Two Months Old

My Girls

I love these girls more than I ever thought was possible.

If Anika is 33, than Bethany is 34.

What to do on a Saturday night in November

Or

What I had on Sunday from my Saturday night plans was way better than a hangover

It’s no secret that I hated being pregnant.

Both times.

Mother Nature blessed me with the ability to get pregnant with barely trying but balanced it with doling out every single possible negative symptom.  The first trimester began with non-stop nausea.  I spent so many of my afternoons at work not at my desk, but, rather sitting on the toilet leaning against the cool tile of the bathroom wall.  By the time the nausea retreated, the heartburn had already crept in.  I should have bought stock in TUMS and Zantac for the amount of them I took not to get rid of the heartburn but just to keep it so that my esophagus didn’t melt.  I have no worries of osteoporosis as I am certain I have more than my share of calcium stores after this pregnancy. 

Chasing after a toddler in the summer heat and humidity of Minnesota is no picnic in the second trimester.  Global warming was in full effect this summer and to find relief; I braved the pool nearly every day with Anika.  To make matters worse, I was in a wedding at the end of July.  An outdoor wedding at a venue that didn’t have air conditioning.  At five o’clock in full sun.  On the hottest day of the fucking summer.  In a body that I certainly didn’t want photographed. 

Fatigue, backache, restless legs, an internal temperature of about 116°, pitted edema, heartburn, carpal tunnel syndrome, hemorrhoids, worsening of my varicose vein(s), 50+ pound weight gain despite spinning 2-3 times a week, peeing a tablespoon every ten minutes, breathing like Darth Vadar, constant Braxton Hicks, and a baby sitting so low I swear she was already at zero station made the third trimester less than tolerable.  When I was pregnant with Anika, I was a super bitch and it was tough on everyone in my life.  This time I wasn’t bitchy, I was emotional, hormonal, and sad, and it was mostly tough on me.  (Apparently, my psyche deemed it necessary for me to experience yet another form of depression: perinatal depression.  Hooray.)  My sister was on the receiving end of countless phone calls from me crying hysterically.  I went through three rolls of toilet paper on my desk just sopping up the tears from my crying spells.  My coworkers stopped asking if I was okay; just quietly acknowledged me and carried on with their activities.  I hate that my daughter saw me cry so many times.  Anika would say “Mama sad?  Anika sad, too” and that would make me cry harder.  I hope she doesn’t remember.

Then things got scary.  At my midwife appointment at 36.5 weeks, my weight and blood pressure caused some alarm.  I’d gained 10 pounds in two weeks (which really sucked since I was actually gaining a normal amount of weight {for a woman who started at a normal weight, which I did not, but who’s really asking}) and my blood pressure was elevated.  I saw John, the male CNM, that visit and he was quite concerned.  I’m sure if it had been just one or the other, it would have been no big deal, but the combination of the two are signs of pregnancy induced hypertension, which could develop into pre-eclampsia.  John asked if there was a possibility of me being able to take some time off until the baby came.  I looked at him like he was insane.  He said, “So either you’re delivered or working, huh?”  Yep.  I told him that I did NOT want to be induced and he replied that I wasn’t really helping myself out with my edema and blood pressure.  I was told that if I wasn’t working to lie down and rest.  I asked if I could still work out and John said no.  Then I got to hop up on the table for my Group Beta strep test and to see if I was dilated or effaced yet.  Because of the threat of induction, I was really hoping to show some kind of progress, but I knew that even if I did, I would mean absolutely nothing.  I was negative with the Group B strep but wasn’t dilated or effaced.  They took some blood in addition to the urine I had already left and ran some tests to make sure everything checked out okay.  John told me that they’d want to watch me a bit more closely, to come back on Friday, and they’d see me twice a week until I delivered.

I left my appointment and got into the car and cried.  The thought of being induced threw me into hysterics.  Immediately, my mind had me having a c-section.  My fear was that I’d have to be induced; they’d put me on a Pitocin drip, the contractions would be more than I could handle, I’d get an epidural, not progress because I wouldn’t be able to move, and end up with a c-section.  I’ve know too many people that this has happened to and it goes completely against my birthing belief system.  I went into panic mode, intent on bringing my labor on by myself. 

My original plan was to wait until I had hit 37 weeks before I started the tricks to bring labor on but got busy right away.  The first plan of business was to have a little talk with the new girl.  On my way to work (after I got lost in a detour trying to get to Bruegger’s Bagels and ended up in St Paul – long description that ended in me sending a text to my sister reading “Get me some damn GPS for Xmas.  Ended up in fucking St Paul”), I told her that I needed her to cooperate with me and come out on my terms, even if it was the only time she ever listened to me in her entire life.

