The last time I blogged I was home sick from work with one one-year-old baby. Suffice it to say….it’s been a minute. A wonderful minute. Full of watching my first born grow and change and talk your ear off, nervously going through the transfer of my second frozen embryo, finding out it worked (!!!), being pregnant with a toddler and finally welcoming that baby boy.
I’m going to pick the story up there:)
First of all his name. Thatcher. Thatcher was almost Max. Three years ago, when I was pregnant with Hartley, that was my boy name. Maxwell. Max. But when I was actually pregnant with this boy he didn’t feel like “Max.” Eventually, after much, much discussion we settled on Thatcher. I don’t know how or why. Much like with Hartley—-I said it out loud and just knew….that’s my baby:)
Throughout my pregnancy I prayed Thatcher would not surprise us by joining the family a month early like his sister. I learned with her that preemies are hard, Nicu stays harder, and if he’d wait until his due date I’d be on maternity leave through Christmas:)
We were trucking along fine until about two weeks before that due date. My wonderful doctor noted that I was 35–“advanced maternal age”—and suggested we schedule an induction for 39 weeks. I agreed, but couldn’t shake my reservations. Would an early induction result in a C section I wouldn’t have needed otherwise? Would he benefit from a few more days to grow? If I gave him that time, would he come on his own as his sister did?
Ultimately, I called my doctor, explained my reservations and got her approval to wait four more days…I’d deliver Monday, October 2 if he didn’t come before.
How different it was to know when my baby would be born! I packed a bag…packed his bag…Matt and I went to dinner…I decorated for Halloween…annoyed my entire family with projects that simply must be completed before Thatcher’s arrival. In truth, as much as I advertise *not* being a person who likes surprises—-I didn’t really like knowing when he was coming.
The countdown was a little overwhelming:)
Very early October 2, we went to the hospital. Of course this was also the morning the world would wake up to news of the horrific massacre in Las Vegas. Here I was..beginning one of the best days of my life when it was the worst imaginable for so many others…everyone who came into our room seemed to look at the TV, pause, shake their head…We ran out of ways to say “this is awful.”
Without going into detail no one wants(;)), I had progressed enough that “the show was on the road.” With Hartley, I labored alllll day. It was clear Thatcher’s final descent would be much shorter.
At 1, we told Matt’s dad to go grab lunch, my dad to put Hartley down for a nap, my mom and Matt’s mom were casually chatting when the nurse surprisingly announced it was go time. My babies apparently like to make us sweat at the end. Thatcher’s heart rate wasn’t great, and we were in a hurry.
In a flash, my doctor was there. In two flashes Thatcher was there. We didn’t have time to get out the camera. Matt didn’t even have time to say he didn’t really want to cut the cord;)
Thatcher cried. A sweet, little cry. Like a lamb who’d been very offended. But he cried immediately, and for a decently long time. I was very glad we hadn’t made him come earlier, poor little guy:)
They laid him on my right side. And as I looked down at him I thought…he’s really cute. I know allll moms think that…but he really did just look cute. His eyes were open so wide. His lips pouting. Looking annoyed and confused by the whole operation.
The whole time I was pregnant, I couldn’t imagine how my heart would find space to love another baby. Oh, but it did.
It must have doubled in size when I saw my little boy.
I see my dad and my grandfather in his little face…plus a little of his sister when he smiles….which is often:)
He’s the kind of baby that’s easy to fall in love with…happy…quiet…easygoing….observant.
Thoughful Thatcher, I say. My little boy who, like his sister, was so worth the wait.
I hope I’ll be back here, writing, before another year goes by. But if I’m not, it’s because I’m enjoying all the wonderful, wild minutes with my two biggest blessings.