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After a somewhat long, but uneventful labor, our 8 pound, 15 ounce Amelia Marie Rowley was born.
Despite the obvious difficulties of delivering a large baby, Lonica and Amelia are doing great.
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She has long brown hair like her mom…
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… and loves to cuddle with her dad.Â
The birth was amazing, everyone in the room gasped at her size when fully delivered.
Thanks everyone for your thoughts and calls, stay tuned for more updates…
Water broke, we’re at the hospital, updates will be coming soon…
Step 1: Go on a 2.5 mile hike through Highbanks Metro Park; get stopped by a volunteer ranger who makes sure you have the real ranger’s number in case something should happen.
Step 2: Watch “Casino Royale” and relax with husband.
Step 3: Go to the gym, 15 minutes on the elliptical, 5 minutes on the treadmill, 20 minutes swimming laps in the pool.
Step 4: Come home, clean up, and apply smoky eyes so I attempt to look like “Vesper”.
Step 5: Go to Olive Garden and eat a lot of yummy food so I’m not hungry.
Step 6: Mention “mysterious leaking” to Scott.
Step 7: Scott conducts research and experimentation to confirm hypothesis.
Step 8: Go to hospital with a sense of déjà vu, all the while swearing my water couldn’t have broken.
Step 9: Arrive at hospital, be subjected to more tests and experimentation, apparently Scott knows when the baby is coming better than I do.
–that’s nerd with a capital ‘N’
Today I took myself and my large belly (which doesn’t seem to be disappearing anytime soon) across the street to Staples.
I was on a quest for sheet protectors and a new calendar—exciting I know.
As I walked through the doors it became painfully obvious that school is about to start. Everywhere I looked shelves were filled with school pencils, locker mirrors, and reams of lined 3-ring binder paper.
I realized, with something of a start, that I will not be returning to the classroom this fall for the first time in literally 20 years. That’s quite significant, considering I’m only nearly 26.
Throughout those years I have returned to school in a number of different capacities and with a number of different attitudes.
There were the elementary years in which I excitedly sharpened my pencils and laid out my “First Day of School Outfit.”
There were the teenage years in which I anxiously began five different schools over the course of five straight years.
There was the year I began my second consecutive year of high school as low-man-on-the-totem-pole, by spilling red pizza sauce on my white shirt.
There was the year I was finally old enough to proudly drive myself to campus.
There was the first year of college, in which I erroneously believed continuing a 7:30 am start time would be a good idea.
Then there was the year in which I excitedly spent hours preparing my own classroom for the arrival of students who could probably care less.
Then there was the year I was grateful (after a stressful job hunt) to be starting work at any school.
Then there was last year, when I returned to school both as a master’s student and substitute.
Throughout all those years, I’ve always had one particular—and awfully nerdy—fondness. I anxiously awaited my school teacher’s supply lists in the mail. I felt little shame in sneaking wanted “school” supplies into the shopping cart on our annual back-to-school trips. To my mother’s annoyance, I could debate the necessity of new binders until I was blue in the face. Nothing pleased me quite so well as rearranging and organizing my newly purchased pencil box supplies. I loved labeling my folders and covering my textbooks. I took great pride in a matching collection of pens and pencils. In short, I love school and office supplies.
This year, I have no excuse for purchasing any new supplies—other than my new calendar, as the one I currently own is an academic calendar and ends this month, ironically enough. In fact, I even talked myself out of the sheet protectors when I saw the price sticker and considered my empty wallet. As I passed the book covers and trendy notebooks I realized they had no purpose in my life at this point. It was something of a sad and unusual thought.
I wonder what life will be like without school. I wonder how long it will be before I no longer consider what homework I need to complete before I can go socialize. I wonder what it will be like to no longer need a backpack to haul books around in. I wonder what it will be like to someday send my own children off to school with their new supplies.
After making my small purchase, I stepped out of the store to watch a school bus filled with students pass by. Somehow it felt like my past was also passing by.
I woke Friday morning with something of a painful start. My tummy contracted and felt rather uncomfortable, but recalling my instructor’s advice, I groggily went back to sleep. This happened a few more times until I realized that continuing to feel contractions during the night is not right.
My mind immediately sprung into action. All I could do was consider the imminent arrival of my soon-to-be-born baby and the lengthy list of things I still had to accomplish before she left my womb. Items like: wash the floors, clean the bathrooms, complete the ironing, call the pediatrician, call the Insurance company, organize the baby’s room, install the car seat, pack a hospital bag, paint the changing table baskets, and complete the grocery shopping all ran through my head for a good, solid hour.
At a reasonable decent hour, I jumped out of bed and wrote everything down. With contractions continuing to come throughout the morning, Scott and I rushed to cross off as many things as possible on my list—for I was convinced that this baby was arriving.
We finished the grocery shopping by 5:30 as contractions continued to intensify.
Now, let’s back up. Running around like a crazy person was not on my game plan for the day. My graduation commencement was scheduled for Saturday morning and I was hoping to enjoy a relaxing weekend with Scott and we traveled to (Kent is 2 ½ hours away) and attended the ceremony. However, with my impending delivery, this plan was tabled in favor of enjoying a fancy dinner together here in Columbus. This baby may have side-railed my plans to walk across the stage and graciously accept my diploma in a figure-flattering gown and cap, but I was bound and determined to enjoy my fancy dinner.
So, as the contractions seemed to intensify, I paid them little attention. I wasn’t going to show up at the hospital hungry and devoid of my dinner.
Thus, we headed out to the Columbus Fish Market. We sat down and started timing my contractions. At this point, we realized they were methodically arriving every four to five minutes and lasting at least a minute. If there was one thing we learned from the class, it was to remember 5-1-1 (contractions five minutes apart, lasting a minute or longer, for a solid hour). I became a bit nervous at this point. In fact, I might have asked our waitress to bring our food as quickly as possible. She was a bit surprised to find that I was possibly in labor and I have to say, I’ve never had service quite so fast. That didn’t stop me from ordering desert though—I figured I needed to indulge before laboring through the night.
We returned home to grab our newly-packed hospital bags, call the doctor, and head to the hospital. After receiving the green light from the doctor, we headed out the door. At which point, my contractions fizzled out. I went from having them consistently every four minutes to about one every ten or fifteen minutes.
We were already committed though and more than anything I was curious. We arrived at the hospital and the nurse strapped some monitors around my belly, checked my insides, and instructed me to drink the world’s largest glass of ice water.
Scott and I then spent the next hour wandering around the hospital, trying to bring the contractions back on. I have to say, walking around in a hospital gown wasn’t quite the apparel I had in mind for the weekend—although it is about as flattering as a graduation gown.
We returned to the nurse only to find that I wasn’t really in labor and we could return home and go to bed.
It was something of a letdown. I’ve now completed my list of mandatory pre-baby’s arrival activities and don’t have a whole lot left to do but wait for my cervix to bloom like a tulip. All I can say is that this baby better be enjoying her life inside, because I’m ready for her to enter the real world.