Falling in love again...

Thomas Michael DeGaetano

Born May 13th, 2012

12:56am

8 pounds 9 ounces

20 1/2 inches

 

 Thomas Michael is my fourth baby....

I think I look pretty terrible in this picture, but I don't care.  It reminds me of those first few beautiful moments with your baby.  You are exhausted.  You are drained.  You can barely move.  But you hold that baby in your arms so close to you, and nothing else matters.  I get tears in my eyes just thinking about it.

 

 Little baby hats are cute, but I firmly believe that if your baby has hair - you gotta show it off!  Besides, one of my favorite things is to stroke my newborns' head - it feels like velvet and smells amazing...

Thomas has the least hair of any of my kids, and even funnier - it is much lighter...dare I say...blonde-looking?  I didn't even think that was possible for a DeGaetano baby.

 Taking in the new, wide world.  I love that look in a newborns' eyes - so full of wonder and innocence...

 I love his cheeks, and I am constantly kissing them

 I love my baby...so much... :)

 The girls walked into the hospital room with this reverent air about them - they just couldn't believe they had a new baby brother, and kept whispering and giggling to each other about how cute he was.  They wasted no time in asking to hold him.

 This picture is Maria to a "T" - our "little mama", as always...

 Married 13 years, with four kids - love. :)

 Lou is absolutely thrilled that he got his wish - another boy.

 And since I was secretly hoping for another boy this entire pregnancy, I couldn't be happier myself.

 When Edward came to visit us in the hospital, he was ambivalent, at best, about the baby.  He barely even looked at him.  We asked him "Do you see the baby?", to which he casually replied "Yep".  Then we asked "Do you want to hold the baby?", to which he replied, just as casually "Nope".   Yeah, he wasn't impressed.

Until we got home and he saw Maria (whom he practically worships) holding Thomas.  All of a sudden he was saying "Me hold Thomas?"  And then he was just as excited as the rest of us.

He still asks to hold him everyday, and tries to comfort him when he is upset.  I think it is so neat that he has a little brother.

 Home and peacefully sleeping in the bassinett that has been in our family for 4 generations now.

And here is our first family photo, taken the day we came home.  It wasn't until after dinner that I realized we hadn't taken a new family picture yet, so I insisted that we do one right away, to mark Thomas' coming home.

Not exactly Hallmark material, but we had all just finished cleaning up an "Edward disaster" (2 tubes of toothpaste used to paint a large portion of our upstairs).  Oh well, this is us - what can I say?

Welcome to the family, baby Thomas.  We love you. :) 



And for those of you who want to hear the birth story (I know that I always do), here it is (it's a bit long, because I like details in my stories ;) :

We had some nice plans for Saturday, May 12th, as it was my birthday.  Lou and I were going to drop the kids off at my parents and go out for a birthday dinner at Pastabilities, and then head over to my Mom's house for dessert (homemade Strawberry Shortcake - my favorite).

It was a laid back day.  I took the kids to swim lessons, then came home and put Edward down for a nap.  I decided to take a nice relaxing bath, shave my legs and paints my toenails to look nice for our date.  We just kind of hung out all day and enjoyed the sunshine.  We dropped the kids off at my Moms and went out to dinner.

We had a bit of a wait time to be seated, so we strolled around downtown a bit to kill some time.  Here's where the story gets kind of funny.  We wandered into this little back ally into a store called "Off the Beaten Path".  It had all kinds of cutesy hand-made jewelry and really expensive boutique clothing and purses.  The owner, who was dressed like a Gothic Gypsy, came up to me with this huge smile on her face.  "Oh my gosh, you are ADORABLE!", she squealed.  Then she asked what we were having.  When we told her we didn't know, she blurted out "It's a boy.  I just know it".  Then she added "You are close, aren't you?".  I told her I was due in a week, but was hoping to go sooner, as I was really worn out at that point.  She came over to me, getting close enough to really be in my personal space and said "Just one moment".  She then closed her eyes, placed her hands on my belly, and said with a completely serious face:  "You are coming tomorrow.  You are going to be born tomorrow".  I was trying not to laugh, because she looked like she was trying to cast a spell or something.  She opened her eyes, took her hands off my belly, backed away and said with a completely straight face: "You're going to have that baby tomorrow.  And it's going to be a boy".  Lou and I kind of smirked at each other and told her jokingly that if it didn't happen we were going to come back and give her a hard time.  "I'm serious", she said.  "They don't call me 'La Bruja' (which is the Spanish word for 'witch') for nothing".  Well, it turned out that she was right - on both counts.  I hope it's not bad luck to have your baby's birth predicted by some crazy soothsayer in a back alley... ;)

Lou and I had an amazing dinner at Pastabilities (why have we never gone there before?!) and then headed back to my Moms for yummy Strawberry Shortcake and presents.

It was time to head home, and Edward needed help on the potty.  I crouched down to help him with his underwear, then grunted as I stood up (because when you are nine months pregnant, you grunt with practically every move!).  My Mom was chastising me for crouching down like that (which I had to laugh at - who did she think helped Edward on the potty everyday?!) when all of a sudden I felt a small gush you-know-where.  I stopped and gasped, and felt another little trickle.  "Oh, OH!" was all I could get out.  My Mom asked if I was having a contraction and I said "No, um, I think my water just broke".  I took two more steps - another small gush.  I went to the bathroom because I didn't know what else to do - just sit there and let it run down my legs?!  More and more just kept coming (having your water break is such a strange sensation) and my Mom brought me a clean towel to stuff in my pants to absorb the flow.  It was crazy for it to happen in the company of so many people (my water has always broken in the middle of the night in the past) - like a cheesy movie or something, but it was kind of neat in a way, because my family was all there to share in the excitement.

