She's here!!!! Abigail arrived last night at about 7:20. Ash was able to do a regular delivery, she was a complete hoss and example to all of us prego people through the whole thing, and at the end of it all there was an exhausted but happy mommy, an anxious but smitten daddy, and a smooshed but beautiful little girl.

Pictures will be forthcoming when I am not at work.

Her birth experience taught me several things: first, be very careful about who you call and who is allowed into the room, and stick with your wishes. You would think that simply EXPLAINING this to people would be enough, but sometimes it isn't. Find a tough and reliable person who is willing to be a bouncer when people, as well-intentioned (or just plain selfish) as they may be, try to violate the aforementioned rules set down by the parents. Barring that, sic a labor and delivery nurse on them. They're very protective. Second, as Ash put it "I love the epidural and I love the guy that put it in!" You don't have to go all granola to be a Mom. Heck, I may wind up having to have a c-section, and that won't make me an less of a Mom. I grew the little (?) guy for nine months, it counts. Three, calling people to tell them about a new baby is FUN. Fourth, pregnant people without filters do not make good bouncers. We just get mad. Grrrrrrrrrr.

Picture if you will the scenario: the rooms at Norman are huge. You labor, deliver, and recover all in the same place. There are hardwood floors, a table and chairs, a big entertainment center with a TV and a DVD player, and a hide-a-bed for the daddy. Ash was in there at midnight, getting all ramped up. She had the pitocin. And had the pitocin. And had the pitocin some more. And after about 6 hours, she was at a 2. Then came the epidural and calm. Then, about 5 and a half hours later came Abbey.

She really is adorable. We watched at the nursery window as the nurse got her all cleaned up, did all the annoy-the-baby things that they have to do, and put a little pink bow in her hair. She wasn't happy, but Brad is already learning how to soothe her very effectively.

I wonder if the people in there feel like they're in a zoo. Probably, especially when somone who shall remain nameless thinks it's a good idea to bang on the window and ask the nurse to turn the baby. Or hold up the baby. Or ask for numbers about length and head circumference and the like. I really wanted a sign or something.

So, my sister is a hoss (her post-delivery care took about an hour and a half), my brother-in-law is one very enamored Daddy, and my neice is absolutely precious. And with a set of lungs that lets you know she's a Cahill.

Hooray for babies!

It's a countdown to Abigail week. Babies are like gases- they expand to take up all availible space...in the minds of their parents and grandparents and relatives, and in the house. They have loot. An insane amount, if you consider that what you really need is probably pretty much limited to clothes, diapers, wipes, and something to feed the munchkin with. Although mothers of colicky children would probably add "Something that will get them to sleep" to the list.

Ash is being induced Thursday if she hasn't delivered by then, so there's a definite deadline. Ash has spent her last weekend in the kingdom of non-external mommydom. She's excited/nervous/scared. Who wouldn't be a bit nervous? Personally, I'm hoping that I'll get to spend enough time holding Abbey that I'll be over my irrational fear of babies by the time Noah makes an appearance.

Babies are floppy! They can't talk! And wet ones are slippery!

I've been told that all mothers go through a period of "Holy cow. They're sending me home with THAT?" It seems like if we have screening programs and require licenses for things that there should be a little more to getting to take home a baby than, "Yep. This is the one that you popped out. Good luck!" Then they give you a freebie basket with a lot of advertising and a couple of diapers and you're out.

We're at t-minus 46 days with Noah unless he decides to come before the induction. I'm kinda hoping that he does. I'm also hoping that he assumes the launch position without me having to be mauled by the doctor. Apparently, Cahill-Parker hybrids take the stubborness from both sides of the family, so here he is, weeks after he should have flipped...with his head stuck snugly under my ribs.

Ow.

So. Yes. It is a week of arrivals. Abigail will be here by Thursday night, Karissa will be home for Thanksgiving either Thursday or Friday, and my brain may be returning at some point. Not holding my breath so much.

Keep Ash and Brad in your prayers (and whoever may need to catch Brad in Labor and Delivery), and I'll have someone computer literate show me how to post pictures of the little angel after she gets here.

Be well!

I'm an ark.

Seriously. I've got Noah in here, and there's enough movement that there may be several dozen animals, albeit quite small ones.

When people say that being pregnant is like being on a roller coaster, they aren't kidding. You're up, you're down, and quite frequently you think that some bit of you must have been left behind after a particularly sharp turn (i.e. feet. I still see them sometimes if I take really big steps. Or gracefulness. There wasn't much there to start with!).

I've had a really easy pregnancy so far, and we're heading into the home stretch with about 7 weeks to go. Some things are incredibly annoying, like waking up every two hours at night or the ever lovely stretch marks. Stretch marks, in case you don't know, do interesting things in the light. If you're turned at a particular angle, they are visible. If you're past that angle, they fade into your skin. It was a sad, sad day on Saturday when I realized that I do, in fact, have stretch marks all the way around my abdomen. I'm also not a fun of living on Tums. I didn't like SweetTarts anyway, and now that they're chalky I like them even less. I'm also losing brain cells or connections or something...I can't remember where I put things, am even more random than I was pre-prego, and can't seem to focus on much of anything. It's very disconcerting.

But even on weepy, cranky, very pregnant pregnant days when I have no idea how I'm going to be a Mom (aaaaaaahhhhhhh!) it makes me smile when Noah moves. Sometimes you have to sugar the kid up for this to happen, or eat something spicy, but he still moves. Usually a lot. I have no idea how he still has enough room in there to be doing flips, but he does.

And I'm lucky. I have a wonderful and supportive hubby and a house and a squishy rocking chair that I will be getting very well acquainted with after Noah gets here. Not everyone is that fortunate.

My girls are throwing a baby shower for a young Mom around here. She's got no church family and basically no support at home. She does have heart problems, low income, and they told her two weeks ago that she may have cervical cancer. (And then they promptly scheduled her next appointment for three weeks from then. Don't get me on THAT soapbox.) But she's working full time AND going to school full time AND obviously being pregnant full time. She's trying to improve where she's at. Yesterday at church we did a fundraiser- the girls made cookies, I brought up a ton of cookbooks, and we let people make donations. The cookies were good, a lot of the cookbooks went away, and we got far beyond what we thought we would be able to get for funds. There are some very generous and kind-hearted people at our church.

I'm so proud of these girls. They're taking care of this Mom (THE fundamental ministry is taking care of people), and it was entirely their idea. They're coordinating the shower, they're doing invitations, all of that technical stuff. It's amazing. We sell young people short so many times. They have more of a capacity and willingness to reach out than a lot of "grownups" but aren't given the chance.

This shower is on December 2nd. I plan on taking pictures and showing people what our kids are capable of doing. Maybe they'll change their mind about what this generation is like.