Thursday 3.31.11

Greetings this fine Thursday morning from this

Beautiful Girl

 

who turns seven on Tuesday.

And for the record, there’s no way I’m making it through this post without bawling like I do every time I sit down to write something like this about one of my crew.

And it seems like forever ago and only yesterday that she arrived.

I remember:

Mom and Dane driving to Paul to help out after she was born and having that conference weekend together …

Getting up crazy early Monday morning and waving goodbye to Mom who was sleeping on the couch and whispering, “I’m gonna go have a kid now. See ya in a bit …”

Getting the epidural around noon and being pretty comfortable …

My doctor checking me at 5:00pm and telling me that the baby’s heart rate kept dropping and that she needed to be born right now and getting panicky because I was only dilated to an 8 and I was sure he was going to make me have another c-section …

Feeling relieved when he told me that I could have a regular delivery, but that I was going to have to just push myself to a ten and get this baby out …

Feeling … nothing … and needing to have Ben and nurses tell me when contractions were building and to push because I was absolutely numb. I’d push and then stop and push and stop all the while wondering if I’d start feeling anything at some point …

My doctor telling me to stop pushing because her head was out and the cord was around her neck … and then one last push and she was out … and then room was so still and quiet …

The doctor placing her on my chest for a minute, but then taking her right away because she wasn’t pinking up and breathing.  We would later learn she swallowed quite a bit of amniotic fluid during delivery and had a lot of fluid in her lungs …

Watching the nurses work on Savannah and watching the clock, waiting eight full minutes to hear my daughter cry …

Talking to Peterson while the nurses worked on Savannah and telling him that everything was so surreal because I just had a kid and didn’t feel like it at all … no heavy pushing, no pain, no feeling contractions, didn’t even break a sweat—nothing at all like Cameron’s birth …

Telling Peterson that, yes, I did want him to drive all the way back to Paul and get me a large order of the world’s greatest onion rings from The Frosty Top even though the hospital had just brought me dinner—I just had a kid and therefore got whatever I wanted thankyouverymuch …

  Twenty-four hours after she was born when we finally gave up trying to figure out a name by ourselves … and Peterson going out to the nurse’s station to get a quarter and agreeing to a “best of seven” on a name … and Ainsley winning the first three and Savannah coming from behind to take the last four …

The boys coming to visit Savannah in the hospital and Cameron hopping right up and jamming his finger right into her face because he was so excited to see the “bay-bee” …

My heart sinking when Dylan crouched in the corner and started to melt down, refusing to look at his sister … and me fighting back tears and closing my eyes and silently telling the Lord that I couldn’t go through Dylan crashing again—that’s I couldn’t handle losing a child and gaining one at the same time again …

Sharing a cautious smile through tears with Ben when Savannah came home and Dylan held his sister for the first time and we both knew that somehow we’d all be okay this time around …

Marveling at the difference this little girl’s spirit brought into our home …

Loving painting her nails pink and dressing her up in the blessing dress that Great Grandma Ella had made for me …

Laughing with Ben three months later when our tiny 6 lb. 4 oz. little baby chunked out over night … and saying what a shame it was that her bum and thighs had exploded out the back of her diaper …

And that our little Chava Zulu was at my side as our family went through an overnight move to Utah … and finding a house … and Dylan’s diagnosis … and Ben’s job change ….

And our beautiful little Chava who Dylan tried to call Girl, but could only say Grill-a, became Grilla Bear and still for me, Bear.

And watching her grow bigger, taller and more perfect in her own unique way makes being just a house wife worth it.

Because I just get to be her momma …

… and fail miserably at acting modest when someone asks if she’s mine and I smile and nod and realize for the millionth time just how lucky I am to have her …

… especially when her hair is a windblown mess of pigtails and tangles …

… or when she’s dressed in her Thursday finest.

And even if I added a hundred more pictures, I still could not tell you how much I love this little girl and everything about her.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.

I love that she’s a laugher …

… and that she hates jobs but loves to help out …

… that she is happiest coloring pictures of dragons and unicorns or running around outside …

… and that her curious mind sees the wonder and magic around her everyday.

And because she sees that wonder and magic, I see it, too.

Happy 7th Birthday Baby Girl.

Love you to the moon.