Our Newest Little Man

"I'll be out of town until Sunday. I need you to sit and not do anything until then."

...I guess I should have listened. I didn't tell him then that my parents had already given us tickets at Christmas to see Little Big Town in Wendover, which was that weekend.

Dr. Smith's request that I stay put had been weighing on my mind since Wednesday, when he told me I was dilated to a 1.5. I knew that wasn't much, so I figured I'd be fine - but felt deep down that maybe we shouldn't go. Being a huge fan of Little Big Town, I pushed the feeling aside. Things would probably be fine.

Having not been able to shake the feeling of unsurety of going to the concert by Saturday afternoon, I knelt beside my bed to say a quick prayer. The answer I received was that I should probably stay home, but things would be fine if I didn't. It was up to me. As indecisive as I am, it wasn't necessarily the answer I wanted to hear.

Still unsure of going one hour later, we packed everything in the car and headed to my parents' house anyway. We left Jack with a brave TJ and Dixie, who had volunteered to watch all of the kids overnight.

We drove to Wendover with Heather and Jeff, who also had tickets, and we followed my parents in a blizzard toward Wendover. We arrived at the Rainbow hotel in one piece, where we ate at the buffet before heading to the concert. Aside from being generally uncomfortable (as most pregnant women are at 36 weeks), I was feeling well. The concert was amazing, and I sat through the entire thing, not even having to use the bathroom once... which, in itself, is a miracle.

The group after the concert

We returned to the hotel shortly after the show, and it didn't take me long to disappear from the smoke-filled lobby, leaving Chris to wander as he pleased. I settled into bed and Chris came up not long afterward. We lay down and attempted to get some sleep on the hotel's hard bed (I actually thought ahead and came prepared with my own pillow, so I wasn't completely miserable), and succeeded... for an hour or so.

I awoke abruptly, after what felt like a few minutes of sleep, to what I thought was pee - causing me to jump out of bed and "run" to the bathroom (as quickly as I could with my legs crossed). I sat for a good while waiting to be done "peeing," furious because I could no longer control my continuously draining bladder whatsoever. When I thought I was done, and after what seemed like forever, I went back to bed after glancing at the clock (1:15 AM) to a questioning Chris.

"Do you think that was your water breaking?"

"I don't think so," I replied.

I really didn't think it was, so I tried drifting off to sleep again - only to be woken again with the same problem, ten minutes later. This time, on my way to the bathroom, I managed to grab my phone sitting next to me on the night stand. Sitting there in the bathroom, I Googled the symptoms of water breaking. Lo and behold, they were the same as mine.

I think my exact thought was, "crap." I called out to Chris unenthusiastically, "Chris... I think my water did break."

Never had I seen Chris act more quickly than I did then. He was at the bathroom door, fully dressed, in an instant - and knocking on the adjoining door in our room the next. My mom answered to Chris telling her that my water had broken, after which she woke up my poor, tired, snoring dad to tell him we had a trip to the hospital ahead of us. Meanwhile, I was on the phone with a nurse at Alta View, discussing my dilemma of being over 150 miles and over three hours away. I was advised to head back to Salt Lake, and if my contractions got to be less than five minutes apart, to stop at the nearest hospital. Not wanting to deliver in Wendover (who does?), we packed up quick and were on the road within ten minutes - leaving Heather and Jeff behind and sending a text telling them where we had gone (which wasn't received until about four hours later by a shocked sister who thought I was kidding).

Having never felt contractions with Jack, I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to gauge how far apart they were this time. About 20 minutes into the ride, I knew this labor would be different from my first. Not only could I feel my contractions, they were intensely uncomfortable. Not intolerable, but not pleasant.

They started out about ten minutes apart. They were seven minutes apart with about 75 miles to go, and five minutes apart when we got to Tooele. The hospital there would have been the nearest if we decided to stop, but we figured since we had made it 120 miles, why not go the extra 30 and try making it to Sandy?

The next 15 minutes actually went by rather quickly, and we arrived safely at Alta View around 3:15 AM, cutting the trip time in half without any trouble (not only did we dodge any police that would have pulled us over instantly, the road was dry... which was also a miracle, the road being wet from the snow on the way down).

We entered the building to a completely silent, staring staff. Having come from Wendover, they were expecting a much worse situation than me simply walking in and being dilated to a four, which is what we soon discovered after I was admitted.

Within the next hour, I went to being dilated to a five and a half. I decided to get the epidural, which happened around 5:00 AM - and slowed everything down, like it had with Jack. Also, like it had with Jack, it made me itch like crazy... perhaps the worst part of the entire labor experience (aside from pushing, of course). After not progressing much in about four hours, they gave me a (very small, upon request) dose of pitocin. I didn't want it, but things were needing to get going. And they did. I was at an eight at about 9:30, and at a nine and a half at 10:50.

The tiredness had really kicked in around 7:00 AM, and I was able to get maybe an hour of sleep. Needless to say, I didn't really feel up to pushing. But - as is usually the case with labor - ready or not, it was time. I was dilated to a ten at 11:15, with a little help from Holly over the phone, giving me some ideas to help me dilate faster. Dr. Tanner came in (sadly, Dr. Smith was still out of town) and I started pushing... dismissing the fact that my contractions were still eight full minutes apart.

Luckily, it was only three or four sets of pushes... having to sit in between each contraction for eight full minutes was not my idea of fun, to say the least. It was worth it, though. Zy arrived at 11:43 AM, and put on my chest, where he stayed for a few minutes. I never had any bonding moment with Jack at the beginning, so this was a first for me.

I will never forget that moment. He was perfect (albeit a little bruised from having to wait in between pushes as well). He weighed seven pounds, one ounce, and measured 19 inches long - which came as a shock to most of us, with him being four weeks early. I'm thankful he was... a couple of extra pounds wouldn't have been ideal to push and wait for eight minutes four times over.

The proud dad...

... And the hat that dad made for him (which impressed every nurse, having been made by my husband).

Over the next couple of days, there were some rough spots - including a blood transfusion, some fainting, and three separate catheters. Yuck. But, we were able to have Zy in our room with us, instead of having to take a trip to the nursery every time we wanted to hold him, or even see him, like we had to with Jack. In addition, I didn't look like a sumo wrestler this time around, which was a major plus.

And we got lots of time to kiss and snuggle our new little guy.

When Jack came to see his little brother, it was an occasion I won't soon forget. He spent a few minutes kissing, squeezing and poking the baby - and the rest of the time pushing the nurses' button on my hospital bed. They probably had to ask if I needed anything about eight times. When I think about it, I'm not sure why I expected anything different.

This picture represents what he has been doing to Zy for the last seven weeks. Turns out that the name Zy sounds like "his eye," and Jack is happy to show us where they are on his little face. Poor kid.

But, the best part of our three-day stretch in the hospital was that we went from a family of three to a family of four... and we couldn't be more blessed.

It's strange how it feels as though he's always been here. We love this baby and already can't imagine life without him!