As you come to him, the living Stone--rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him--you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 2: 4-5

Sunday, August 22, 2010

I remember it like it was yesterday. I had taken Friday off from work to take Daryl to go and get his kidney stones removed. I had opted to leave all my school work at school, certain I would be back on Monday and I would be able to pull something together. Daryl was understandably a little grumpy and we needed to get a chatty Hannah out of the house for a while. We went to the park that day and it was so hot. I sat in the shade while Sarah and Maddy took pictures of Hannah playing in the sand, Hannah sliding on the slide, Hannah being afraid of the teeter totter. Then, hot and hungry, and at the request of Hannah, we went through the drive-thru of Wendy's and got Frosty's. Took more pictures. Later that day, we all piled in the car again and drove down to Locust Grove to watch Josh run in a cross country meet. Took tons and tons of pictures. I think we took more pictures August 22 last year than any other day ever.

I remember remarking to Daryl that I'd noticed some contractions. Pretty regular contractions. Sorta painful contractions. But they went away when I walked, and boy had I walked. "Are we going to have a baby tonight?" he asked. "Nah" I told him, confidently. "Good," he said, because he was miserable, in pain, having been sent home with a catheter. In fact, he slept in the recliner that night, claiming it was more comfortable

I went to bed around ten. I was tired. And I slept. Sleep had eluded me for months, but that night, I slept. It was as if God was letting me rest, knowing what lay ahead, knowing I would need my strength. I woke up at 4:00 on the dot. Struggled to sit up, heard a pop, and felt my water break. Waddled downstairs and as soon as I walked in the room, called Daryl's name, and he just knew.

The rest is sort of a blur. The waking up the kids and letting them know we were leaving, the ride to the hospital, the check in. The three hours of seering pain while they let me "get uncomfortable" before they gave me the pitocin and epidural. My dad coming in to see me, taking one look at me moaning and writhing in pain and walking back out the door.

Then the one push and she was here. So sweet, so cute, so tiny. Crying and laughing at the same time. My sweet sweet Charlotte. I can't believe that it has been a year already. Tomorrow she will eat cake and open presents and she will officially no longer be my baby.

My sweet baby, you have been an absolute joy and blessing. I love you more than I thought possible. Happy Day Before Your Birthday!

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