There was a brief dark moment in our lives not so terribly long ago. I had just left college and was battling severe insomnia, which is much more than just not sleeping well. On top of that, our landlord had just sold our rental unit, we had less than 30 days to move, and TJ got laid off from his job.
To sort of escape for a few days, TJ and I decided to take a trip to see my father in my hometown. While there, we decided to eat at one of my favorite bbq joints. I ordered what I always did... but I couldn't stomach it. It smelled horrible. As a matter of fact, everything smelled horrible- and I could smell everything. One of my relatives joked that I must be pregnant. Ha! Not possible.
Two days after we returned from our trip, I woke up and felt... something. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what the issue was but I certainly felt different, somehow. I was on autopilot when I took a pregnancy test, fully expecting it to be negative. I even remember asking myself what the hell I was doing. So there I sat on the edge of the tub, a 3 year old Adrian perched outside the door. TJ was still sleeping soundly a few rooms away. Two little pink lines popped up almost instantly... and I almost hit the floor.
I didn't tell TJ. I made an appointment with a midwife- I didn't even tell the receptionist. The next day, ready to go to my appointment, I finally broke down and told TJ I thought I might be pregnant. I didn't think a person could turn so white. At the office, I finally told the nurse about my positive test and she immediately had me take another one. That, too, was positive. It was official: I was pregnant with my second child.
My first trimester was intense. Morning sickness hit this time too, although not nearly as awful with Adrian. I had my first ultrasound at 6 weeks. There was this tiny little bean connected to a tiny little blob. I stared at the print of it for hours in amazement that that tiny little being had a heartbeat, was my baby. TJ and I created this beautiful little life, this family. How profound is that?
This will certainly sound horrible, but I dreaded having another boy. By that point, I knew this was probably my last child and I desperately wanted a little girl. I struggled to come to terms that that wouldn't happen. I convinced myself I was having a little boy and we named him Julian Dean. Amazingly, TJ got called back to work... the day of my ultrasound. I went in alone, already shaken and dreading being by myself when I was told one of my biggest dreams wouldn't happen. Awful, I know.
On the ultrasound screen, my little baby was curled up tight but appeared to be healthy. I wouldn't be finding out the gender that day. I was devastated. After getting cleaned up, the nurse realized how hurt I was and offered to try again. This time, there my little one was, stretched out and proud as could be. "See that little butterfly-looking area? There's your girl," the technician said. I bawled all the way out the door. Back home, my mother and sister were anxiously waiting, as they also desperately wanted a little girl running around. I tried my best to keep a straight face, to not get hysterical. I handed my mother a gift bag containing a little football and a sports themed card. Inside read, "Remember, girls can play sports too. Love, Bella Jo". TJ still didn't know what we were having; I didn't want to tell him over the phone so I told him I didn't find out and had to go back another day. That night, I showed him all the ultrasound pictures of our baby all curled up. At the very last photo, I blurted out, "And here is your beautiful daughter." Beautiful, indeed.
The rest of my pregnancy was hard. I had a pinched nerve in my hip and walking was excruciating. I still suffered from severe insomnia. My midwife went on maternity leave to deliver her twins and I got stuck seeing the idiot who delivered Adrian for a few months. He was not invested in my pregnancy and didn't seem to care very much about my health. The baby wouldn't move for extended periods of time and it scared me senseless. I charted everything for months- every kick, every hiccup. There were even a few terrifying instances where we couldn't pick up a heartbeat.
Around midnight on February 23, I started having regular contractions. My midwife, newly returned from maternity leave, determined I was definitely in early labor. As the day went on, contractions still very regular, it was obvious I was not going to go into active labor on my own. At 4:30pm I was admitted to the hospital and my water was broken. Hard labor started immediately. My contractions were right on top of each other and incredibly intense. I got in the laboring tub for about 15 minutes before a nurse who had heard my screaming came in saying it shouldn't be this hard or this fast yet. I had to get out to be checked by my midwife. I could see from the look on her face that she was shocked. We were ready to roll NOW. TJ almost missed it because he had been outside calling family. At that point, I sort of just went inside my own head. I followed my body's lead and let it do what it was meant to do. It was a beautiful natural delivery that was even more than I hoped for. I have never been more proud of my body.
At 6:31pm on February 23, 2010, Isabella Joanne entered this world, weighing in at 9 pounds and 9 ounces. She had gorgeous blue eyes and dark blond hair. She was and still is perfectly healthy. The second she was put on my chest, we made eye contact and my entire world fell into place. This little girl finished the puzzle of our family. I never knew I could fall in love like that.
Today, Bella is 2 and a half years old and the center of my world. She is unbelievably smart and sassy. She is a tomboy that loves anything that sparkles, dressing up, running around after her big brother and snuggling up with her mama. I absolutely adore her. After all, she was my dream come true.
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