Dear Lyla

Dear Sweet Lyla, 
Today you turned 2.  I can't believe how quickly my little baby girl is growing up.  Did you catch me smiling at you all day today with tiny tears in my eyes?  You were probably too busy playing with all your new toys from your party yesterday to notice, but emotion kept striking me at the strangest times.  I would look at the clock and a memory of 2 years ago at that exact moment would rush over me.  I was cleaning my office today and found a notebook where I jotted down some of the events that took place over the 36 plus hours before you entered this world.  It's funny how I thought I might forget, and although they are a little faded, the memories are still so clearly there.  


The days leading up to your birth were filled with tragedy and sorrow and an event that forever changed the lives of our family.  Your Great Grandfather, Bob Mrozinski, passed away on Monday, February 23rd. I remember that day all too clearly, being at work that day and getting the call from Chad that his grandpa was in the hospital.  My ever-calm husband's voice was filled with a tone I don't think I had ever heard before; worry.  I knew that it wasn't good.  I rushed to the hospital to be with our family.  The room was filled with tears and I prayed a million prayers but in my heart knew something was wrong.  I remember touching my belly and holding onto you, and during that tragic time, you gave me strength.  The contractions started then.  I had been having Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off for weeks, if not months, so I brushed them off thinking that's what they were. They were definitely getting more uncomfortable, but it wasn't anything that I couldn't handle.  They were the last thing on my mind though, as I cried tears that I didn't think would ever stop flowing.  You see, your Great Grandpa Bob was a man that I don't think that I will ever be able to explain to you.  I knew him long before I married your daddy, and he was one of a kind.  I wish he could have been around to meet his first great grandchild; I know he would be so proud of you. 


You weren't due to arrive until March 5th, about two weeks away.  Up until that point, I kept silently wishing that you would come early.  After Bob died, I prayed and prayed that I would just be able to make it until after the funeral was over.  I had to get through that first.


You had other plans. 


The next few days were spent with family and making plans.  I remember being with family that Wednesday night, and getting some dinner to-go from a local restaurant.  After I ate it my stomach felt really uneasy, and I chalked it up to the greasy food I just ate.  We went home and went to bed, and I woke up a few times throughout the night with what I thought might have been contractions, but nothing too painful, so I continued to lay there and tried to go back to sleep.  Around 3:00 am Thursday morning, they must have gotten more intense, because I must have gasped pretty loud, loud enough to wake up your daddy, and he asked me if I was okay.  I told him I thought I was having contractions, so I was going to get up and time them and see if they were the real deal or not. 


I took a bath and tried to get comfortable.  The contractions were about 5 minutes apart and had been consistent for several hours.  At 6:00 am I woke your daddy up and told him that we probably should go to the hospital.  I took a shower and even blow dried my hair.  We headed up to the hospital where  I thought I was going to meet you sometime soon!


We got to Labor & Delivery around 9:00 am on Thursday, February 26th, and they checked me and gave me the news; my cervix was closed (by the way, if you don't like to hear the word "cervix" or "dilate," I don't recommend that you continue reading).  They kept me until 10:30 am to see if anything would change, but it did not.  They told us to go home and wait it out.  I was definitely disappointed, but figured in a few hours things would speed up, and I would be back there in no time. 


When I got home, I tried to rest and kept timing the contractions.  Grandpa Bob's viewing was the next day, and everyone was getting together to work on preparations, and I had to miss out.  I told Chad to go join them while I rested, and I would call him when I thought it was time.


My contractions stayed steady at about 5 minutes apart all day, but they did increase in intensity.  At about 2:30 pm, I remember calling up to L&D, half crying, and kind of begging for them to let me come back.  They recommended I wait until the contractions were 2-3 minutes apart.  I didn't like to hear that. 


We went back to the hospital at 6:00 pm that night, and I was definitely in some serious pain.  I expected to get there and them pretty much tell me that they needed to rush me into the delivery room, because you were on your way.  I was wrong.  I was barely dilated 1 cm, and I think they made that up and told me that number since I was obviously in a very fragile state.  I was pretty miserable at that point.  I kept thinking in my head that I would either need to give birth NOW, or this labor needed to stop for a few days, because I didn't want to miss Grandpa Bob's funeral, and even if I had to, I definitely didn't want Chad to have to miss out.  One of the nurses noticed that I was in obvious pain, and exhausted, and distraught from the loss of my grandfather-in-law, so she said something along the lines of "Maybe they can give you a good old fashioned dose of narcotics, because that would either knock your contractions out if this is false labor, or take the pain away and speed things up if it's the real deal."  At that point, I was ready to sign up for anything.  They then told me that if I 
took that route, it would be mandatory that I stay for 23 hours, no matter what the verdict was (baby or no baby).  Well, that 23 hours would put me smack dab in the middle of Bob's viewing.  My other option was to leave (again) for a few hours and wait it out.  They recommend that I go home and walk for awhile, and maybe it would speed things up.  We told them that we had kind of a drive from the hospital.  They recommended that I go walk at Walmart, because it's open 24 hours.  I thought that recommendation was pretty ridiculous.  They said I could take some Tylenol, and we didn't have any, so I actually did have to go into Walmart to get some.  Wow, I was miserable.  Imagine me half crying, half panting, walking into Walmart to buy Tylenol.  It must have been a sight.  


