Tell how you and your significant other met and if you have any children their birth stories,
post on your blog, then tag 3 other bloggers to do the same.
How We Met (the super short version):
Of course I have this well over-documented in other places, but for those of you who want the short version, here we go:
Rob and Tamra, October 2000
Rob was just off his mission and back at BYU. I was returning for my sophomore year. The very first night we met, some people from our ward were watching a BYU football game in the lobby of his building. He stared at me all night, which was flattering, but a little creepy. After the game I asked if anyone wanted to play ping-pong with me, and Rob said he would play. I wasn't impressed with Rob, but then we played ping-pong and he made me laugh so hard that I cried (thereby missing the ball and giving Rob his only point of the game). He was not intimidated by my skills (Wow. There are men who can lose at games and not sulk about it?!) and this was very cool to me. Afterwards we walked around and talked for an hour or two. I was already in love.
So I did what any girl would do: I stalked him. I positioned myself strategically in his life so that he couldn't avoid me. Eventually he fell in love with me, too. The best part of us getting together was that Rob could be himself around me, and I think Rob is hilarious. Rob needs a girl who thinks he's funny. He craves it. And so 6 weeks after we met we were engaged. 2 months after that we were married.
Miciah's Birth Story (Provo, UT), October 16th, 2001:
Miciah was born 10 months after Rob and I were married, and yes, it was on purpose. Miciah was ready to join our family (and take it over, as it turns out (for the better, of course)).
The birth story isn't very exciting, but here it is:
Miciah wouldn't cooperate with us at the 20-week ultrasound visit, so we weren't sure if she was a girl or boy. Plus, Miciah was a type of breech that you can't deliver vaginally. This isn't uncommon for 20 weeks, but still it was concerning to me. We went in for a second ultrasound at about 32 weeks, and she was still breech (inverse is the type she was, if I remember right). So our doctor sent us off to those doctors who turn babies the right way (I've heard mixed things about this procedure, and I was a little freaked out. Plus, they wouldn't let me eat or drink anything, and I was far enough along that EVERYTHING looked tasty, I was so hungry. I was tempted to chew on wood, metal, anything). The doctors discovered a septum in my uterus (a separation making my uterus heart-shaped instead of pear-shaped) and told me that if they tried to turn the baby, my uterus could burst and me and the baby could both die in minutes. Umm, let's skip that, please.
My uterus, as pictured after my C-section with Teancom. Yes, it's on top of my belly. The doctor kept saying, "Check this out. It's pretty cool," and interns were flocking to see the strange uterus. Umm, it's not cool. Could you just put the thing back into my body, please?
So we scheduled the C-section for October 16th, 2001, 8 in the morning. Meant we had to be there SO early. 5 or something. That's fine, though, since we couldn't sleep anyway. The drugs they gave me were awful and made me SO COLD and I wanted to puke. I was ready to marry the anaesthesiologist, though, cause he kept giving me that anti-puke drug. I still remember his name was Mike. Heavenly Mike. Miciah had the cord wrapped around her neck 3 times, but no big deal, I guess. It didn't affect her at all. The doctor took Miciah out of my belly and the first thing they said was "She has a good set of lungs." Is that supposed to make me feel better? She was so LOUD. She still is. ... I listened intently for the APGAR scores, both of them were fantastic. Then Rob left with the baby and I stayed in the room while they cleaned me up. No one really seemed to care about me any more, and no more anti-puke drugs, so I puked up what was left in my tummy and felt very alone and very weak. Miciah, though, was a BEAUTIFUL baby.
Elijah's Birth Story (Provo, UT), March 30th, 2004:
Elijah was born C-section, as well. This one was elective, since I chose to do another C instead of a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean). VBAC's scare me to death. Too many stories of laboring for 30 hours to have to do another C-section anyway. No thanks.
This time I puked BEFORE the surgery (funny enough, I puked up the anti-puking drug they gave me to drink) and that made this one SO MUCH better than the first one. I was able to pay attention a little more to what was going on. Elijah was brought out of my belly and the first thing I thought was, "He's so QUIET!" Compared to Miciah, everything is quiet. He was also bright white. I said, "Oh. He's white like me." Miciah had been dark like Rob and I was happy to see Elijah was white. But he was too white, since babies are supposed to be pink! His APGAR scores were pretty good, though. 8 and 9, if I remember right (out of a 10-point scale). Rob left with the baby and this time he was gone for a very long time. He came back to my room finally and told me that Elijah needed to be put on oxygen and would need a blood transfusion. His hematocrit (sp?) was really low. Yikes! I hadn't even HELD him! So they wheeled Elijah into my room right before they took him to the NICU, and I got to hold him for a minute or two. He looked fine to me. Still, they took him off.
