Burt's Arrival

 In my attempt to open up more through blogging, I have found sharing the stuff that's been going on in my mind quite enjoyable and good for my soul. I have been thinking about telling the story of Burt's birth, but I have often hesitated because it is one of utter joy with a little bit of heartache.

So here it goes....

I had a checkup the Thursday before my due date (which was Friday the 13th), and my doctor told me that I was progressing and it would be okay with him if we wanted to get the ball rolling. Music to my ears. I very much wanted to feel normal again. So I put on my sweatbands, Thompson jersey, and eye black and replied, "Well, let's do this." Not really, but I did get my gameface on.

Andrew and I made all the phone calls alerting our families that it was gametime. My mom, my brother, and Andrew's mom all showed up on Friday as we awaited the arrival of our little boy.

Yes, I was scared of the insane pain of birth. Yes, I got an epidural. Yes, I am glad I made that decision.

The doctor predicted that he would arrive between 3 and 5 on Friday. Boy, was he correct! I had to wait for the epidural to wear off some, so I could feel when to push. It started to wear off around 2:25, and my contractions were about a minute or two apart. It was time. Geez. I was feeling contractions with an epidural, and it hurt like crazy!

My nurse coached me of when to push and when to rest. She was a tough, black lady, who propped my leg on her hip like it was nothing. She took care of me, gave me plenty of pep talks, and I wanted to go out with her after the delivery and have a good, cold beer. I felt like we could be BFFs. She was amazing!

Well, the doctor arrived just in time. Between contractions we all watched a little family feud...yep, seriously. Then it would be time for me to go into "beast mode"-this is what Andrew likes to call my hardcore pushing.

At 3:22 he was finally here. Andrew snipped the cord, and they laid that sweet baby boy on me. Beautiful. Andrew and I were in awe. And then it happened.....

My stomach is in knots right now as I think back to this very moment.

You see, some fluids went down Burt's air passageway, and he turned blue. The doctors took him away to try to clear it out and revive him. Panic soon replaced the awe. I couldn't watch. I stared out with a blank look on my face. All I could think was pray. I looked at Andrew, and told him to pray. They called a CODE BLUE over the intercom to alert a team to come in. My heart continued to sink. The doctor's kept working, and we prayed.

I repeated over and over....let him be ok, God.....let him be ok, God.....let him be ok, God.

And he cried.

I cried.

Andrew cried.

He was okay.

Andrew went to let our family know that everyone was doing okay, and they could come see him in a little bit. Burt went to the nursery to get cleaned up and to get his bath, and I had a moment to decompress.

I laid there with so many emotions running through me. I was exhausted from the hard work that my body just went through. I was in awe of God at the sight of our baby. I was relieved to know that our baby was healthy. I was overjoyed with becoming a mother. I was in love seeing Andrew look at our son. I was pained knowing that my father was not there to see this. I was overwhelmed with the soon to be tasks of taking care of our baby. I was a bit cocky because I just rocked that labor (I know, I know, but it's true). I was a disheveled, hotmess with a side pony-tail and no make-up (hence the no pictures taken of me).

When we brought Burt home, I was nervous leaving him in the crib. I would check on him A LOT to make sure he was breathing. I think that it is normal for every first time mom, but having THE BIG SCARE made me even more overprotective. That finally subsided. I was able to let the anxiety go, and trust that God would watch over him as he sleeps. Isn't that what prayer is for? Casting your cares to God, and leaving them with Him.

He is growing like crazy.
He is a strong and healthy boy.
He is cooing and talking up a storm.
He is blowing tons of bubbles.
He is kicking those legs like the ninja I think he will become.
He smiles constantly and laughs hysterically at my awesome faces and jokes.
He is checking out those sweet little hands, that are so much like mine, and mine are so much like my father's.
He is so wonderfully made.

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."- Psalms 139:13-14

"Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward."-Psalms 127:3