We did end up going home and that's where I thought I might die.  I thought I had a pretty good tolerance for pain, but you have no idea what labor is going to feel like until it happens.  I walked and paced around the house and the contractions were coming one on top of another.  I never had any time to relax or catch my breath between contractions.  We weren't home for very long before I demanded (in my overly pregnant state) that we go back to the hospital, and I was going to take the narcotics, even if it meant I had to stay there for 23 hours.  I couldn't take the pain any longer.  (I shudder now when I think about that decision, and when I hear myself use the word narcotics, because it sounds so dangerous.  The nurses and doctor reassured me that it was safe for my baby, but I know I would never take that route again.  I was not in a rational state of mind).


We got back to the hospital around 10 pm.  Mind you, I had been up since 3 am, I was having some strong and steady contractions all day, so I was pretty exhausted and overly emotional.  I got checked again and I was still barely dilated.  I couldn't even believe that was possible.


They gave me a shot of morphine in my arm and hooked me up to a morphine drip and reassured me that I would be out of pain in no time.  They were very wrong.  I didn't think it was possible, but the pain kept getting worse.  I kept asking the nurses why the pain wasn't going away, and why I wasn't feeling better, and they just kind of looked at me with an "I'm sorry" look in their eyes and said that they didn't really know.  I laid there for several hours, fighting through the contractions, and pretty much passing out in the minute or two that I had in between them.  Around 1:15 am into Friday morning, the nurse checked me again and gave me the best news ever:  I was dilated to 3 cm.  She asked if I wanted an epidural, and I said I wanted one yesterday.  I got it around 2:15 am, and by around 3 am I was feeling so much better!  I could breathe again!  I could talk!  I was almost giddy with joy!  The nurses told me I should try to rest then, and although I thought that sounded like a great idea, I was too overcome with pain relief that I couldn't rest!  I chatted the nurses ear off, called my mom in the middle of the night and chatted to her, and laid there dreaming about what you might be like.  Things finally started moving along; by 5 am I was at 5 cm, by 8 am I was at 8 cm.  The nurse said that my doctor would be in sometime that morning to break my water and then things would really move along quickly.  


I had planned on being really secretive about being at the hospital, and really didn't want anyone to know that I was in labor so we wouldn't be bombarded with visitors right away, and so we could enjoy some quiet time together and with our new baby.  Since my labor fell smack dab in the middle of another major family event, the viewing and funeral, we couldn't hide very well and everyone knew where we were.  I remember Chad telling people that I would probably have the baby in about an hour (I have no idea where he got that number, and I kept telling him that there is no way the baby would be here in an hour, but that didn't ruin his excitement level and he carried on that way). 


At 9:00 am, the doctor broke my water (I was still at 8 cm), and I imagined those last 2 centimeters going by really quickly (although, not quite as quickly as Chad imagined).  


Somehow, everything slowed down and came to a standstill again.  I was at 9 or even 10 cm, but wasn't completely effaced yet.  Around this time, my wonderful epidural started failing me.  It was wearing off and I was getting very uncomfortable again.  I didn't know it was possible, but they got me another bag for the epidural, and they claimed that this new bag had stronger meds in it.  I was having tons of back labor because you were posterior (face up), instead of the face down position that is more conducive to birthing.  The epidural was definitely not working very well at this point.


We were still waiting at 1:15 pm, when they decided to give me a little pitocin to move this last little stretch along.  The word pitocin scared me, and I never wanted to have anything to do with it, but at this point, I just wanted to get you out and meet you; I was so close.


I was so beyond exhausted, since I still hadn't really slept since waking up around 3:00 am the previous morning. I didn't know how I would even have the energy to push when the time came.


At 3:00 pm the nurses switched, and I had the most wonderful nurse who was studying to be a midwife at the time.  I don't know what I would have done without her.  She was the same nurse who had taught our childbirth preparation class, so I was relieved to see a familiar face, and she had been so helpful during that class.  She decided that I was ready to start pushing!


I pushed for 2 hours, and at 5:01 pm on Friday, February 27th, you were born.  We named you Lyla Grace Mrozinski, we chose the most beautiful name in the world for the most beautiful baby in the world.  The moment I heard you cry and saw your face will forever rock my world.  I cried uncontrollable, sobbing tears of joy and relief.  You were here and you were perfect and you were all I ever dreamed of and so much, much more. 














You brought light into an otherwise dark time, with your great grandpa Bob's death.  You put smiles on everyone's faces, when all they wanted to do is cry.  You gave everyone a reason to keep pushing forward, and get through that otherwise unimaginable time.  You see, God knows what he is doing.  It's true what they say about the Circle of Life.  


I didn't think I could ever love you more than I did the day I first met you.  I was wrong, each and every single day my heart stretches out to fill with even more love than I thought that it could possibly hold.  You are my world and my everything and I love you I love you I love you.  

I thank God a million times a day, every day, for blessing us with this wonderful gift.  We are so lucky that He chose us to be your parents.  


I love watching you change and grow each and every day.  I want to hold on to every single thing you do, everything you say, every single look you give me, and I never want to forget it. Your hugs and kisses and "I wub you mommy"s melt my heart each and every time.   I want to remember each and every moment with you forever.  


Happy 2nd Birthday, Sweet Lyla.  I love you more than words can ever say.


Love, 
Your Proud Mommy.