Baby #2

As with the announcement of any pregnancy, life begins to change even prior to the child's birth.  It was the same for me.  One day it just hit me that in a little less than nine months I would have yet another child.  What really bothered me about that was that Zahara only had a little less than nine months of one-on-one time with just me and her dad.  After much thought and consideration, I decided to take a break from college and instead use those two days a week to be home with Zahara. I still continued to work three days a week, but those other days were used to clean my house and just be a mom to my little girl.  It was the best decision I've ever made.

The pregnancy with Ro progressed wonderfully.  I was sicker than a dog and somewhat scared of the impending birth.  The first time around I was up for anything.  This time, I knew what I was in for and it freaked me out a bit.  I was a pain in the rear end to my OB and had been dilated 4 cm for two weeks at that point.  Finally she told me that if I came to the hospital with regular contractions and IF I had made progress, she would break my water.  Dude, I left that appointment, went home and started cleaning.  I slept that night, woke up the next morning and I have never walked so much in my entire life.  I remember Paul calling me from work at about three and I was walking Zahara around the block in the stroller.  He proceeded to chide me with stories of "giving birth on the sidewalk" to which I answered something reminiscent of "I have worked to darn hard to have these contractions stop now..."  There may have been some stronger language involved, but I don't remember for sure.

Fast forward and after a great and "easy" birth, Roman Michael was born and we were all doing great.  It was eleven o'clock at night when we had our first visitors and I charged my in-laws, aka the grandparents an admission fee of a slice of pizza to see their new grandson.  I was starving.  

*****

more tomorrow...

no, really, I promise.

and pictures!