Put my three year old to bed for the last time. Tomorrow she will be four!
Four years ago right now I was laying in bed. Rich had just gotten off the phone with the midwife, explaining how miserable I was and they had agreed to induce two days later, assuming at my appointment the next day everything looked good. I was feeling a huge mix of emotions, relief that the weeks of painful contractions were coming to an end, sorrow that I was not going to go into labor naturally and for the first time have the "it's time" experience, and also many mixed feelings about being induced on my birthday, as I had not wanted to share my birthday. I think I was mostly feeling relief, though.
Then it happened. I had a really strong contraction, and when it ended, Rich and I looked at each other, and without a word we both got out of bed and started getting ready to go to the hospital.
My labor was miserable, nobody at the hospital would take me seriously despite this being baby number four and knowing my body well. I spent basically my entire labor in triage, was forced to walk through transition (or go home), and finally got my own room just in time to push.
At 5:23AM the next morning, a chubby 8lbs 10oz baby came into the world screaming. She was perfect. She was exactly what I did not know I needed in my life.
Ruth Ann, you are a brat. You refuse to go to bed on a nightly basis, you rarely follow my directions, and you constantly swipe my coffee.
You are also a constant source of laughter. You're a clown at heart, and you just love being silly. You bring immeasurable joy to those that you open up to.
You truly are exactly what we needed. God has already used you in such amazing ways in four short years. I greatly anticipate witnessing what He continues to do in and through your life as you grow.
I love you more than words can say, my little Rue-Rue Bean.
