Titus

 I always find peculiarity in the routine, mundane, daily tasks that we do on the most significant days of our lives.  Like the garbage you take out on your wedding day.  Like the laundry you do on Christmas morning.  Like the shower I took before I went to the hospital on the day my son was born.  I knew that the next time I climbed into that shower, my life would be very, very different.  The next time I washed my body, my tight, expectant belly would be gone.  I knew that this was the day my baby would be born.

It was Friday November 16, my sister's birthday. I was just over 37 weeks pregnant, due on December 5.  Jeff and I had planned a "Romantic Weekend Getaway" to St. George.  We were planning to leave after my Alison's Pantry customers had picked up their orders and Jeff had returned from school in Ogden.  The kids were going to stay with my parents for the weekend, and we were going to be able to go to the Temple on Saturday to participate in the sealing of my uncle with his wife and two young sons.  We were going to knock out the rest of our Christmas shopping and spend some much-needed time together.  I had gotten up at 4:45 that morning and went to Zumba, where I attempted high kicks and peed my pants.  I was spending the day cleaning the house in order to get ready for the weekend.  I was walking from this kitchen to start cleaning the bathroom at 1:30 in the afternoon when my water broke.

Interestingly enough, I was only certain it was my water that had broken because of how it smelled.  The scent took me right back to the delivery room, and I knew that's what it was.  A flood of thoughts rushed my mind, the first being whether or not I was far enough along in my pregnancy to deliver a healthy baby.  I cleaned the bathroom then called my doctor.  He reassured me that I could safely deliver at this point in my pregnancy.  I frantically opened the new car seat and new bouncer that were gifted to us, and boxes of baby clothes from the storage unit to wash.  I was sweeping the kitchen floor when Jeff called to let me know he would be a little later than expected.  I knew he had an exam to take that night, and I didn't want to distract him too much.  But I decided to break the news that our trip to St. George was cancelled.  When I told him my water had broken, he told me to sit down and rest.  Right.  He also told me to call Expedia and try to get a refund for our room. 

As the hours passed, my contractions began and progressed.  My older kids got home from school and I told them that their fun weekend with Grandma had been cancelled.  Their disappointment was only alleviated when I told them that instead, we would be having our new baby that weekend.  They all excitedly pitched in and helped get the house picked up so we would be ready.  Jeff got home and got his exam taken care of.  I put a hospital bag together.  When my contractions were coming 5-7 minutes apart, we got ready to go to the hospital.  It was 7:45.  Jeff took one last picture of me before we left.

 My labor progressed quickly after we arrived at the hospital.  I was able to move freely around the delivery room without being hooked to any monitors or IVs, which was really nice.  The staff left us alone to do our thing, so it was just Jeff and I working through labor and getting ready to welcome our new little one.  When I knew it was time to push, I sent Jeff out to find the doctor, but my doctor hadn't arrived yet, and the labor and delivery nurse was no where to be found.  Jeff ran over and grabbed the doctor out of the ER who came into the room a little frantic.  The medical team assembled quickly and I pushed through one contraction.  Then my doctor walked in, took over for the ER doc, and as I pushed through the next contraction, my baby was born.  I was SHOCKED that it was a boy.  I felt so certain that I had been carrying a girl.  I really didn't have any doubt that I would be bringing home a daughter.  My doctor handed him up to me immediately and I was overcome with that indescribable feeling that is one of the choicest, most sacred experiences in all of mortality.  Even now as I relive those moments in my very recent memory, I am in awe that God allows us to be part of such a wondrous miracle.  I kept telling my baby how much I loved him, and how perfect he was. 

 He was born at 9:32, just about an hour and a half after we arrived at the hospital.  He weighed 6 pounds and 14 ounces, and was 19 inches long.

 There are few things I treasure more than watching Jeff, who loves me so completely and whom I admire so much, cradle his brand new baby.

 The kids were anxiously waiting to meet their new sibling.  Isaac made himself right at home.

 Daisy was initially disappointed that she did not have a little sister, but that feeling lasted only nanoseconds once she met our new little guy.

 We had only really tested out girl names, so naming our new little guy was harder than we thought it would be.  We have given each of our sons names from the Bible, and we finally settled on Titus, after the valiant convert in the New Testament. 

 The brand new baby stage passes so quickly.  They stop having meconium.  Their umbilical stump falls off.  Their delicate, dry skin plumps up.  I am trying to soak it all in before it is gone.

 I had to throw in a shot of the Dansie Family Circus, the first photo featuring our new act.

 We brought Titus home on Sunday, November 18.  The 'coming home' part of having a baby has always felt so stressful to me.  All the paperwork.  All the discharge instructions.  Heading out into the real world and back to real life.  But this time, it was so nice.  The doctors had already completed their discharge orders by 8:00 in the morning, so we were on our own time frame.  We got ready, ate breakfast, packed up our room, and we were out of there by 10:00 AM.

 Big sister has laid claim on this little man.  She is a natural.  I am so thankful for her help.

Our happy family.  Jeff, Levi, Titus, Daisy, me, and Isaac.