ODE TO KEANE!

Although I have not kept a journal the past few years, my memory is impeccable. So as I warned you in my first post, I am about to do some "flashbacking". (Yes I can make up words on my blog if I need to) I will warn you now that this is the WHOLE story. I apologize if this is too much info for you but this is my family journal so this is just the way it has gotta be. (Sidenote: I sometimes feel the need to make commentary on my words, even as I am writing them. Weird, I know. So as not to confuse the reader, such commentary will be in italics. . .you'll see what I am talking about, just keep reading.)

Aaaah where do I begin? So rewind to a late September evening in 2005, myself being 38 weeks pregnant and walking more than four furious miles (flanked by my chicas Lucy and Gretta) around my neighborhood in high hopes of throwing myself into labor. While I thought I was feeling some rumblings, when you are 38 weeks pregnant pretty much everything hurts all the time anyway. So in defeat and disappointment I settled into bed that night, realizing that I was doomed to another week of pregnancy.

If you know me, you know that I don't really have a lot of patience when it comes to surprises, and I could hardly wait to meet my sweet little baby boy. Lucy and Ty definitely had the whole "Daddy/Daughter" love affair going on, and I needed someone to cuddle on the couch with too! I was completely thrilled when we found out we were having a boy, and began to plot numerous ways to make him fall in love with me! (This cjane post about mother/son love is so true)

Anyhow, I drifted off to sleep and awoke to a warm gush of water. Yes, I think you know just what I'm talkin' about! SCORE! It IS going to be today. I was so ready and now exhilarated at the prospect of meeting my little guy so soon. After diving into a bowl of honey nut cheerios, I concluded that there were just a few things that I needed to do before I left: take a shower and do my hair and makeup extra fancy (because the day you have a baby is the only day when you are the center of attention, the heroine, the athlete, you are photographed, videoed, seen partially or fully nude by a dozen or so people, AND you can pick up a little phone by your bed at 9pm and say "Yes, I would like a banana and an oatmeal raisin cookie so that I can eat them with my new baby, which I grew in my body, and then even though he is the size of a watermelon I pushed him out an opening the size of a lemon, and I may just need a little snack to assist me in the recovery of that amazing feat, so if you could just send one of your cute little candy stripers over to room 124 with that, that would be grrreat." --sigh--I digress--) and of course I would need to make the beds and do the dishes and straighten up because my mother and mother-in-law would surely be stopping by when I returned home . . . needless to say, 2 1/2 hours later I was ready to go.

So I was a little crampy, but not in extreme pain at all, and I was thinking that I would be in labor most of the day. Little did I know that all the primping and straightening up had helped my little guy to position himself perfectly for a quick exit (or entry I suppose). I had a perfect plan. I would load up Gretta and Lucy and our bags, and I would drive them to my mother's house, then pick up Ty from work, and then he could drive me to the hospital and we would begin to get settled. At the insistence of my mother and sister, I decided to let Jana (who lives 5 miles from me) drive me to the hospital. It just so happened, (thank goodness) that her husband was home that day and she was able to just jump in the car with me and go. Because I wasn't in serious pain, and felt completely capable of driving myself, I reluctantly agreed.

About a mile from Jana's house, it started though. I think all you ladies out there know what "it" is. That sharp, hard, relentless, cuss worthy labor that paralyzes you. You can't breathe, think, open your eyes, talk. . . nothing, you just focus on surviving those contractions and hope you get a break between them. Oh baby, I love that pain!!! Kudos to Jana who picked up some serious speedracer moves, no doubt from hubby Byron, and got me to the hospital faster than any ambulance or helicopter could have. As it became evident that things were progressing quickly, my dad was able to pick up Ty from work and meet us at the hospital. As we get out of the car to walk in, Ty realized that it was go time and he grabbed a wheel chair and we were off!

As we entered our room, I changed clothes and laid on the bed. Everybody does it differently: you've got your screamers (ahem--Jana), and your moaners, and your criers, and your cussers, but for some reason, when I am in that moment of excruciating pain, all I want to be is silent. There is no right or wrong way about it, but that is just my way to relax and focus on the task at hand. The disadvantage to that is that none of the nurses seem to feel a bit of urgency if you are just sitting there silently laboring. A few minutes ticked by and I began to feel immense pressure. It kinda felt like, oh I don't know, a 14 inch cranium of an 8 pound baby attempting to exit my pelvis!!! I asked Ty to see if there was a nurse that could take a quick look and see what all the pressure was about.

Well, wouldn't you know it, as soon as she got a glimpse of my undercarriage, there was a flurry of about 9 nurses in there preparing me for delivery. Turns out that I was fully dialated, and ready to rock. (YES! Music to my ears. . .oh, and could you put some fresh batteries in the camera and hand me my lip gloss Ty?) I elected to have an epidural, as we had to wait for my doctor (LOVE Dr. Layton-highly recommend him) to cease the reseeding of his lawn, shower and make the trip down to the hospital. Looking back, I should've just gone for it. Those labor & delivery nurses are so capable. Well, he arrived and a few minutes of pushing and little boy Wheeler was born. What a handsome devil with a bit of dark hair and just the sweetest little face you ever saw. Such an incredible moment that was shared by both my and Ty's mom. As for me and my boy, it was love at first sight. No plotting or planning, just natural and strong.

We had narrowed the name down to Chet or Keane. We felt like Chet was a name for a red headed, rambunctious little boy. Whereas, Keane was a name for a laid back, easy going type of kid. We decided that we would put off naming the little guy until the next day. That night Ty went to tend to Lucy, and I was alone with my new little love. He slept in my arms, ate like a champ, and was nothing but a Class A gentleman. He was Keane for sure! Not a doubt about it.

Ty and I were so grateful for this new little spirit in our family. We knew as we plopped him into the back seat and drove home that our lives would never be the same. I think that no matter how many times you welcome a child into your family, that feeling is always there. The feeling that your Heavenly Father is so near, and maybe even a little nervous for this valiant spirit to embark on his perilous journey on this earth. The feeling that my Heavenly Father trusts me with this task and now I have got to rise up to meet it, no matter how overwhelming it may seem at times. As we arrived home, introduced our little Keane to his red-headed sister, and began life with two, I couldn't help but think of him at different stages of his future life and imagined what kind of man he would grow up to be. I felt then, and still now, so excited and privileged to be the mom of a very special little man, Keane Tyler.

This is the little guy freshly birthed, in the hands of Grandma Susan. Awwww, it's not that bad! We'll protect you from Lucy, we'll try atleast. Speaking of, while we were all oooohing and aaaahing over this. . .







Lucy was enjoying her new found independence in many ways. . .







Next Post (maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, I just don't know) : Keane, The Early Years (yeah, there are only three) and his much anticipated dinosaur birthday!