, people, she's just small. I'm 5'2" - where do you think she gets it?