The next two and a half weeks were filled with my various attempts to lure Baby B out.  Luckily, when I went in for my appointment at 37.5 weeks, my blood pressure was closer to normal, there was no additional abnormal weight gain, no presence of protein in my blood, and I was cleared of the twice a week regimen.  I worked my reflex points endlessly, got a pedicure, walked around the neighborhood, traipsed through the boulevards and peoples’ yards, clomped along with one foot up on the curb to open my pelvis, bounced on the ball every night, tortured my taste buds with black cohosh, and even had sex.  The most frustrating thing was that each evening I would have mild contractions but wake up the next morning still pregnant.

Each day that passed, I got more and more uncomfortable.  Last time I was pregnant, I had gone out to dinner with my mom, sister, and our friend Joy the night before I delivered.  Six months later, Jess, Joy, and I had dinner together the night before Joy had her son.  Jess, Joy, and I were together for my Blessingway and we thought for sure I would go into labor after that.  No such luck.  Then Joy had the great idea that we get together again the following weekend; her thought was that there were too many other people at the Blessingway and it interfered with the dynamic of getting things going for me.  Again, no such luck.  I thought maybe she was wanted to be a Halloween baby or have the cool birth date of 11.1.11.  Both of those days passed and I began to fear that she was going to hang out until her due date or later.  I was starting to give up.

I decided to give myself a little treat, disguised as a feeble attempt at reflexology.  I scheduled a facial and asked my esthetician to massage my feet and ankles instead of my arms and hands.  Mostly, it was just nice to hide in the dark and have someone wash my face.  I had reached and passed the point where I didn’t want to be seen in public anymore.

I woke up every morning a bit more swollen than the night before.  My legs were swelling up into my calves; by the end of the day, my jeans were starting to feel a little bit snug on them.  I DON’T wear skinny jeans and that’s what they felt like.  Gross.  On November 3^rd, I woke up the most swollen I had been the whole pregnancy and just wanted to stay and hide in bed all day.  I even updated my Facebook status from bed to “Jana Kachmarek is a water retaining sea cow”.  Someone said to get in the pool if possible and a light bulb went off in my head.  I hadn’t been swimming in about a week and recruited my mom to run interference on Anika at the gym that night.  Being in the pool felt wonderful to my water-logged body.  The whole time I was in the pool, I peed almost constantly (everybody pees in pools; I’m just not afraid to admit it).  When I got out, I felt like I had gotten a pound or two of water out of my body.  The next day even, I felt like I was a little less swollen from the wonderful weightlessness of the pool.

I planned on taking Anika to the pool on Friday night, like usual, but had no helper to go with me.  Jess usually hit the pool with us on Fridays after spin class but she had book club.  I was running solo.  It did not go well.  We had a great time in the pool but hauling Anika in and out of the car, getting both of us showered, dried, and dressed after swimming was a disaster that ended in tears.  Mine, not Anika’s.  The only thing I had to look forward to was the champagne waiting for me at home.  I had considered calling the nurse triage line at the midwives’ clinic to ask exactly how much wine I could safely drink at 39 weeks pregnant but decided against it.  Instead, I figured that I’d be safe with one mini bottle of champagne. 

When I got home, I told Jared that I wasn’t leaving the house alone with Anika until after the baby was born.  It was too much work to try to wrestle with her.  I settled down on the couch with my champagne.  It was delicious – the only thing I really craved through the whole pregnancy was cold, cold white wine and the champagne, although not white wine was close enough, and hit the spot.  It made me super tired and off to bed I went.

I woke during the night at about 1:30 to roll over.  I often go to bed without underwear and this night was no exception.  As I rolled over, I felt a warm liquid gush out.  I jumped out of bed as quickly as possible and ran to the bathroom, dripping along the way.  Last time, I was tricked into thinking that my water had broken, when instead, it was my mucous plug.  I wasn't going to be fooled again.  I grabbed a pair of underwear, slapped a pad on, and sat tight to monitor things a bit.  I determined that it was my mucous plug and not amniotic fluid.  I headed back to bed, gave Jared a nudge, and told him that I wasn’t going to work on Monday.

