I Remember... | The arrival of Charlotte Rose

I've apparently been working this for a year. I had nearly forgotten that I was writing it when I opened up one of my not-so-frequently used journals to find two sheets of paper stuck in the back cover. I thought it would be a good time to pull it out, tell the rest of the story, and polish it up, it being her birthday and all. I've hinted before that there was another half to tell of Charlotte's birth (read part one and see pictures here). So, here it is, and kudos to you if you read the whole thing.

July 29th, 2012

"Family meeting in the living room," Dad said. It was a warm summer day. I'd just got back from helping at VBS. We all sat down. I was keeping my hands busy with something. "Your mother is pregnant," were the exact words. Addy turned green. She was actually speechless. I smiled and said, "well thanks for finally telling us". "You knew?!" "Well, yeah, kinda." Because I'd suspected this for awhile. (No coffee, extra vitamins, doctors appointments where we say at grandma's.) She was seven weeks along then. I was fifteen. Addy was twelve. We were all beyond estatic. I was trying to wrap my head around the idea of having another little sibling after all these years. Eventually came the time when we shared the news outside our little circle of four (five). "Is it weird?" some asked me (because, you know, I had just started highschool). "Just don't name it Keith," said others. All were excited.

Flash forward two weeks before mom's due date. 

February 25th, 2013

I Remember...Dad woke us up early-ish Monday morning. Mom had been having what felt like contractions since Sunday night, unknown to Addy and I until then. He said something like "pack your things, just in case. Mom is having contractions and there's a snow storm coming. They may just be braxton-hicks but we want to get her to the doctor just to make sure."

I Remember...packing, picking out clothes I thought would be good ones to fill with the memory of a sibling being born. I stuffed my yellow bag full of journals (more than I really could ever have needed at the moment) and got the camera. You know, just in case. Mom still wasn't due for two more weeks or so. We were just being cautious. The doctor was about 30 to 45 minutes away. It'd be difficult and dangerous, if not impossible to make it there in a Kansas snow storm.

I Remember...being at our grandpa's house when heavy snowflakes started to fall. He'd just made us pizza for lunch when Mom and Dad came in very urgent-like from going to the doctor's, then home to tend to a few things and grab the "hospital bag". "We need to go now. And we mean now." We left our pizza on our plates and grabbed our things. The snow was coming down heavily. Mom and Dad told us what the plan was in the car. The doctor had said that it was possible that the baby could come soon and with the snow storm coming, she wanted us to stay close. We were going to check into a hotel to get as close as we possibly could to the hospital as we could.

I Remember...walking into the little hotel, the really friendly lady at the front desk, I remember standing in the lobby and how the howled against the hollow walls, I remember all of us just not really thinking that "this was it", the hotel room with two queen beds, and I remember the run to Walmart for hot chocolate and UNO cards. And I remember us sitting, eating dinner, mom being completely fine. Well, maybe this isn't going to be it, but we had to be cautious, afterall.

I Remember...that night, the contractions started up again. Mom layed in bed, we rubbed her back when she needed it. Dad timed them. We went to bed. "We'll wake you up if we need to go in," they said. And eventually we fell asleep.

February 26th, 2013

I Remember...around 5am dad woke us up. Mom's contractions were more intense now and close together. I remember Mom being remarkably cheery and calm. "Was this how a woman in labor acted?" I thought. We were going to go to the doctor's office. First we had to get everything packed up. I remember riding the stuffy brown-carpeted elevator down to the first floor. I remember my bag of journals seemed a lot heavier. And I remember thinking, "I didn't think it'd be like this."

I Remember...rushing out of the elevator, glancing over the people in the lobby. Most were elderly men. Those who weren't watching the news were watching us. I wondered if they knew what was happening. I quickly picked up a blueberry muffin and milk carton. We all hopped in the van. The sky was still dark.

I Remember...the car ride there. The light blue cast onto the mountainous snow by the street lights. I remember thinking that if we had been at home, there would've been no way we could've made it here. I remember that intersection where I thought all this, looking through the van window, back when I still sat on the driver's side and Addy on the passenger's.

I Remember...arriving at the emergency room. They put mom in a wheel chair and it seemed a funny thing, because she looked just like normal and seemed to just fine in between contractions. When in room 400, the medium sized room that seemed squished with all four (five) of us, a nurse came and checked on mom.

I Remember...walking those halls with mom, all of us. We'd stop every so often to rub her back when a contraction would come. Some were worse than others. I remember how we walked those halls like we owned them the next few days. It all seemed surreal.

I Remember...the point when it finally seemed real...when mom's water broke. After walking the halls, we had come back to the room, and just in time, apparently. Addy and I sat in the two chairs, squeezed togther underneath the window. That's when real labor started. Mom was in pain now, and their was no mistake. I sort of wondered if they wanted us to be in here. The pre-decided consensus was that Ad and I would be in the waiting room. Had they maybe forgotten that we had decided that? How fast did these things happen?

I Remember...after awhile Ad got hungry. We slipped out of the room. I bought a king-sized candy bar (which we split) and a bag of chex mix from the vending machine. I remember the blue leathery seats in the waiting room. I remember meeting the doctor in the hallway on the way back to the room. Ad and I opened the door. The room was bathed in blue paper. "Don't touch anything blue, it's sterile," one of the nurses told us. We tried to fit in a corner, then decided that it was possibly impossible because it seemed everything was blue. So we went to the waiting room.

I Remember...being back and forth between the waiting room and the delivery room a couple times. I remember calling grandparents and their dropping everything, coming immediately. I remember talking to the lady in the waiting room, there was no way she couldn't have been in our conversation, really. Ad and I were so excited. We talked openly. I remember jumping everytime a lullaby was played over the speaker.

I Remember...Dad coming around the corner and telling us that everything was set. We could come and talk to mom for a bit. We fed her ice on a spoon and told her "I love you" many times. We did have to leave evenetually.

I Remember...skipping exuberantly down the hallway with Addy. And I remember seeing a lady, a grandma of one of the babies born recently, there seemed to be complications. She was looking through the nursery window. I remember hushing Addy, but when the lady saw me doing so, she said, "no, you do that! You just do that!". So we skipped some more and at the end of the hallway we met family coming off the elevator.

I Remember...sitting in the waiting room on the fourth floor, watching and waiting for Dad to turn the corner and walk down that hallway. Grandparents and family were there, waiting too. Then finally, Dad was there. Addy and I shot up from the couch. He took us into the room first, into room 400. 

I Remember...seeing mom sitting there, holding the baby all wrapped up in a blanket in her arms. "It's a girl," she said. "What is her name --" Addy asked. "This is Charlotte," Mom said. 

I Remember...this was when we first met little Charlotte.

the first time I held her

...

Today she's one. It's a funny how time flies. It truly has this last year. She's the cutest. Baby roo, I do love you. Happy birthday.

xoxoxo