The story of Joseph
I have completely become a slacker!
I recovered from my mystery illness. Thanksgiving is almost here - YAY! And I just celebrated my youngest son's birthday on Saturday. He turned 9. I can't believe it's gone by so fast.
Joseph is a very special kid. He wasn't exactly planned, but he wasn't exactly unplanned either. He was conceived on Valentine's Day in the usual manner. Nothing else about him has been usual.
He is my 4th child. While I carried him I was completely convinced (with the help of 3 ultrasounds) that he was a girl. It would be perfect. I'd have two boys and two girls and all would be right with the world. The church I was attending at the time gave me an incredible baby shower with the most beatiful little girl clothes you could imagine. My name for the baby was Sarah Elisabeth.
In church one day, God dropped the name Joseph on me. I knew, without a doubt, the baby's name was going to have to be Joseph. I didn't even consider the baby might be a boy. It was clear to me I would have to name my little girl Joseph. Not Josephine... Joseph.
My due date of November 11th came and went and my belly felt heavier and heavier. It became hard to even walk. Having had some experience with big babies (my second, Nathan, was 10 lbs. 1 oz., and my third, Katie, was 10 lbs.), I finally went to the doctor on November 17th and begged for relief.
"I feel like this baby is really big. Get her out."
"You're just tired of being pregnant."
"Yes, and I feel like this baby is really big. Get her out."
Disgusted sigh. "Ok. If you just can't handle it anymore I'll make arrangements to induce you tomorrow." He reaches for the phone and begins to punch numbers.
"Wait. How big do you think the baby is? Should I wait?"
Sigh + eye roll. "The baby is probably between 7 and 8 pounds right now. I prefer not to induce, but if you're this tired we'll go ahead and arrange it."
Great, now I have guilt.
He tells me to be back at the hospital by 5 the next morning to be induced.
I start feeling funny at about midnight. Contractions become regular and a little painful, so I take a shower, shave my legs, and fix my hair and make-up between contractions. I even feel motivated enough to paint my toenails. Now blood is coming so I wake up the dad.
"It's time to go."
He squints at the clock. "No it's not. It's only 4. We don't have to leave until 4:30."
Contraction hits. "We have to go NOW. I am already in labor."
He gets up and throws on clothes. We have to stop for gas at 4 in the morning. Yes, he has a week-long overdue pregnant wife and doesn't have gas in his truck.
At the hospital, my labor is confirmed. Four hours later, after a delightful epidural, they tell me I'm only 7 centimeters dilated and have a while to go. Everybody leaves to take a break, including Dad who goes out for a cigarette.
My sister, Terri, helps me flip onto my side and I feel pressure. She runs out to get the nurse, who doesn't want to come back because she just checked me. Terri bodily forces the nurse to come back, nurse lifts my leg, gasps, stuffs a pillow between my legs and tells me to hold on. The baby's head is crowning and they have to get the doctor.
Joseph was born a few minutes later with only two pushes. I have never felt such exquisite relief in my life. Not only was he a boy, he was big. He weighed 10 pounds, 4 ozs. And he was beautiful.
From the beginning he was calm and cuddly and wonderful. He is bright, funny, and like all of my children, wise beyond his years.
My idea of perfect was two boys and two girls. But God gave me a wonderful bonus with Joe. Good thing He knows better than me.
I recovered from my mystery illness. Thanksgiving is almost here - YAY! And I just celebrated my youngest son's birthday on Saturday. He turned 9. I can't believe it's gone by so fast.
Joseph is a very special kid. He wasn't exactly planned, but he wasn't exactly unplanned either. He was conceived on Valentine's Day in the usual manner. Nothing else about him has been usual.
He is my 4th child. While I carried him I was completely convinced (with the help of 3 ultrasounds) that he was a girl. It would be perfect. I'd have two boys and two girls and all would be right with the world. The church I was attending at the time gave me an incredible baby shower with the most beatiful little girl clothes you could imagine. My name for the baby was Sarah Elisabeth.
In church one day, God dropped the name Joseph on me. I knew, without a doubt, the baby's name was going to have to be Joseph. I didn't even consider the baby might be a boy. It was clear to me I would have to name my little girl Joseph. Not Josephine... Joseph.
My due date of November 11th came and went and my belly felt heavier and heavier. It became hard to even walk. Having had some experience with big babies (my second, Nathan, was 10 lbs. 1 oz., and my third, Katie, was 10 lbs.), I finally went to the doctor on November 17th and begged for relief.
"I feel like this baby is really big. Get her out."
"You're just tired of being pregnant."
"Yes, and I feel like this baby is really big. Get her out."
Disgusted sigh. "Ok. If you just can't handle it anymore I'll make arrangements to induce you tomorrow." He reaches for the phone and begins to punch numbers.
"Wait. How big do you think the baby is? Should I wait?"
Sigh + eye roll. "The baby is probably between 7 and 8 pounds right now. I prefer not to induce, but if you're this tired we'll go ahead and arrange it."
Great, now I have guilt.
He tells me to be back at the hospital by 5 the next morning to be induced.
I start feeling funny at about midnight. Contractions become regular and a little painful, so I take a shower, shave my legs, and fix my hair and make-up between contractions. I even feel motivated enough to paint my toenails. Now blood is coming so I wake up the dad.
"It's time to go."
He squints at the clock. "No it's not. It's only 4. We don't have to leave until 4:30."
Contraction hits. "We have to go NOW. I am already in labor."
He gets up and throws on clothes. We have to stop for gas at 4 in the morning. Yes, he has a week-long overdue pregnant wife and doesn't have gas in his truck.
At the hospital, my labor is confirmed. Four hours later, after a delightful epidural, they tell me I'm only 7 centimeters dilated and have a while to go. Everybody leaves to take a break, including Dad who goes out for a cigarette.
My sister, Terri, helps me flip onto my side and I feel pressure. She runs out to get the nurse, who doesn't want to come back because she just checked me. Terri bodily forces the nurse to come back, nurse lifts my leg, gasps, stuffs a pillow between my legs and tells me to hold on. The baby's head is crowning and they have to get the doctor.
Joseph was born a few minutes later with only two pushes. I have never felt such exquisite relief in my life. Not only was he a boy, he was big. He weighed 10 pounds, 4 ozs. And he was beautiful.
From the beginning he was calm and cuddly and wonderful. He is bright, funny, and like all of my children, wise beyond his years.
My idea of perfect was two boys and two girls. But God gave me a wonderful bonus with Joe. Good thing He knows better than me.
posted by Cas at 9:41 PM
2 Comments:
OMG! You slacker!! :-) I'm so glad to read a new post from you!!! Missed you! Love you!
He sounds wonderful. Good thing the doc didn't let you go any further, huh? Joseph would have been almost 11 pounds!!!
Post a Comment
<< Home