At my 32 week appointment, the doctor checked our little baby's position. His head was in my ribs.
"He still has plenty of time to turn!" she said.
So I did the only thing I know how to do, which is everything humanly possible to get him to move head-down. I tried spinning babies, the chiropractor, hot and cold compresses, an inversion table---but he never did. London was born via emergency C-section, and an 8 week recovery with 5 small children to care for was not exactly in my plans. Finally, on a Monday morning, two days before I went into spontaneous labor, my doctor scheduled a version. Kyle called it medieval torture, but it was basically the doctor pushing REALLY hard on my belly to manually turn the baby. The pain was excruciating, but only lasted a few minutes, and he turned immediately! I'm convinced it was because of all the prayers offered by the people I love the most!
I played volleyball with my favorite teenagers from church the following evening, even though my mom tried to stop me. Our team was amazing, despite my laughable attempts to waddle towards the ball and bump it with my arms, rather than my
enormous baby belly. "You're going to go into labor!" my mom called from the sidelines. "Sounds good to me!" I replied.
I woke up the next morning, got Elle ready for school, and immediately climbed back in bed. I was having some uncomfortable contractions, but nothing I couldn't handle. I'd volunteered to make South African food for a homeschool group London meets with on Wednesdays at 10, and I realized I had to get out of bed right away and get to the kitchen. We made it to the group, and the other moms dished up the food for me, while I sat at a nearby table, breathing through contractions. These lasted all day, until a phone call with my mom around 7 pm.
"No, Mom, I'm fine....Yes, I'm timing them....Yeah, but they're not that bad....I can still talk through them. I'm fine....I-----------" and then I had one of those BIG ones. You know, the contractions where tears pour from your eyes and you can't speak?
Hospital time!
At the hospital, I was told I needed 2 rounds of antibiotics before I could deliver. They wouldn't break my water until 2 am at the earliest- so I laid in the hospital bed, contracting every 2-3 minutes, for HOURS. Around 1 AM, I was sooooo done with the pain and requested an epidural. Normally, the epidural man is my favorite person on earth. The moment he puts that magic medicine in, I nearly leap off my hospital bed to kiss his face. This time, I didn't feel much of a difference after he rolled out of my hospital room. I pressed the "boost" button with each and every contraction, and still wasn't getting any relief. The nurses called him back in after he completed a C section, and sure enough, the epidural was defective. "No problem!" he declared. He would do it over again.
I leaned forward, and he began his work. I suddenly started feeling really nauseous. The nurse handed me a bag, and then came the dizziness. My vision blurred, and I managed to tell the nurse so before falling onto her shoulder. I could hear the nurse and the anesthesiologist speaking, but I couldn't respond. "Give her another one!" I felt a needle go into my arm. "Another one!" I heard once more. I smelled alcohol close to my nose. The adrenaline they gave me made me shake for a while afterward, but I was finally able to rest!
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| Reid's baby blessing |
My labor progressed S L O W L Y from there, likely because the double dose of epidural made me so very very numb. When it was finally time to push, Doctor Vu raised the bed all the way up, so he was actually standing during delivery! After 30 minutes of pushing, the doctor decided to turn our posterior little love, and half a push later, out came a perfect red-headed Garvin boy.
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I already cut around his ears!
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We named him Reid Kimball. Reid, which ironically means "red haired", and Kimball, after Kyle's brother, who he has the sweetest relationship in the world with, and I was more than happy to honor.
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| Our first morning home... |
What is it like having five children? Honestly, it's better than anything else I can imagine. I really can't believe that we have
five---- I mean---- let's be real---- that's a
pretty big number. My life is exhausting and crazy and so beautifully fulfilling. I'm so looking forward to 3 weeks of Christmas break with nothing to do at all but hold and cuddle and love this baby boy. We all adore our darling little Reid!
So I did the only thing I know how to do, which is everything humanly possible to get him to move head-down. I tried spinning babies, the chiropractor, hot and cold compresses, an inversion table---but he never did. London was born via emergency C-section, and an 8 week recovery with 5 small children to care for was not exactly in my plans. Finally, on a Monday morning, two days before I went into spontaneous labor, my doctor scheduled a version. Kyle called it medieval torture, but it was basically the doctor pushing REALLY hard on my belly to manually turn the baby. The pain was excruciating, but only lasted a few minutes, and he turned immediately! I'm convinced it was because of all the prayers offered by the people I love the most!
I played volleyball with my favorite teenagers from church the following evening, even though my mom tried to stop me. Our team was amazing, despite my laughable attempts to waddle towards the ball and bump it with my arms, rather than my enormous baby belly. "You're going to go into labor!" my mom called from the sidelines. "Sounds good to me!" I replied.
I woke up the next morning, got Elle ready for school, and immediately climbed back in bed. I was having some uncomfortable contractions, but nothing I couldn't handle. I'd volunteered to make South African food for a homeschool group London meets with on Wednesdays at 10, and I realized I had to get out of bed right away and get to the kitchen. We made it to the group, and the other moms dished up the food for me, while I sat at a nearby table, breathing through contractions. These lasted all day, until a phone call with my mom around 7 pm.
"No, Mom, I'm fine....Yes, I'm timing them....Yeah, but they're not that bad....I can still talk through them. I'm fine....I-----------" and then I had one of those BIG ones. You know, the contractions where tears pour from your eyes and you can't speak?
At the hospital, I was told I needed 2 rounds of antibiotics before I could deliver. They wouldn't break my water until 2 am at the earliest- so I laid in the hospital bed, contracting every 2-3 minutes, for HOURS. Around 1 AM, I was sooooo done with the pain and requested an epidural. Normally, the epidural man is my favorite person on earth. The moment he puts that magic medicine in, I nearly leap off my hospital bed to kiss his face. This time, I didn't feel much of a difference after he rolled out of my hospital room. I pressed the "boost" button with each and every contraction, and still wasn't getting any relief. The nurses called him back in after he completed a C section, and sure enough, the epidural was defective. "No problem!" he declared. He would do it over again.
I leaned forward, and he began his work. I suddenly started feeling really nauseous. The nurse handed me a bag, and then came the dizziness. My vision blurred, and I managed to tell the nurse so before falling onto her shoulder. I could hear the nurse and the anesthesiologist speaking, but I couldn't respond. "Give her another one!" I felt a needle go into my arm. "Another one!" I heard once more. I smelled alcohol close to my nose. The adrenaline they gave me made me shake for a while afterward, but I was finally able to rest!
