January 27th.

 I headed off to my doctors appointment. I was a week and half away from my due date, feeling pretty large, out of breath, just generally very pregnant. After checking to see my progress, the doctor (almost too casually) explained that it was probably safest for me to be induced on the following Monday or Tuesday . I sat there in my paper gown staring at him blankly as he described his schedule to me, asking what day I would like to be induced, as if it were just another appointment for me to schedule in. This would be the biggest appointment of my life.

After discussing the induction process, and deciding on a day, I got in my car and cried. I had always pictured going into labor naturally ( really -  I had pictured something dramatic, like my water breaking in the middle of the grocery store or a movie theater.. ), but I wasn't crying because of needing to be induced, I was crying because I was straight up scared shitless.

I made my way to the hospital for my scheduled non-stress test, called my husband (crying), and called my mom (again, crying). There's something about being forced into doing something when you are SO not ready that is extra difficult and terrifying. Looking back now, I'm not sure if I was more scared of the actual pains of labor, or meeting the baby that had been vacationing in my belly for the past 9 months.

At 2:30pm I arrived home, my husband and I ate some lunch and I continually reminded myself that I had a handful of days to prepare for the induction date. To prepare for meeting her, the one we'd been waiting for.. I could do this, right?

and then my water broke..

I yelled to my husband.. "Umm.. frank? I think my water just broke.."


Basically chaos ensued shortly after this little announcement.. And for the record, I was as cool as a cucumber (surprisingly) as my husband called his family, and ran around like a chicken with his head cut off. After reaching the hospital for the second time that day, we were admitted, mild contractions began, then the real frigging contractions (UGH am I right?!),  and that wonderful, magical thing called the Epidural was administered (because- I ain't no hero, you guys). The joke was on me because the epidural slowed down my labor and had worn off by the time it was really needed, but boy did I enjoy every minute of it. ANYWAY, By 10am it was finally ready to push, and sparing you the gory details (if I haven't already grossed you out), at 11:11am on January 28th, 2015, a screaming, blue eyed, 6lb baby girl was laid on my chest.. and all was right in the world.


 

 

 

Dear Arlo,

So there you have it, kid. Your birth story. Someday I'll read you this story, and tell you all the funny details .. like how your dad got food poisoning from the Dunkin' Donuts sandwich he ate while I was in labor. It's hard to believe it's been a year since you made your entrance into this world and it's even harder to believe how much you have changed our lives. You have filled spaces in our hearts that we didn't know ached for you all along.

You are silly, dramatic, stubborn, an entertainer, a wild child. You look like your dad and sometimes act like your momma. You love to give kisses to your dogs and stuffed animals, but rarely give them to anyone else. Your face lights up whenever daddy comes home from work and you only say 'mama' when you're crying.. everything else is "DADADADADA". You sometimes pull your own hair (which freaks everyone out), have no interest in walking yet, and to mommy and daddy's dismay, you have yet to sleep through the night. You love bath time and nothing will stand between you and a piece of cheese (I'm with you there, girl!).

   In a lot of ways, the day you were born was the day I was born. Someday, you'll read this and be all  like "Really, Mom? What does that even mean? You are so weird." and I will tell you that I didn't even exist before you were here. You are that significant, that life changing, that special.

 

Happy Birthday, my sweet sweet Arlo Eloise. You are so loved.
Mom

 

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