A new doctor came on duty. I had only met her once before but I liked her immediately. She was honest with me that the night was going to be unpleasant, my platelets were very low and if I wanted an epidural now was the time because there was a chance of bleeding and the chief anesthesiologist would do it before he left. He did, unfortunately it didn't work. It was blatently apparent an hour later when she broke my water at only 1 cm dilated. I was in pain all night long while G-man dozed beside me, he said I kept squeezing his hand and he just assumed I was mildly uncomfortable--yeah, understatement of the century! They had also started magnesium sulfate to make sure I didn't seize--it did however make me flush and feel like hell. First thing next morning, chief comes back, re-does the epidural--bliss. Less than half an hour later third OB comes in to check me and says we'll be having a baby, soon or sooner. He checks me and announces, you need a c-section right NOW, that was at 8AM. I heard them arguing in the hallway a minute later that they didn't have any of my blood type. I was whisked off to the OR, G-man got on his get-up and by 8:17AM Abigail Lynne was born at barely 6 pounds despite my gestational diabetes.
That night is a blur, because of the chance of seizures I had to stay on the mag for 24 hours after delivery. This meant I spent the night, alone in the labor and delivery unit in the basement of the hospital. Well mostly I was alone. They would bring PDQ to me and I'd attempt to nurse. I clearly remember thinking "what the hell are they doing leaving me alone with this baby when I can barely hold my head up! G-man's mother also called me about a thousand times to inquire whether or not we'd be turning up the heat in our house now that we had a baby--I eventually had to tell the nurses NOT to put her through. I couldn't have imagined the ride we were in for!
That first year sleep was a rare commodity for all of us. She was so tiny, down to 5 lb 5 oz at the low point. I struggled to nurse and grudgingly supplemented with formula. I pumped what seemed like all the time. I was desperate trying to figure out what I could do to not go back to work. Looking back I have no doubt that I had post-partum depression. I felt guilty from all of the complications of my pregnancy. I was so upset about having to use formula. My parents came the weekend after you were born for a week and I had worried for months about my mother coming and taking over, I don't know what I would have done without her help. I sobbed for days when she left. This has always been one of my favorite pictures of PDQ and daddy. He was (and usually still is) the calm in the storm.
Time flew,she walked at a little over 9 months old. Trying desperately to keep up with your much older brothers. From the day you were born she was born she was happy to go to anyone. It made it a little easier to go back to work on one hand, on the other it broke my heart to know someone else could make you happy but not nearly as much as thinking of you miserable all day. Today that personality trait outshines all the rest of them. You love people, you are never deterred in meeting new people, you are the proverbial social butterfly.
Terrible twos, yep, that was pretty accurate. But so darned cute that we could tolerate it--G-man likes to say "its a good thing they are so cute or we might kill them." Halfway through the second year we added Boobah to the family and PDQ took it in stride. I love this picture taken the day Boobah was born, PDQ holding her in her lap and giving her the first kiss. It still makes me melt. The other day I can distinctly remember from 2--Boobah and I had settled into the big chair to nurse. PDQ was at the table behind me having dinner. I felt like I had it all together. Things were quiet, too quiet and when I turned around PDQ had dumped her entire glass of milk into her dinner plate and was so proud, yeah, so much for conquering the two kid thing.
Three was hard. On her third birthday we had a visit from the Binky Fairy who came to take away the binky and left behind the princess box. Thankfully just one night of "I wish I was still 2!" before things settled down--a bit. I told my mother that three was harder than two, she poo-pooed it until PDQ went to spend a week with her--the second day she called to tell me I was right! Atttitude and the verbal skills to tell us what she thought! Late in the year came preschool. I was so sure I had my act together when I dropped her off the first day, until the teachers gave us a little baggie with a sweet poem and a tissue. It was all over for me then! At 3 PDQ had her first real, all on her own friend, Hope. They talked about each other all the time and greeted each other with huge hugs. Although they don't see each other as often they still have that same reaction when they are together. Three was also a bit of a stage debut--flower girl at Aunt Jenny's wedding.
PDQ and her peeps at her fourth birthday party. They were cute, they were loud! Definitely a step up from three, helpful, fun to have around. G-man and I constantly amazed at the stuff that she knew and could do. Watching she and her now mobile sister relate.
I don't know if 5 was such a big year because of all that happened or just because its so fresh in my mind. Starting the year off at Disney, with Grandma and Grandpa was certainly the way to start. Add in a new house, new babysitter, and starting Kindergarten and it was a HUGE year. As always PDQ has taken it all in stride--other than the spider obsession that started when we moved to the new house and piled all the other things on top. To this day we are doing spider checks at night. You have grown so much this year, every day it seems that you are closer to growing up, sometimes its hard to remember that you are a little kid and not a teenager.
So, happy birthday to you PDQ. I could not have imagined the what life would bring us in the last six years and I can't imagine life without you my sweet girl, you take my breath away.