It was good incentive for me to get out of my bed and into a wheelchair so I could go see him that night. With Miciah they gave me too much drug, so I couldn't walk until the next day. I couldn't even wiggle my TOES for hours and hours. With Elijah, though, I could wiggle my toes throughout the surgery (and yes, I tried over and over, just to be sure). So I took a dose of drugs and then willed myself into a wheelchair. It was hard, but I tried to make it look easy so that I could go see my son.
Rob and his grandfather gave Elijah a blessing and we got reassurance that Elijah would be okay. It was really really weird seeing Elijah in the NICU. Other babies in there were really sick and so small. Lots of premies. Elijah was HUGE compared to all of them.
By the next morning, they'd moved him into the less intensive care NICU. Then the nurses couldn't agree on if he was doing fine or not. They had a feeding tube down him and then complained that he wasn't breastfeeding well enough. Hello! Sometimes I wonder about medical professionals. Then they'd bring up new, not-so-good news to me when Rob wasn't around and I'd break down as the overly emotional new mother who was so worn out I couldn't take care of myself! Finally, though, they let us all go home together. The one combative nurse said, "He's proven himself." Whatever. I think he was healthy enough all along and he would have been fine without all the messing with him.
A week later I took him into the doctor for a check-up and also to get him circumcised (a traumatizing experience, actually, and they did a bad job, but anyway), since they forgot at the hospital and I wasn't giving them one more reason to keep him there! The nurse looked at me and said, "Oh, is this the baby that was sick?" "No," I said; Elijah wasn't sick at all. She seemed a little surprised by that. "Wasn't he the one in the NICU?" That's right. "Oh! Yeah, he was. But he wasn't sick." The nurse said, "Oh. What was wrong with him, then?" I shook my head. No one knew then and no one knows now. We have received absolutely NO answers for what really was "wrong" with Elijah.
Teancom's Birth Story (Cincinnati, OH), July 21st, 2006:
Teancom was the only one of our three children not planned. We found out we were expecting and I almost cried right there. I do NOT do well pregnant. The prospect of being depressed and out of it for another 18 months just didn't appeal to me. I started making deals with God right then and there. First off, I couldn't do another NICU baby (Elijah). Second off, I couldn't do another colicky baby (Miciah). Emotionally, I just couldn't do it. Third off (can you say third off?), I just couldn't do a fussy baby. I needed this baby to be a gem (or at least be not horrible) until he/she was 2 years old, and then all bets were off. I figured this was all kosher to ask of God, since apparently it was HIS plan for us to have a baby this time, whereas the first one was Miciah's plan, and the second one--Elijah--was my plan. This was God's plan and I needed Him to know what exactly needed to be part of that plan.
About 30 weeks into the pregnancy I asked for drugs to deal with my Post-Partum Depression. Who knew it can start Pre-Partum. The drugs made me a person again and Miciah stopped flinching every time I moved. I never hit the girl, but I saw fear in her eyes, like she truly believed I would. I truly believed one of these times I would, too. Hence the drugs. Beautiful, wonderful, amazing drugs. I could look myself in the mirror again. Seriously, I hadn't even noticed that I'd stopped looking in the mirror. I just didn't recognize my eyes as a crazy person. This would all be funny if it didn't happen to me, I think. But no. It wasn't funny. Moral of this story: If you need drugs, TAKE THEM! Wonderful things.
As for his birth story. July 21st was the date the doctor chose, which was neat, since it's a significant family date (my grandfather and sister were both born on this day). ... It was a very uneventful C-section. The baby got to stay with us (I told my doctor that they took the baby away at the other hospital I'd gone to, and he called that "inhumane"), and Rob and Teancom never had to leave my side. In fact, I asked Rob this time to NOT leave my side. I was tired of feeling like chopped meat while the doctors stitched me up and everyone else left. Rob stayed right by me, holding my hand, and taking pictures of Teancom from across the room. It was beautiful. No NICU. No trauma. No loud baby. Perfect APGAR scores. My milk came in faster. He latched on just fine. And he was a beautiful, well-behaved baby. He is still a beautiful, well-behaved 2-year-old (remember, all bets are off now, and he's STILL a gem). I really lucked out. Either that, or God heard my desperate pleas. I tend to think it was a little of both. I like to say that I asked God to give me only what I could handle and that God figured I couldn't handle very much at all.
I'm not tagging anyone by name. If you want to do this, then cool. If not, don't bother.
1 comment:
Oh yay! I love the birth and marriage story. I didn't know that about Elijah. Good thing everyone is happy and healthy now. (:
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