I lay back in bed and tried to go back to sleep but it was a little tricky knowing that soon, I’d be giving birth to my little girl.  I knew how important a good night’s sleep would be and gave in to sleep.  I woke again around 3:30 with mild contractions.  They were irregular and mild enough for me to sleep though.  Anika wandered into our room and crawled in bed with us, as she does pretty much every night.  I was a little sad knowing that it would be the very last night that I would snuggle in bed as a mother of one.

The irregular, mild contractions continued until it was time to get out of bed around 8 am.  Both Jared and I had plans for the day.  Jared was supposed to help his dad work on one of his properties.  Anika and I were supposed to go to Costco with my mom and sister.  I called Jess to tell her that I wasn’t going shopping with them.  The last place I wanted to be while in labor was Costco on a Saturday morning!  That place is a madhouse and the last thing it needed was a woman in labor.  Mom was supposed to pick Anika and me up at 10 and I decided I would send Anika off for the day with Mom and Jess.  The contractions were still mild but coming about every ten or fifteen minutes.  I didn’t know how fast things would progress and I didn’t want Anika to be there with me laboring.  I arranged things with Mom pick Anika up and packed a bag for her for the day and overnight.  I’d already sent a text to my doula, Jodi, to let her know what was happening and that I’d let her know when the contractions were strong enough that I couldn’t handle them alone.  Jared made me French toast for breakfast so I’d have strength for the journey ahead.

I sent a text to my friend Marie, letting her know I was in early labor and asked if I could still borrow her baby name book.  (I had packed our name book away somewhere and despite all the searching Jared did for it, it could not be found.)  Marie only lives a block and a half away so I put Anika in the stroller (at her insistence) and we walked over to get the book.  Nothing really changed since I’d gotten up so I hoped the quick walk would get things moving a bit faster.  Nope.

I talked to Jodi to discuss our game plan.  She said she’d come over to hang out with me whenever I wanted her to.  Since Mom was going to pick Anika up at 10, we decided that she’d head over after Anika was gone.  Mom showed up and I loaded Anika and her stuff into the van.  She was fine with it until she realized that I wasn’t getting in the van with her.  She cried.  I could hear her hollering as I walked away from the van and back up to the house.  I cried, too.

Jodi arrived.  Jared was just hanging out. (He is a real trooper when it comes to labor and delivery.  He has never once complained about my traditional beliefs, ideas, and practices about giving birth and has only just gone along for the ride.  The only thing he kind of raised his eyebrows about what placenta encapsulation.)  I was packing my bag.  If I was a more organized person, I would have had my bag packed already, or at least known where half the stuff was that I wanted to pack.  But with me being me, I was frantically tossing everything out of my underwear drawer in search of a nursing bra.  Once I finally packed the stuff I would need, Jodi and I headed out for a walk. 

We took the same route I had taken two weeks earlier – a mile and a half route of neighborhood streets.  Jodi had me walk in the boulevards to help move my pelvis a bit more as we walked.  Then when we got home, she made me do squats and lunges on the front steps!  I think she has a calling as a physical trainer...  We went inside so I could sit and bounce on the ball.  The whole time, my contractions were still mild and irregular.  After a little bit of discussion, we decided on a plan of action: lunch, nap, and then pumping.

Jodi left to go back to her family.  Jared and I hopped in the car to grab some lunch.  We came home, ate, and off to the bedroom for a nice, toddler-free nap I went.  Contractions increased in intensity as I rested and slept.  I sent a text to Jody (Green) around 2:30 pm saying that I was in early labor and how I had forgotten how much it hurt.  She reminded me that I was the first Trainwreck to deliver without drugs and I could do it again.  At that point, it was exactly what I needed to hear.  I rolled over and slept for another hour and a half.  I might have slept longer but Jess called to see what was going on and to update me on how Anika was doing.  As I talked to her, I was having moderate contractions about every 10-12 minutes.  Last time, Jess didn’t know that I was in labor and had headed to the hospital so I made sure I called or texted her to update her on my progress (or in the morning’s case, lack of).  After talking to her, I got out of bed and went out to the living room to pump.

I pumped both breasts separately since I hadn’t busted out my handy, homemade hands-free pumping bra yet.  It was about 4:45 and the game was on!  After I pumped, things really started moving.  Contractions were significantly stronger within minutes, about every 5-6 minutes for 45-50 seconds for the next hour.  I spent that time watching TV, while bouncing on the ball or swaying in the living room.  I had downloaded a contraction timer for my phone and tried to track contractions but was pretty lousy at it, especially as labor progressed. 