So yeah, time to pack up the kids and head home and get ready to go to the hospital.  It was about 8pm.
We got home and Lou put all the kids to bed (the girls were so excited  - the baby was coming!!).  Meanwhile, I went into crazy nesting-mode and went through the house in a fury - washing dishes, picking up toys, and sweeping (yes, sweeping) all the floors and steps.  I just had this incredible burst of energy and felt this need to have everything be immaculate.  Lou came downstairs and asked if I had called the doctor.  "Nope.  I'm barely having contractions, and I'm in no rush to go to the hospital and sit around.  I mean, look at this house!  We can't bring the baby home to this!"  Lou just looked at me and laughed.  "Well, if we aren't going to the hospital right now, you should at least take a nap - it's probably going to be a long night".  I didn't even consider that.  "I can't sleep right now!  I just have all this energy and there is so much to DO!"

Well, the contractions started coming around 8:30, but they were so light - almost like Braxton Hicks.  They got a little more intense over the next hour, but nothing major, and I just kept myself busy doing my nesting thing.  At about 10pm, Lou was really chomping at the bit for me to call the doctor.  My contractions were coming every 3-5 minutes, and although I tried to hide it from Lou, he could tell that they were really starting to hurt.  I relented and called the doctor, who told me to get my booty up to the hospital.  I wandered around and straightened up some more, while Lou called my Mom and asked her to come over.

We got to the hospital at about 11pm, and Lou teased me that I had to hold out for another hour or this baby was going to come on my birthday (which he knew I really didn't want - I wanted the baby to have his/her own day).  I jokingly told him "No way - I'll hold it in".

Things started to get intense at that point.  The contractions were getting really bad - more intense, and longer and longer, and the back labor started (why do I have to have back labor with EVERY baby?!!).  Lou was an amazing coach, as always.  He knew just what to do.  He straddled the bed behind me and did counter pressure on my back during the contractions to help with the terrible back pain.  He kept quiet and let me concentrate on dealing with the pain.  He let me squeeze his hand as hard as I could when the contractions came, and used his other hand to keep the counter pressure up.  He told me later that both of his hands were aching and going numb by the end, but he knew that he couldn't "wuss out on his wife".  They checked me at 11:30pm, and I figured I had to be at 7 or 8 cm.  The pain was so bad I felt sure that I was in transition.  I could have cried when the doctor said "5cm, 90% effaced".

I kept on trucking, and we moved to the rocking chair.  I kept breathing and squeezing Lou's hand, while the contractions rose to a fever pitch - the worst that I have felt out of any of my labors.  My eyes were closed at this point (I did not open them again until after the baby was born), but Lou was watching the clock and said that my contractions were lasting 3 minutes, and that they were coming 30 seconds after they ended.  3 minutes?!  What the heck?!  Aren't they supposed to only be 60-90 seconds?!  I could hear the pity in Lou's voice as he said "My gosh, baby, these are lasting so long, and you're not even getting a break between them".  He only said it once - he knows I don't like a lot of talking during labor.  He just sat there being what I needed at the time - a rock to lean on.   

The pain was terrible.  Seriously - the worst I have EVER had with any baby.  Lou had to keep wiping off my face because it was dripping with sweat after every contraction.  I was shaking all over so badly from trying to deal with the pain, and whimpering during some contractions as I tried to breath through them.  I have never before prayed during labor, but I did with this one.  I just kept saying in my head "Heavenly Father, please help me do this, please help me do this - I know I can do this - please help me..."  And I remember distinctly thinking at one moment "See, THIS is why people get epidurals - maybe those women are onto something..." 

I was so relieved when I started to feel that tell-tale pressure down there, because I knew that meant that we were almost done.  I told Lou that it was time to start pushing.  

I tried to get up and walk to the bed, but I couldn't move from all the pain.  Lou shimmied me over to the bed and lifted me onto it.  The doctor came in and checked me - 10cm, 100% effaced and the baby at a +2 station - it was time!  It was 12:45am - no shared birthday for this baby!

I pushed for about 10 minutes - a personal record for me!  Our baby was out in about 3 contractions, and despite what people kept telling me about having a 4th baby ("It will come flying out!", "It will be like nothing!"), I had to work for every inch of that baby, just like I always do.

Lou announced "It's another boy!", with that same soft, excited voice that I heard when Edward was born.  And I smiled.  I knew it.  I had felt it all along, but never said it out loud because I was afraid that maybe I was wrong and would feel silly afterward.  They placed the baby on my chest and I just kept saying "My baby, oh, my baby, my sweet baby" - partially out of excitement to be holding my little one, and partially just so relieved that the hardest part was over - I was done.  I did it.  Again.  For the FOURTH time.  I was so proud of myself, and so happy to meet our newest baby. 

I love that time right after you have a baby.  I've never run a marathon, but I imagine that it must be something like having a baby - you prepare and anticipate the event for months, it lasts hours and hours.  You work your butt off.  It's grueling, you have to work through some pain, and your body is pushed to the limits.  But then you finish and oh, the feeling of finishing!!  You are exhausted, but the thing is - you DID it.  And you are so proud of yourself, and then you get to just sit back, relax, and bask in your moment.  But the difference is, at the end of a marathon - what do you get?  A cup of water?  Way cooler to get this tiny person placed in your arms, this tiny person that you made.  You look into their eyes and think "I know you.  I've known you for months now.  I've loved you and cared for you.  And you know me.  I'm your mama, and I love you."  And in that moment, none of the pain matters - it was all worth it.  You fall in love all over again, and the rest of the world melts away...

Here's to babies and falling in love all over again. :)