I suppose the story of my youngest daughter starts almost a
year before we welcomed her into the world. Nate and I were certain that we
were finished with having children. I was so pleased to have been blessed with
three boys and three girls. We were still basking in the miracle that was
Rhianna. After being born prematurely and having to stay in the NICU, we felt
we’d been blessed to a breaking point.
We were visiting family for Christmas when I realized I was
expecting another baby. I cried when I told Nate, who had been quite happily
finished with the five we had before Rhianna. He didn’t respond to the news
that I thought I was pregnant again. I didn’t even know for sure if I was. I
never took a pregnancy test because I didn’t want to.
Of course, I didn’t remain uncertain for long. Neither did I
remain unhappy. As the months passed, the familiar excitement took hold of me.
The reasons for not wanting more children started to seem silly. I entered into
my usual pattern of waiting and anticipation. I would feel more excited at
times (like when I found out we were expecting another little girl and Nate and
I went to lunch to celebrate and pick out a name) and less excited at other
times (like when I had all six kids at church on days when Nate was working).
But, overall, I loved our new baby just like the others, despite her being
unexpected and unasked for.
I waited until April 1st to tell family and friends about
the pregnancy. It amused me to announce our exciting news on a day when I knew
everyone would assume I was lying. I think everyone was pretty shocked when I
never did utter the expected, “April fools!” The news was met with excitement
and surprise from some and a cautious hesitation from others. I didn’t mind. It’s
perfectly understandable that people thought we were crazy. Not only were we
having our seventh child in a decade, but this would be our third baby in three
years.
Each of my babies, with the exception of Rhianna who was
premature, was born in the 38th week of pregnancy. My mom,
therefore, arranged to stay with me in Rexburg during that entire week. She
would have liked to stay longer, but she had to start school the day I hit 39
weeks. That was okay, we all expected to have our new daughter in our arms by
then. It was not to be. Mom was beside herself as the time for her to leave
approached without any sign of the baby showing up. She tried to make herself
feel better by making meals that could be frozen so I would have them for after
the baby and doing laundry for me, but she still worried about the kids and me.
On the day she had to leave, she packed up all of my kids and took them to
Utah. She arranged for my niece to watch them while she was at work. It was a Wednesday
and she promised to bring them back over the weekend. Surely the baby would be
here by then. Nate and I had a lovely couple of days. We went on dates and
spent time alone together. But we didn’t have a baby. On Sunday, Mom returned
as promised, bringing with her my fifteen-year-old niece. Trinda didn’t start school for another week,
so mom reasoned that she could stay with me in case I needed her even though Mom
had to go back to Salt Lake.
Monday dawned the same as every day before it, but about
noon I started feeling some very painful contractions. I was excited, thinking
we had finally made it. I soon became very frustrated. The contractions got as
close as 2-3 minutes apart and never stopped coming, but they weren’t changing
my cervix or increasing in intensity. When night came I was both exhausted and
frustrated. I knew sleeping was out of the question and Nate stayed up with me
until about midnight. By that time, it was more than just the pain that was
getting to me. I had a constant backache and I had started fevering. The
rotating chills and hot flashes were so reminiscent of the symptoms I
experienced when we almost lost Rhianna that my imagination started going wild.
I wandered the house, sat in the recliner with my hand held Doppler and even
tried laying down by Nate for a while. Nothing helped and I wanted so much to
go to the hospital to have them check on the baby. It was almost four in the
morning when Nate came up the stairs to find me. He took my temperature three
times and said, “Let’s just go in.” He didn’t have to convince me. I woke up
Trinda and told her we were going in for monitoring and we headed to the
hospital.
I felt a little stupid when they started asking the
questions. I knew I wasn’t in imminent danger of delivering, but the symptoms
felt like what I went through with my placental abruption and I just wanted
some monitoring on the baby. They hooked me up to the monitors and checked my
cervix. I was dilated to a two and, as she put it, “really thick.” Despite
that, they called my doctor and he said he would come in and check things
himself.
Even though it was four in the morning, the doctor got there
quickly. After saying hello, he walked over to the strip of paper recording the
baby’s heartbeat. He didn’t have to consider this time. He looked at it for a
few seconds and told me we couldn’t wait for my cervix to thin. I would need
another emergency caesarean. Since my only conviction with this pregnancy was
that I did not want a c-section, you would think I would have felt frustration.
I didn’t. I only felt relief. I had been so afraid. Again.
But this delivery wasn’t nearly as bad as the last for one
reason. Nate was there. He held my hand and touched my face while giving me the
play by play. When she was born he whispered, “She’s a girl.” The doctor said, “We
have a blondie.” I couldn’t stop smiling. It may not have been the way I wanted
it, but it was, somehow, absolutely perfect.
Nate stayed with me until I was stitched up and wheeled into
a recovery room. He then went to the NICU with our daughter. She stayed there
for two hours because of the liquid that hadn’t been worked out of her lungs.
When they brought her to me, she was ready to learn to nurse and sleep, just
like my babies born naturally. She weighed 7 pounds 10 ounces and was the only
one of our children born with silver/blonde hair instead of black. But she was
unmistakably ours.
My Masterpiece
Nate and I named our last child Adelaide Amy Hancock. I
think that needs a little bit of explanation. We’ve given each of our children
a middle name chosen to honor someone we admired. But it was more than that. We
wanted our children to know the stories of the family members they were named
after so that they would understand that we expect them to grow into the kind
of people that they received their legacy from.
It’s taken me seven children to decide I wanted one named
after me. After all, it seems a bit arrogant doesn’t it? My perspective has
changed on that point. When an artist creates a masterpiece he always adorns it
with his signature. The cover of a great book is graced with the author’s name.
I don’t think this is necessarily a point of egoism. I think it’s a statement
of value. An artist who pours his soul into his works takes the opportunity to
show the world that this is what he has dedicated his life to. This is what he
values. Even more telling is that the work of art itself represents the best of
the artist. When we admire the beauty of
a great work of art, we don’t see the human faults of the artist. Despite the
fact that we all have failings, struggles and shortcomings, those imperfections
don’t detract from our greatest accomplishments.
My sweet Adelaide, I want you to know that, along with your
siblings, you are my great masterpiece. It truly doesn’t matter what else I do
with my life, I have chosen motherhood to be my greatest accomplishment. I know
that I have and will continue to make mistakes as I raise you. I know that I am
far from perfect in the choices I make each day. But I also know that there is
nothing I could possibly create, accomplish or contribute to that will hold a
candle to you. I have given you my name as a symbol of what you mean to me. I
know that you are truly everything good I have to offer and I promise that
nothing will ever be a higher priority to me then helping you see the value in
yourself that I see in you. Thank you for coming to our family.
