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!