FELICITY JANE, Part Three

I had the coolest due-date ever! December 12th, 2012. How sweet to be able to write that down as your date of birth? "Yeah, I was born on 12-12-12. Be jealous."
*sigh
Never mind that my due date came and went.

On Thursday the 13th, the day after my official due date, I did make the trip down to 'Cuse for a quick ultrasound and chat with the docs. The way Dr. Silverman put it, "As long as you can show me that your baby isn't 10 1/2 pounds or more, and that you still have an adequate amount of fluid in there, we'll just hang out and wait." Music to my ears! I'm all about hanging out and waiting.

There is a really big push (no pun intended) these days to induce labor when you are postdates. Not quite sure I'll ever understand that one, yet it's the norm. My midwife and I were both convinced that Syracuse would want to do something when I hit the "one week overdue" mark. They offered to set up an appointment to "discuss options" but I kindly refused. Driving down at that point just for an appointment seemed a bit pointless.


One of the kids suggested we have a "Kiss Your Due Date Goodbye" Party. When I asked what we should do at the party, they suggested eating snacks and picking a name. Sounded fun to me! I threw some Buffalo Wing Dip in the oven and cut up some celery sticks. While the dip was baking, I scribbled down a list of names I had heard thrown out there over the previous months. As I scribbled, it was all I could do to fight off a decent-sized pity party. I loved the name Paisley and I was alone. Not one other family member could even stand the name. We eventually gathered in the living room and talked about the name. Kids were whining and complaining. Eric was on the computer, caring less. More kids were arguing over who came up with what name and how so-and-so was named and blah blah blah. Finally, after mounting frustration, I yelled. "OK! Here we go! I'm READING the list. Here's the list. I'm READING IT ALOUD! If you HATE the name and can't live with a daughter or sibling WITH THIS NAME, RAISE your hand."

Me: "Daisy"

hands.

Me: "Sydney"

hands.

Me: "Penny"

hands.

Me: "Courtney"

hands.

Me: "Whitney"

hands.

Me: "Tory"

hands.

Me: (pause) "Paisley"

LOTS of hands.

Me: "Felicity"

no comments. no arguing. no complaining. no concerns.

and no hands.

And so it was decided.

Our baby girl had a name.

On Thursday, December 20th, as I began to prepare lunch, I noticed that my Braxton Hicks were feeling a bit... well, real-ish. It took me a few solid hard ones to realize that this might be "it". By the seventh or eighth real-ish contraction, I announced to the kids that I need a timer. They all went running for scrap paper and pencils and watches, except Colby who almost tossed his cookies right then and there. The poor kid gets super queasy at even the thought of anything labor or birth.

We were eating a late lunch and I was having them one right after another. They were coming about 3 minutes apart at that point. Avery asked, "Why aren't you texting Dad?" Oh, yeah. I guess that would be a good idea, huh? I texted Eric and suggested, "Wrap up whatever you're doing because I'm going to need a ride to Syracuse in awhile." It was 2pm.

By 3 pm, Eric arrived home and his parents showed up at around the same time. They would be staying here with the kids while we were away to have the Little Miss. For those of you who don't know my in-laws, they are the best people I know. Serving, loving, forgiving, and all around delightful! They prayed for me and they prayed for the baby and they prayed for our trip. We headed out the door at 3:30pm. I was 99.5% sure this was GO time.

What is it about that stupid half of a percent?
A conversation on the road, only 20 minutes from home:
Me: "What if I'm wrong and this isn't it?"
Eric: "We'll turn around and come back home."
Me: "Yeah, but what if I'm WRONG?!"
Eric: (long pause) "Really?"
Me: "I wish I could be 100% sure."
Eric: "Lisa, stop talking."

By the time we hit Watertown, I was saying all the same crazy things that I say when it's the real deal. Things like, "I can't do this" and "Oh, I can't believe what I'm about to have to go through." He smirked. He knew that half of a percent was long gone.

For those of you who know Riley & Avery's birth story, you know that Eric has no problem making good time to Syracuse when his wife is in labor. Understatement!

More apologies for breaking this up, but duty-in-the-form-of-10-kids calls!

To be cont'd.