I was at Target looking at Method cleaning supplies when my phone rang. I looked and saw that it was Becky, your grandma. I was puzzled because it wasn't 4:30, not even close, and that was the time I was expecting to hear news about your mom's dr. appointment.
"Katy's going to the hospital."
My heart started racing. And then she told me how your mom had rescheduled her appointment to go in early because something was going on. Well, you were going on because she was already dilated to a six, and the doctor sent her straight to the hospital.
I methodically spent the next 30 seconds looking at what I was looking at. I didn't want to show up right away. Fashionably late, right? (I'll teach you these things.) I left the store, and on my way home, I realized I was speeding, a lot. Fashionably late wasn't going to work this time. I was excited, and I wanted to be where you were...because you're already that cool.
I dashed into my house to grab some food and entertainment for your cousins, Cora and Magnolia, then I dashed into the garage for the stroller so I could carry all of it in one trip, and we were off. I made it to the hospital in less than 20 minutes from my house. No small feat.
I got there right in the middle of one of your mom's contractions. They'd already broken her water, and let me tell you, as if you'll ever really know (I can't teach you everything)...contractions after broken water are crazy-faced. They were just starting prep for her epidural. I didn't hang out too long. I didn't know she was that far along or I wouldn't have barged in with my stroller-o-fun, but I'm glad I did. I'll tell you why later.
Cora, Magnolia and I hung out in the seriously awesome waiting room for about 20-30 minutes before our other family arrived. Great-Aunt Tracey, Meemaw, Peepaw, Uncdiddy Kory, and Grandpa aka Kerry Brinlee aka Sir came down the hall. They were all so nervous! That's the crazy thing about the transition time of giving birth. Everyone is so excited, but scared at the same time because there are so many unknowns. No matter how routine it is, it's still a mystery. You're safe and warm in your mama's tummy, and you travel a relatively short distance to make it out, but you still have to make it out, and it's still a miracle every time a baby is born. Yes, you are a miracle, too.
I ran to your house (your house that you'll live in for a few days because your parents are moving this weekend) to gather all the things your parents had prepared for your arrival but couldn't grab because of your hastened arrival. (Let this be a lesson: Preparation is super rad, but life will sometimes throw you curve balls, like being dilated to a six (not that you personally will have to worry about that), and you'll have to adjust. Plan B, if you will, and plan B always works out just as well, if not better, than the initial plan.)
I got back and your mom was already pushing. I was like, "Phew, I made it." And then a lot more time went by than what we were all anticipating. In the meantime, we watched this (I'm borrowing your great-aunt Angie's photos - she showed up after I got back with the stuff - with more cousins and a little while later, you other great-grandparents arrived. And your dad's side of the family was anxiously awaiting your arrival from their own homelands. Every time we would call to update someone, they would say they knew because Celeste (Grandma) had posted it on facebook - there were people all over looking forward to your arrival):
Magnolia was watching the storm roll in. We all were.
We had an excellent view.
Angie caught the rad lighting shot after many misses.After all of that hard work, you had arrived! 7 pounds 7 ounces. We were elated. There was jumping up and down. While we were waiting for you to become acquanited with your mom and dad, the hail came. No joke. Golf ball sized. And then everything went dark outside, and debris was hitting the waiting room windows. We all moved away from the windows. The power went out shortly after, and it took what seemed like forever (less than a minute) for the generators to come on. What a day! The evening ended up being beautiful. This rainbow was just for you, I know it.
Let me tell you a bit about your mama:
She was perfect. I could see the determination in her eyes with each contraction I saw her go through. (Your dad was sweetly encouraging, too) And when I saw you in her arms after you were born, I had tears in my eyes. You were holding onto her finger, and looking up at her. She was made to be yours, and you were made to be hers. You would cry, and she'd gently give you a soft, "shh," and tell you it was okay, and that was enough. I can't wait to see you and your family today. I love you!
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