I know I shouldn’t laugh but sometimes I just can’t help it

Our house is in disarray right now as we figure out how to add another person to our house; many of the items from mine and Jim’s bedroom are in the dining room or family room, and there’s a rug for baby boy’s room that is laying in the floor between the family room and dining room.

This afternoon, Molly came running at me full-speed from the family room and tripped over the rug. It never even registered on her radar. She hit the ground so hard and I fully expected a bloody nose or mouth when she looked up. I immediately bent down to scoop her up and held her for a minute, then we sank to the floor and as I held her hair back to look at her face, I asked, “What did you hit?”

Wailing, Molly said, “The floor!”

I tried to hold back the laughter as she continued to cry, but I was relieved she hadn’t broken or bloodied anything {this time} and I realized the ridiculousness of my literal question. So instead, I rephrased and asked, “What hurts?”

She held out her hands. I kissed them both, gave her another hug and finished getting her dinner together.

 

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Three years ago…

My due date with Molly had arrived.

But she had not.
I went to my 40 week appointment and was devastated when the doctors told me there was little progress (between 1 and 2 cm!) and that they’d let me go 10-12 days before an induction. While I didn’t want to go 10-12 more days, I didn’t want to be induced more. I cried, called my mom and my sister, and we did what any normal woman would do – we went shopping! Jim and I walked miles and miles that week, ate lots of Dairy Queen and watched more movies than I probably ever have in my entire life. {I’m pretty sure I told you guys this story already, but I enjoy retelling it. Obviously.}

I had four more doctor appointments before they finally said I had to have this baby and scheduled me for an induction. I needed to choose between August 6 or 7; my favorite doctor was on-call August 6, so I chose that day. It was so weird to know that the next day I was going to wake up, take a shower, and waltz into the hospital to have my baby. The last six weeks of my pregnancy, I was anticipating a dramatic water breaking event, or intense contractions stopping me in my tracks.

There was a dramatic water breaking event – just with something that resembled a knitting needle. And there were intense contractions and lots of vomiting that I endured for 8 hours before asking for an epidural that didn’t really relieve the pain. I don’t even know what words to use to describe that day, as we waited for the labor to progress. It was scary and calm and funny and sweet all at the same time.

Hours and hours later, we sent Jim to get something to eat. I was stalled at nine cm and remained there for three hours. The nurse kept checking the contractions and Molly’s heart rate {they had turned down the heart rate monitor at this point}; Dr. B came in while Jim was gone and hesitated, seeing that Jim wasn’t there. He said he was just checking in, which was weird, because they don’t do that. When Jim came back, the nurse and Dr. B came back in right away and told us I needed to have a c-section.

I wanted to brush my teeth, which I remember being a funny request. It feels like it was only minutes before I was wheeled to the operating room. I remember Dr. B making a joke about watching “Grey’s Anatomy” and being prepared for the surgery. It was almost time for him to go home, and I had a new nurse at this point. I threw up while strapped to the operating table, which is kind of hard to do, by the way. I remember so much about the surgery and recovery afterwards; it felt like forever before I could actually *hold* Molly and I know it was forever before I could sit up on my own!

Jim was so excited to introduce Molly to our parents and Beverly, all of whom had waited ALL day for Molly’s arrival.

While Molly’s birth story is not exactly what I had planned, she was perfect and healthy and lovely and I know in the end it doesn’t matter how she arrived in this world. It’s so crazy to think that it’s been almost three years since she was born.

And obviously it’s true that moms DO “forget” the pain of childbirth; I mean, I’m getting ready to do it again, right?

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Say What?

A few of my favorite Molly-isms as of late…

She calls the grill a ‘girl.’ Makes me laugh every time. Jim bought a new grill recently, and Molly was so excited when the men delivered the “new girl!”

She was literally standing on the front porch yelling, “It’s Daddy’s new girl! Yay! A new girl!” The poor delivery guys could not keep a straight face.

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Another mix-up is that she says  “snore” when she means “sore.”As in, my knee is “snore.”

When I say, “Oh, your knee is sore…I’m so sorry.”

She’ll say, “Yeah, it’s snore.”

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My current favorite is “I can’t know,” when she means “I don’t know.”

As in, “Molly, where are your shoes?”

“I can’t know.”

Or, “What day of the week is it?”

“Mom, I can’t know this.”

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