Four Years Ago Today Part 2

They monitored me and sent me home.

Yes, I felt as stupid as you imagine those people feel who think they are in labor and they aren't.

The next day was Easter. I had visions of a lovely little Easter with J and Bo and my mom, and baskets for all of us. It didn't happen.

I went for a walk to speed things up, but nothing ever seemed to be more consistent, just very painful.

Finally at 3 pm I couldn't take the discomfort and we took Bo to our friends and made our way to the hospital.

I was only at a 3 and they refused to admit me until I progressed.

By 5 o' clock my contractions were so painful I was crying and calling J names that nice girls like me shouldn't say. One time he told me I squeezed his hand too hard and it hurt him. Yeah, you wouldn't believe the self-restraint I showed in that moment. I never experienced this in my laboring with Bo. With him, I got an epidural when I was at a 7, and while I was in extreme discomfort, I hadn't lost my mind to the pain.

I was pleading with the nurses to check me in and give me an epidural. Finally around 5:30 they checked me and said, "Oh, looky there, you're suddenly a five!" and checked me in.

I got an epidural about 20 minutes later and proposed to the anesthesiologist two minutes after that. He said, "Yeah, I always get all the women, just not the right time or place for any of us." He was about 65 years old too.

I was at a 10 by 7:00 but my genius doctor (who probably just wanted to finish her Easter dinner) said she wanted to let the baby drop on her own, so that I didn't have to work so hard to push. It was the best decision ever. It was the difference in night and day from my experience with Bo. Because I had an epidural, the waiting was easy. We were still trying to decide on Avee's middle name. I pretty much obsessed over it because J picked her first name.

At 8:45 the doctor came and got all garbed up, then stood in front of me like I was going to toss her a water balloon and said, "Okay, I'm ready!"

8:55 Avee was born.

J sort of yells things out in the moment. With Bo he said, "That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen!" With Avee he said, "So THAT'S how it's done!?!!!"

She was 7lbs and 7 oz.

At 9:10 my mom was wheeled in to hold her brand new granddaughter.

At 9:15 our friends brought Bo to meet his new sister.

The following Tuesday J rushed from his classes to pick me up and we found out my mom could go home too. J loaded his two invalids and new baby in the car and took us all home. He barely got us all up our three flights of stairs to our apartment, before he had to dash back to class. I'm pretty sure we were a hilarious sight walking down the sidewalk.

Both my mom and I needed prescriptions filled and I was in the best shape of the two of us, so I went back down the stairs and drove to Sams Club to get the Rx's filled. As I was walking at a snail's pace at Sam's, trying to get to the pharmacy, a man in a wheelchair came up to me and said, "Do you need one of these?" I said, "No, I just had a baby like 36 hours ago, I just have to move slow." He lurched back in his chair and zipped off. I think it might have been TMI for him.

My mom and I recuperated together. My sister in England sent us a beautiful bouquet of flowers congratulating us both on the successful removal of our "tumors". The flower delivery guy couldn't wait to see who he was delivering to.

Now Avee is 4. My little bug is a preschooler. Although, by her claims and insistence, she's been 4 for a long time. Along with 5 and a half, 7, and 2. Whatever suits her for the day.

I started blogging just a day after Avee turned 1. She has grown on this blog. The star of my show. I wrote about her growing up just before she turned two.

And then Avee turned three.

Most days I feel like I don't have a handle on Avee. I don't know what makes her tick. She has angles that I don't understand and she works me like a skilled craftswoman. Sometimes this is frustrating for me. I want to know her, I want to understand her, I want to be able to speak her language and meet her needs in the best way possible.

Then I read posts I've written about her and I'm amazed to realize I DO know her. I may not always understand, but I do know her. I know what will make her laugh, cry, get excited, sad...pretty much anything. I'm only a little bit embarrassed that the only thing that gets my little princess to smile for photos, is fake burping. But I know.

She loves her little brother in a way that makes me want to give her a dozen siblings. With a big sister like her, those children will want for nothing. Except maybe clothes and food because, seriously, a dozen more kids?

She cares what other people feel but she doesn't care what other people think. She dresses like a hobo princess and does it with finesse. She soothes Danyo when I can't take another second of his whining. And then informs me, "All he needs is a little love Mom."

Her eyes sparkle when she talks and my heart melts.

Loud and rude bodily functions will forever be the most hysterical thing in the world to her.

She knows what she likes and knows what she doesn't. She likes corndogs. She loves fish and mashed potatoes and broccoli and pho. But she hates cheese. Which is almost blasphemy in J's household.

There is nothing more devastating for her, than for me to be mad at her.

She spends 90% of her day in just her underwear.

She's smarter than I realize, but only shows it off when it keeps her from getting in trouble.

"What's wrong with your face, why is it all red---did you use all the Kandoo wipes on your face!?"
"I didn't use five of them! I put make up all over my face, I wiped it off. I put more on, I wiped it all off. I put lipstick here, here, here and here, and then I wiped it off. I only did it four times. I didn't use five Kandy wipes"

"Avee, please pick up 5 toys and put them away."
"Three."

"Avee, eat 7 pieces of broccoli and you can be done."
"Four."

It's not a question either, it's the final offer in a bargaining I don't have the upper hand in.

I only point these out because, when asked---she can count to 11. After that is 63, then 49, then 18, 18, 18, 23, 63....

I hope there is never an ounce of doubt in her mind how very much we adore her. I know she will go places, and my only prayer is, they are always good places for her.

Happy Birthday Avee Suuuuue, we love you.