We've been planning on the arrival of Baby G now for many-a-moon, and seeing how she has missed her own due date, I have been of the opinion that I should take over as her scheduler. Yes, I realize that God is really her scheduler, but well...let's face it - I have control issues. I mentioned this to my doctor at my first "you're overdue" appointment and she laughed at first. Then we realized there were a few developments that might warrant us trying to convince Li'l Baby G to move on out of her internal home and into the world at large. This was Monday. Not wanting to be too terribly pushy, I opted not to rush into an inducement on Wednesday - besides, my doctor was so sure she'd get herself out of there before then anyway. Just in case, we scheduled another appointment for Thursday, and if I'd been firing on all guns, I'd have seen if the doc was a betting woman, because I was betting I'd see her then - she was far more skeptical. If only I was a betting woman, maybe Baby G would have had her college fund on that bet.
As of Thursday, she still hadn't made her way here, so it was time for mom to nudge her along. As much as I didn't want an inducement, I also didn't want to birth a 20 pound baby (and at this point their best guess was that she was between 8 and 8.5 lbs). So, we made a plan [enter voice of God laughing]. I'd go into the hospital Thursday night, get prepared for inducement on Friday morning, and have Baby G come meet the world shortly thereafter. Simple enough...if only.
Yes, I had already heard all the stories of people having to be induced numerous times, births taking days, but in all fairness, I had made some progress on my own, so I was willing to put on my rose colored glasses. (Those need to be crushed...demolished...taken to the dump!) Long story short, our plan A, turned into plan B and C very quickly, and eventually called for a Plan D (which quite honestly was my plan A for a couple weeks, if only anyone had agreed to it!). After 10 hours of "active" labor, 9 of them sans drugs and 3 of those post-water break, the doctor read our minds and suggested a C-Section to keep baby unstressed and entering the world happily. No lie - the Hubbers and I had just been talking about asking her when we'd be ready to make that decision. So...sometimes God's sense of humor and timing align with our own eventually (yeah yeah, I know it's the other way around!).
Seventeen and a half hours after arriving at the hospital, our Li'l Baby G made her debut in the labor & delivery operating room at 9 pounds 6 ounces, and absolutely beautiful even in her uncleaned glory! Oh, this mom wanted to hold her little munchkin so badly, but just a little cheek snuggling would have to do since I still had the shakes. Hubbers and I both had the same thought - I'd birthed a beast, a beautiful one of course, and that we could never tell her our first words were "she's a beast!" And from that moment on, our hearts were hers.
Since I was in recovery from surgery, Hubbers got to feed her her first meal (of course the beast came out hungry!), and I have never been more in love. In my own inability to move or take care of my little girl, I watched my husband in less than an instant turn into the most loving and caring father, completely hers and completely mine all at once. First bottle, first diaper, first burp and spit up...all his, and I thought I would be jealous. In reality, my heart was more full watching them bond than if I had stepped in and done it myself, as the control freak in me would like to.
God's laughter can lead to some brilliantly providential moments... And in truth, as much as we will be telling the tale of the plan that never was (Hubbers elaborates based on some of his own semi-traumatic experiences along the way, but I'll let those be his stories), I am so very thankful for the blessing of the plan that unfolded in His time and by His will...all for His glory. The not-so-pleasant memories will fade leaving only the joy we all felt upon sight of our new baby girl.