Jodi had advised me to call the hospital ahead of time to make sure they’d have room for me when the time came (Valentine’s Day conception time babies, you know?).  I fought through the horrible automated system and subsequent wrong numbers to get in contact with the right person to have the midwife on call paged.  John Eads (the male CNM) returned my call and I told him I wasn’t sure exactly when, but I’d be seeing him that night to have a baby.  He said they had plenty of room and to call when we were on our way.  I was a little disappointed that it wasn’t one of the other midwives on call, but relieved that it wasn’t the one midwife that I never really liked much or had a good connection with.  I also talked to Jess around the same time and she asked some of the funniest questions: How long will it take?  When are you going to the hospital?  What if you leave too late to make it to the hospital?  You don’t want to have the baby in the car, do you?  Of course, I didn’t know the answer to any of those questions, aside from the delivering in the car one.  (It was a bit before 7 pm at this point.)

After I got off the phone with Jess, I laid down on the couch to labor.  I thought I might be hungry and asked Jared to make me some Ramen noodles.  I remember thinking that they sounded really good but after he made them for me, I couldn’t eat them.  Around 7:30, I texted Jodi to tell her that I was definitely active and having a hard time handling it.  She said she’d be leaving in 5 minutes.  I think Jared asked me if she was coming to our house or if she was meeting us at the hospital.  I don’t remember much more about what happened in the time that I texted Jodi and the time that she arrived.  I know I was in the bathroom when she got to our house.  Sitting on the toilet was a comfortable position to sit in so I stayed there after heading in to poop (another good sign of labor – elimination!).  I don’t know how long I stayed in there; I do know I was at the stage where I needed to close my eyes to focus but didn’t need to make noise yet.

I’m pretty sure that both Jared and Jodi asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital or needed to go to the hospital.  Jared told Jodi that I was indecisive (last time Jared had to make the decision that it was time to go).  I’m not sure which one made the decision, but somehow it was decided that we were heading to the hospital.  I learned the next day that Jared was in the middle of making something to eat for himself when we headed out.  He choked down a quick Spam sandwich and ended up tossing his cookies because he ate it so fast. 

Jodi and Jared helped me change my pants, put my shoes and coat on, and get outside.  I gave Jared my phone to call the hospital to tell them that we were on our way (stupid move because he didn’t know what number to call or how to work my phone).  Before leaving the house, one of them gave me a towel to hold and pull on – the distraction and pressure was helpful during contractions.  It was cool and dark outside and it felt good to my body.  I threw a bit of a tantrum about having to get into the car.  Jodi paced up and down the street for several contractions with me.  When I told her I felt like I wanted to push, she put her foot down and told me I had to get into the car.  NOW.  And then she opened the car door and made me get in.  I was so afraid to sit down in the car because I knew having to sit in one place would hurt.  I pushed my feet into the floor, grabbed onto the oh shit handle with one hand, pushed my other hand into the headliner, and closed my eyes.  The ride to the hospital was uneventful.  Jared was still on the phone with the people from the hospital to let them know we were coming.  Contractions were about 2-3 minutes apart and way intense.  It was almost 9 pm. 

We got to the hospital and Jared parked right by the main and emergency entrance.  Jodi parked in the parking ramp. The main entrance was locked.  We walked over to the emergency entrance.  The man working at the security desk started to direct me to the nurses desk for the emergency room.  I told him all I needed was to get to labor and delivery.  Seriously?  It was obvious that I was pregnant and in labor.  I wasn’t there for stitches, for crying out loud!  Then he tried to make me sit in a wheelchair.  Again, seriously?  That was the last place I wanted to be.  I told him I didn’t want his stupid wheelchair; just get me my damn escort to L&D.  Since we seemed that we were going to have to wait a while for the escort, Jodi moved my car from its spot to the parking ramp.  I harassed the security guy a bit more and again asked him where my escort was.  Finally, the guy arrived to escort us and he tried to offer me a wheelchair.  Uh, no thanks, buddy. 

Finally, we made it to L&D (after snapping at the guy again when he said “the wheelchair is up there” when he meant to say “elevator”).  Jared took care of telling the folks at the nurse’s station who I was as I paced and hummed my way around the hallway.  It only took one or two contractions before they ushered us into a room.

The details around this time are really fuzzy.  I know I went into the bathroom to labor on the toilet again and I know they made me lay down on the hospital bed; I just don’t remember in what order this happened.  Somehow I ended up in a hospital gown.  By this point I had to hum, have my eyes closed, and have a towel to twist, pull, and hold over my eyes.  Jared or Jodi found a cool washcloth to wipe my face with. 

The nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitor, contraction tracker, and blood pressure cuff.  PURE TORTURE!!!  The last place I wanted to be was lying in bed!  By this point, I still didn’t know what I was dilated to.  The nurse had said something about checking me but hadn’t yet and it was pissing me off that I hadn’t been checked.  Contractions were too intense and painful for me to stay in one place; I kept having the desire to push and just wanted it to be over.  A woman came in and introduced herself as Heather.  She was a midwife student and was working with John.  I asked her if she was the one who was going to tell me if I could push yet or not.  She said sure and checked me.  I heard her say, “6 centimeters, 90% effaced, and a big, bulgy bag”.  I was so disappointed that I was “only” 6 centimeters.  I though for sure I was almost there!  Jodi said making it past the 4 centimeter hump was the hardest and I had already done a lot of the work.  Someone from admissions came in and I had to answer a bunch of questions.  Most of the time I just whispered the answer; sometimes I held up a finger, gave a thumbs up, or let Jared answer for me. 

When I was in the bathroom, Jared sat with me and I told him that the contractions hurt so badly and that I wasn’t sure if I could handle the pain.  Heather was in the bathroom doorway at the time and I told her I didn’t remember it being as painful when I had Anika.  Heather said that when things move so fast, the pain is more intense.  I told Jared that I didn’t know if I could do it without drugs this time.  He told me that it was okay if I wanted an epidural but I knew I would be disappointed if I got one and would be embarrassed if I got one considering that I had done it without before.  That’s when Heather suggested that I get in the tub.  (I think maybe I hid in the bathroom when we first arrived, had to go on the monitor for a while, went back to the bathroom, and then had to go back to the bed for the admissions bullshit.  I remember hearing the tub filling up while I answered questions.)  All the while, Jared and Jodi were offering wonderful compliments of how I was doing and reminding me that that contraction was over and I’d never have to experience that one again.  “Words of Affirmation” is one of my love languages and hearing that I was doing a good job kept me going.

Finally the tub was filled and ready for me to get in.  I didn’t have much luck in the tub when I was in labor with Anika and didn’t really have very high expectations that the tub would be helpful this time.  I took off my robe and climbed into the tub.  I’d had the presence of mind to braid my hair before we left the house so my hair was out of the way and would stay relatively dry.  The tub was deep and came up to my bust.  I decided that I didn’t want to wear my bra because I didn’t want it to get wet.  Heather helped me pull it off over my head.  She took a towel, got it wet, and covered my torso with it.  Then someone put a cold, ice-filled towel on my chest to help keep me cool because sometimes I asked why the hell it was so damn hot in there. 

After I got settled into the tub, I was finally able to relax.  In between contractions, I was actually able to rest instead of fight the pain.  The water took the pain between the contractions away.  It was as heavenly as things can be when one is in labor.  There was a bar mounted on the wall that was in the perfect location for me to hold onto.  I held onto that with one hand, the side of the tub with the other, and pushed my feet into the end of the tub during contractions.  The water even made the contractions less intense.  After each contraction, a straw appeared between my lips to take a sip of water.  Jodi said it was especially important to drink water when in the tub because you can get dehydrated easily in the water.  Makes a lot of sense – I sure peed a lot in the tub!  I waxed poetic about the tub and the water between contractions.  It was a nice tub – deep with a reclined back so that I could relax and be almost completely submerged.  I stated so many times how I wouldn’t be able to do it without being in the water.

I think people came and went from the bathroom as I labored in the tub.  The lights were off, both in the bathroom and in the other room.  Sometimes both Jared and Jodi were there.  Sometimes it was just one of them.  But never was it just me.  They were an amazing support team for me; anything I needed or wanted was there before I even knew I wanted or needed it.

Some contractions were long.  Some were shorter.  Some were milder than others.  Some were so intense that my body shook uncontrollably when it was over.  Some had a huge peak of intensity.  Others had a longer plateau of intensity.  Some didn’t seem to end but just lessened a bit before starting and peaking again.  I dealt with them all the same: mooing and humming.  I knew that low sounds would be more effective than high pitched sounds and it worked last time.  Heather poked her head in at one point and commented on the “beautiful” sounds I was making.  From a birthing standpoint, they were beautiful; they were the sounds I had to make to allow my body to work in its inherent way.  I even did the “horse lips”.  Jodi did them with me so I wouldn’t feel silly.  I think I even laughed a little bit – which, as sphincter law goes, is quite helpful.  Truthfully, if I had thought it would be helpful, I would have played the Star Spangled Banner on the harmonica.

