The Poor Middle Child

So, the day before we left home for three weeks, a trip for which I had packed not one single thing until the morning we left, that just so happened to coincide with a holiday weekend was probably not the time to start an extravaganza of any sort.  Live and learn.

In case you can't tell, it didn't happen last weekend.  Furthermore, I now find myself in a hotel room with my family of five, which, let me tell you, is not exactly conducive to blogging.  I'm really good at setting myself up for failure with my unrealistic expectations of myself, but that's a whole 'nother blog post.

Since I started with the birth of my youngest child, I supposed I shall go backwards in time and move on my sweet middle child.

After a rather large first baby, I tried so hard not to gain too much weight with my second pregnancy.  I succeeded in gaining only 24 pounds (maybe a lot for some, but not compared to my first).  I was committed to exercising and eating right during Abby's pregnancy.  That's why when her due date came and went without so much as a contraction, I decided I was going to walk, walk, walk her out of my body.  I think my giant pregnant belly walked 15 miles the weekend prior to my induction.  It wore me out, and I was exhausted not just physically but mentally.  The day before I was set to be induced, I hid out in the only place I knew I could get some privacy and laid down on the floor of my closet for a nap.  Turns out that was a bad idea because Sam and my parents (who had come down for the impending birth) couldn't find me and assumed I'd fallen out on a walk somewhere in labor.  I was clearly experiencing some sort of temporary insanity, because I also had an insatiable need to make sausage balls and cheese straws the night before I was induced. 

Since I had tried everything short of castor oil to get labor started, and nothing worked, I went in on Monday morning for my scheduled induction.  For some reason, she just wouldn't drop.  I'd had regular contractions on my walks, but they would never continue.  I woke up early in the morning after a surprisingly restful night of sleep.  I stood in the shower thinking about how surreal it was that the next time I stood there, I'd have two babies at home.  I had scheduled my induction on a day that another doctor aside from my primary O.B. was on call.  I actually did that on purpose because I liked that particular doctor better.  Needless to say I was surprised when my doctor walked through the door to break my water around 7:30 that morning after 30 minutes on pitocin. The anesthesiologist came to put my epidural in around 9:30am.  Abby's head was so high that the nurse had a hard time even checking my cervix.

As my contractions continued, I could feel them getting stronger and longer...and I wasn't really sure why...considering I'd already gotten the epi. Needless to say, it wasn't working.  My legs were completely numb, but I could feel everything from my thighs up.  I told the nurse I was going to have to get the dr back in to check it out or fix it.  She said she wanted to check me first because I might just be feeling pressure.  As it turns out I was complete and ready to push...but I still wish I could have gotten some more drugs!  The doctor came in and her head was still very high...despite the contractions.  After a quick examination, he informed me that she was "OP" or face-up, which is apparently why she couldn't get into position.  He wanted me to push for a while and if she didn't drop down he would come back and "help me out."  I pushed for about 45 minutes....feeling EVERYTHING.  At that point, I looked at the nurse and said, "How long am I going to have to do this!?"  I guess she thought it was cute to be coy with a pregnant woman in transition labor because she replied with a smile, "As long as it takes."  Sorry, but I was looking for an answer like, "Exactly 7 more minutes."  Guess that was unrealistic of me.  But reason goes out the window during labor.  At least, it does for me.  Well, it actually goes out the window sometime around the positive pregnancy test.

When the doctor came back, Abby still wasn't close to coming out on her own, so he employed the use of the "kiwi", which is a tiny vacuum they stick on the baby's head to help get them out.  He was hoping to be able to turn her with it, but she decided to be stubborn and stay face up.  We decided it was because our little sunshine wanted to see what the world has to offer her, rather than be welcomed in by a sterile hospital floor.  After just 6.5 hours at the hospital, Abby was born at 1:42pm. She weighed 8lbs 8oz and was 21 1/4 inches long. She has a head full of honey blond hair that was the talk of all of the nurses.  She had a scab on the top of her head from the kiwi, but it was gone in a matter of about twelve hours.  Newborns are amazing like that.

My parents and Sam's mom were there for the birth and to help with her big brother in the waiting room.  Benjamin welcomed Abby right into the world just minutes after she was born.  It was love at first sight. 

All of my concerns about not being able to love another child as much as I loved my first dissolved as quickly as they developed, and no matter how cheesy or cliche it might be, I immediately believed the saying I'd read somewhere...

A mother's love doesn't divide.  It multiplies.

I skedaddled from the hospital as quickly as they would let me, but not before one of the sweetest nurses I ever met informed me that she absolutely loved the name Abigail because she was her favorite character in the Old Testament. 

To sum up, Abigail courageously dissuaded David from taking revenge on her foolish husband, Nabal, who had earlier refused and insulted David and his men when they requested retribution of food for protecting Nabal's flocks of sheep.  She spoke to David,  predicting that he would rise to kingship at the hand of God, but warned that acting on his own desires to take revenge could jeopardize that.  David became enamored with Abigail and took her as his own wife when Nabal soon died.

Abigail - name comes from the Hebrew name אֲבִיגַיִל / אֲבִיגָיִל Avigail, meaning "father rejoice" or "father's joy".

Father's Joy 

That, I assure you, she is.


Anonymous said...

So sweet.

Denise said...

Such a special post about a special little girl. I am certain she is her "father's joy" along with the rest of her family.

I can't believe how young Ben looks in these pictures. You can just see the love written all over his face. I can't wait to hear his story next.

Have fun on vacation!

Chrystal's Corner said...


Sharon said...

Jennie - I can so remember feeling that I could never love my second child. I just had too much love for my first to share any. God is wonderful, though - and I also found that He just made a whole new section of heart, just as full of love as I had for my first baby!

Love is never diminished by loving someone else.

These are precious stories - I'm enjoying them thoroughly.


(P.S. How did you get Hebrew on your blog?!?!)

Debbie said...

I loved this from beginning to end, but I was not expecting the ending. It got me right smack dab in the heart.

I think I was born face up. Mom always calls it face first, but I think that's what she means. Yep. I always knew that crazy Abby was a kindred soul.

And doesn't Ben look little in this?(Sniff)

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