If you need to catch up, here's: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
Part Four ended with a six month old Hazel, an almost five year old Abiah, and a newly pregnant me.
This may sound silly, but I was surprised. Somehow I had convinced myself that I would have another six months, at least, until I was pregnant again. By the time this baby was born Hazel would be 15 months and Abiah would be 5 and 1/2 years old. That's a big gap between Abiah and Hazel and a really small gap between Hazel and our third child.
My over worked mind was going a million miles a minute trying to keep up with the flood of emotions, hormones, doubts, questions, and fears. Thankfully my progesterone levels were fine. I didn't worry so much about the baby surviving as much as I worried about my abilities to manage a newborn, a 15 month old, and a 5 year old.
It took me a while to be excited about being pregnant. To be quite honest, it wasn't until I watched a movie I would never recommend, Knocked Up, that I got excited about having another baby. I'm rather ashamed to admit it, too. I'm not sure what is was exactly, but some how it was what I needed.
This pregnancy went smoothly also. There was one big difference. I didn't feel like I knew this baby like I knew Hazel. Not in the beginning. I was waiting for the 20 week ultrasound when we would find out whether we were having a girl or a boy. I thought that once I knew the sex I would start to know the baby.
Well, this baby didn't want to be known. At least, we weren't going to find out if we were having a boy or a girl!
Once again I was disappointed. I needed to know this baby. After feeling such a strong connection with Hazel it felt like I was short-changing this baby.
Gradually feelings of understanding grew stronger. Especially when I went 10 days over my due date. Hazel was two weeks early, which is exactly her personality. She jumps the gun. I have NO idea where she gets it from. (Insert nervous laughter hear.)
This baby was on it's own time table (cough, just like her dad, cough). While I don't think those legs stopped moving from about 9:30 at night until midnight, this one was a slow mover. I knew that if I was induced, the baby would just fight back. I could feel that. And it made me happy. Happy enough to wait.
On Saturday, January 24th, 2009, we went out to breakfast at a local cafe with my parents. On one of my many trips to the bathroom I thought something was different. It's hard to explain without giving the "ladies only" details, but something was different. At 10 pm I started having regular contractions. At 2 when Nathan came up to bed I told him to go call my mom 'cause we were going in!
Some friends came to stayed with Abiah and Hazel. Nathan packed the car up. I made phone calls to the many people on our list. We left the house to make the 30 minute drive to the hospital. On the way we were stopped at two car wrecks, re-routed once, and it started snowing.
When I got to the hospital I couldn't go for longer than a minute or so without having a contraction. It took me a couple of minutes to get from the front door to the nurses station. I knew when I got there that I was close to or in transition. We started with a new midwife but by the time the baby was born we had the same midwife who delivered Hazel. It was a treat. I really like her and felt like she knew me enough to know what I needed. I trusted her. Not so much with the nurse, though.
I found out the hard way that some nurses aren't used to non-medicated births. She was insensitive and pushy. She was constantly taking my blood pressure and asking stupid questions during contractions and it got on my nerves quickly. I felt like she thought I was over reacting about the pain and didn't really know how far along I was. At one point when she left the room I looked up at my family and friends and said, "I just want to slap her!" They all laughed and later let me know they all felt the same way, too. I was more than thankful when her shift ended.
So much happened from when we arrived between 3/3:30 and 9:30 when our 9lb 7oz baby girl was born. She was sooooo big! And very smooshed. Unlike Hazel's bullet entry (she came out all in one push), Amelia took quite a while to come out.
Once again I was mesmerized by this little life I held in my arms. She was such a chunk you just wanted to nibble on her cheeks. She had saggy jowls.
We named her Amelia, which means Beloved, after a family friend who patiently watched me and my siblings when I was younger. And we gave her the middle name, Ruth, which means Friendship, after one of my mom's faithful friends. I knew that if we had two girls I wanted them to be close friends.
What I didn't realize is that I would also have a Beloved Friendship with Amelia. And I do. I took some months for me to finally feel like I knew her the way I always imagined I would. But now she is so dear to me that I just might keep her forever.
As in, she will never be able to leave home. At least not without me.
I don't love Amelia more or less than Abiah and Hazel. She just needs me differently. And I need her too. I need her to wrap her chubby arms around my legs while I'm cooking. I need her to sit in my lap bringing book after book for me to read. I need her sweet songs and laughing blue eyes. I need her in the way I always wanted to.
After she was born I wasn't sure I would want more kids. I needed us to wait until I knew...