During one contraction, I felt the gush of my water breaking.  After the contraction was over, I told Jared and Jodi that my water had broken.  Jodi flipped on the light quickly to make sure that the fluid was clear.  It was.  Heather came in to check as well and also checked my cervix.  I was dilated to 8 centimeters.  I asked how long I had been in the tub.  (Trying to keep a grasp on time while in labor is near impossible.  Minutes feel like hours at times and other times they feel like seconds.)  I had been in the tub for 25 minutes.  I was super pumped that I had gone 2 centimeters in such a short amount of time.  I told Heather that I still wanted to push and she told me I could do little grunty pushes.  Only a woman who has labored can understand how to do that.  I didn’t need to do them with every contraction, though.  Jodi was super encouraging and coaching me through them by telling me how each one was helping rock my baby down.  Each contraction helped move her down a little more and helped open me up a little more.  After knowing how close I was to full dilation, I had more energy knowing that the end was near. 

All of a sudden, things changed.  I no longed wanted to push, I HAD to push.  The sound I made was completely different than the sounds I had been making before.  It was recognized by everyone, especially John.  The lights in the bathroom were flipped on.  John came in and said, “Get her out of the tub.  NOW.”  Half a dozen hands hauled me out of the tub.  Someone wrapped me in a huge towel and I was ushered out of the bathroom.  John said, “Come on, Jana, it’s time to have your baby.”

They left it up to me to decide what position I wanted to be in to push.  I was heading over to the bed when another contraction hit and I leaned over the bed to push.  I pushed for a few contractions while standing and squatting.  I’ve got to hand it to John and Heather because I’m sure it wasn’t the most comfortable position for them to be in.  John was holding the fetal monitor to my belly and was curled into a very awkward looking position and Heather had to play Twister to get into a position to check what station the baby was at.  I remember looking down at one point and seeing that there was a Chux pad on the floor between my legs.  There were small spatters of blood on it – it took me by surprise.  I can actually still see it in my mind’s eye. 

My legs were tired and shaky so they suggested I get on the bed to push.  I climbed up on the bed and lay on my side as someone suggested.  Jodi said, “This is the position Myla was delivered in!”  Jared was at my head, Jodi was at my side holding my right leg, John was at the foot of the bed pushing my left foot and leg up, and Heather was at the foot of the bed waiting to catch the baby.  (Jodi told me later that the nurse was at the computer, charting everything.  We wondered if she would have been more hands on if I didn’t have a doula or if she would have still been at the computer.)  Each contraction presented several times to push and each push got her closer.  I heard Jodi ask Jared if he wanted to switch spots and heard him decline.  The pushing stage was once again an out of body experience for me.  In between each contraction, I went further and further into myself.  I felt the burning of her crowning.  They told me it would only take a few more pushes and it would be over and she would be here.  Instead of rushing her out, I let her head stretch my tissues.  It burned and stung but I needed the rest.  Heather was helping stretch my perineum.  I whispered to myself over and over, “I can do it.  I can do it.”  Heather must have turned the baby’s head; John asked her, “Are you sure you want to turn her head that way?”  It worked.  With the next push, her head was delivered and the rest of her slid out.  After ten minutes of pushing, my baby was there.

It was 10:46 on Saturday, November 5, 2011 when Bethany Paige was delivered.  She was placed on my belly and chest and I loved her immediately.  I then turned to Jared and said, “Thank God, I don’t ever have to do this again!”  They clamped the cord and Jared cut it.  I could feel the pulling of the cord internally – I had a short umbilical cord again so it was a relief to have the pressure released.  (Jodi said the cord was wrapped around Bethany’s feet when she came out.  Better than being wrapped around her neck like it was with Anika.)  A few minutes later, I pushed the placenta out and it felt so, so good to have everything out of my belly.  I had only one first degree tear that Heather stitched up.  They had to clean a bit of meconium off of me because Bethany pooped right after she was delivered.  Bethany was cleaned up and came back to snuggle with Mommy.  She wasn’t interested in nursing right away; she just wanted to check me out.  She was awake and alert for about 45 minutes.  I was blown away by how she looked exactly like Anika did when she was born.  How is it that I gave birth to the same baby twice?!  Man, I love these girls.