Keira

Our little leprechaun finally arrived last week. I was supposed to go in to L&D at 7am last Thursday, but Kaweah Delta got totally slammed that morning--seriously, they had women delivering in triage--so I got a call at 6:15am that I was going to have to wait. I was not patient about that. Thankfully, I got a call at about 11:30 that some beds had opened up and we could come in, so we left the kids with Mom (she'd flown in the night before) and headed to Visalia.

At two full weeks overdue with baby number four, my body had made virtually no progress; I'm starting to think that if I left it up to my babies, I really would be pregnant for 10 months at a time! Anyway, I got a dose of meds to get things moving, which did very little. So four hours later, I got another dose, with did a tiny bit more. I hate that part--that's what I hate about having to be induced, just sitting in the hospital, waiting. Its so mind-numbingly boring. Anyway, at about 9 that evening, Rita came in and checked and figured I was far enough along that she could break my water.

So immediately after that I started getting real contractions (yay!) and started doing the walking-the-labor-and-delivery-loop thing, which seemed to help things along. About an hour later I was at a 5 (I had been at a 2.5 when she broke my water) and the baby had definitely moved down, so I was hoping I might still get my St. Patrick's Day baby after all. About a half an hour after that, the contractions were at a point that I couldn't really walk or stand any more so the nurse checked and called Rita. She was so cute as she was rolling me to the recovery ward she said, "Rita asked how it was going and I said, 'Well, I don't know--she's at a 7.5 or 8, but there's still a smile on her face.' Rita said, 'Ok, I'll be right there, it'll be gone in a minute.'" A half an hour later, at 11:10pm, Keira arrived. (Side note: I didn't want an epidural after my experience with Kylie, and it was totally the right decision--much better to do it drug-free, in the long run).

When I saw her, the first thing out of my mouth was, "You're so tiny!" She looked like a little shrimp--short, no rolls anywhere, and hardly any cheeks to speak of! I thought she was going to be in the 7 pound range, she looked so little. It turns out that she weighed 8 pounds and 1 ounce, but she was only 19 inches long. There had been meconium when they broke my water, so Rita had to get her all suctioned out and she looked a little grey, but she put her lungs to good use immediately, which pinked her right up. She screamed and screamed, and not that newborn, bleating cry: it was more like an opera wail. This little girl can shriek! Once I nursed her, she calmed down pretty quick, and has been pretty calm since we brought her home, but there's not really a middle ground when she gets upset--she just goes from 0 to 60 in seconds.

The kids are all really excited and fight over whose turn it is to hold her. We're all adjusting pretty well (we'll see how Kylie does once her playmates are done with spring break and go back to school this week!)

Right after delivery--shrieking away!

Photographic evidence that she isn't as shrimpy as I want to think she is.

Yaya with all the girls, the day after we got home from the hospital.

Hanging out on her new quilt from Grandma Umphrey.

My four little monsters:)

Usually pretty calm and content--lets hope it stays that way!