Skipping rocks at Mills River
On July 4, 2003, I embarked on one of the greatest adventures of my life. Nine months prior, Joe and I were thrilled to find out we were going to be parents. We were amazed that God was blessing and entrusting us with this precious life He had made. I took two pregnancy tests that day, taking the second to confirm to first's results. I was working for a medical lab at the time, so just to make sure I was really pregnant, a co-worker and I snuck off to the break room where she drew my blood, ran the tube upstairs and awaited results that eventually confirmed elevated hCG levels. I know, I was a little overboard. Christmas was around the corner, so we waited until then to tell our family. They shared in our joy. I was only "sick" for a few weeks. I experienced nausea and some fatigue. The smell of coffee and peanut butter (two of my loves) were revolting to me. I loved being pregnant! I enjoyed watching my body change and seeing my belly grow. Experiencing this only once, God has been so kind to allow me to remember the details of my pregnancy. I continued to work and took a 30 min walk daily during my lunch break in the hills of Calabasas, CA. Joe an I wanted to know the sex of this baby. We would be surprised and thankful either way. At 20 weeks pregnant and on my birthday, we found out we were having a boy! We celebrated by eating barbecue (pulled pork, that is). Fast forward to mid-June my mom came out to help me. I had just quit work with 5 weeks(at least that is what I thought) to prep for baby. Joe was headed on a trip. It was great to spend time with her. Some sweet sisters at church threw me a shower, and I was so thankful my mom was there to celebrate her first grandchild. We went shopping, ate yummy food, explored local gardens, etc. Then it hit me. I got really tired and dizzy. I even threw up; the first and only time during pregnancy.
On a Sunday morning after going to the bathroom, I concluded it best to call my doctor. After exchanging some details, he suggested I head to the hospital to get checked out. I was a little over 36weeks. Long story short, I was leaking fluid. The nurse staff was trying to determine if my water broke. Positive result. Negative result. Positive. Negative. This went on for about 3hrs. During all this I THOUGHT it best to call Joe (who was out of town and returning that night) and inform him of the day's happenings. This was the age in which we had only one cell phone, which I was using. So the only contact number I had was the church in NC which he had taken a group from CA to serve at for a week. Tracking with me? A lady answered to inform me that Joe and the team had left for the airport already. Now, let's stop here. Remember playing telephone as a kid? You whisper a message into someone's ear who whispers the message to another and so on and so on? What I should have said to this lady was, "Ok, thank you. I am glad he is on his way." But what I did say was, "Ok, thank you. I am glad he is on his way. I came to the hospital to get checked out. I'm alright. Not in labor. Just wanted him to know the details, but I'll tell him when he gets home." Now can anyone guess the message that Joe ended with? "Get home! Your wife is in labor!" I would like to take this opportunity to tell all husbands to please leave a direct contact number that you can be reached at while on travel. Especially when your wife is pregnant. I was eventually released and told to see my doctor the next day. What happened after that on Joe's end is another story by itself, but it involves changing flights, being let off the plane first, being cheered by fellow passengers, and confusion at the airport not knowing who was going to pick him up. He got home at 11pm and to his surprise sees me there and said "What are you doing here?" Another note to husbands. Please don't say this to your wife at that moment when she has spent the whole day concerned that you think she is in labor. The next day the doctor confirmed that little Joe would probably come before his due date on July 25th. Maybe a week, maybe two he said. My mom was scheduled to fly out that afternoon, but after some convincing she decide to extend her stay until that Friday. She spent the rest of the week serving me by painting my toenails, washing clothes, stocking our fridge. She was a true help. Then Thursday night rolled around and we decided to go out and hit the town on her last night with us in CA. We headed to 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica and strolled up and down until we finally settled to dine at an Italian place none us could pronounce. Joe and I split a meal that had the portion of a 2 year old's appetite, but it was delicious. We laughed that the bread sticks were actual sticks. Next we hit Westwood for some coffee and cookies from Diddy Riese, our favorite place for dessert! We ran into some guy wearing an NC State shirt and felt compelled to speak to him. I am sure he thought we were looney. Joe, my mom, and I headed back to our cozy apartment in North Hollywood giving thanks for a wonderful evening together. The next morning, Joe left early to go for a surf in Malibu. My mom was getting things ready for her return to NC. Her flight wasn't until 9pm that night. While Joe was out surfing I began to have contractions. These were my first. I had not experienced any braxton hicks, so this was a new pregnancy feeling. Joe wasn't gone long. He said when he was out in the water he had a nagging feeling that he was parked illegally. So he got out to move the car but instead packed his things and headed on home. Praise the Lord! Upon his return, we determined that heading to the hospital was a must since I was contracting every 2-3 minutes for a good 60 seconds. Let me pause here to say that I was 37 weeks that day, no bags were packed, and no car seat installed. On top of that my mom was trying to shower and do some laundry. Joe was helping our landlord change a light bulb. I am doubled over trying to ease the intensity of contractions. We finally get our act together and by 11:30am head to the hospital with my mom in the back seat. Joe is trying to drive and recall breathing techniques. My mom is laughing at him, and I am moaning in the front seat. By the time I am given a room and "checked" it is 1pm and I am 4cm. We then realize that we are having an Independence baby! Labor progressed pretty fast. At 4:20pm, the nurse asked me to push. After two, she said, "Stop. The doctor is not here yet." Where was he? At a picnic! Hey, it was July 4th let him have some fun. Dr. gets there and suits up. He tells me to push. It only took two more. Our baby boy enter the world at 4:57pm July 4, 2003 at 7lbs. 12 oz. 20.5 inches. It was a sweet moment to see and hold this precious boy that we had prayed for and longed to meet. What a treat to have my mom witness his birth. We had not planned for her to be there or for us to go and have on baby that day. But God had planned it all for us. I recently told this story to little Joe leaving out names and dates until the very end. He was surprised to find out he was the baby!
*If you have been reading our post for awhile, you notice the name Joe used. My husband insists that he is just an average guy, thus the code name.
