Our little Logan turned THREE on Tuesday! I love the photo above, because it captures his personality: fun, energetic, and happy. Logan's hobbies include throwing food on the floor when he's done with a meal, alternately playing and fighting with big brother Conner, and snuggling his elephant lovey-blanket, Ella. (Even though the blanket is named "Ella," we can't figure out if it's a girl or a boy. Logan only uses masculine pronouns when speaking in the third person.) He would tell you that he loves eating "mine" fruit snacks and juice. He's got a great vocabulary and says the funniest things. Yesterday, for example, he told me that I should put "Feeder" (Theodore) back in my tummy for a long, long time. When I asked him why, he said, "He will like it. So, do it!"

Logan's third birthday was on a particularly brutal winter day... It had rained the previous day, and then the temperature had dropped to below freezing, so the roads were coated with a thick layer of ice. Classical Conversations was cancelled, so we could have (and probably should have) enjoyed a relaxing day off, but we pressed on with school anyway, because 1) A-type personality and 2) we wanted to save our "off" day for Friday. Logan opened his gifts from the family in the morning, chose peanut butter sandwiches for lunch, and had a fun dinner at Chuck E. Cheese's. Logan had so much fun scarfing pizza and playing games, Dan had to carry him out slung over his shoulder, kicking and protesting. We zipped back home to meet family for cake (a brightly-colored and heavily frosted caterpillar cake from Costco), ice cream, and more gifts. It was as nice a day as a three-year-old could ask for.

Okay, confession time. Even though Logan might arguably have the most entertaining birth story, I have written down all of my children's birth stories except Logan's. Well, that's not exactly the case. I did write Logan's birth story within a week or two of his birth, but in the sleep-deprived fog that accompanies having a newborn, I. DIDN'T. SAVE. IT. And I didn't realize that I didn't save it until over a year later when I was looking for it. If you can picture Lucille Ball doing her famous "Waaaaaaahhh!", that's pretty much what I looked like when I realized it was gone, in spite of all my efforts to recover it. It was not fresh in my brain anymore, but I did attempt to rewrite and never quite got around to completing it... yet.

So, my precious Logan James, this is one of my birthday gifts to you. I will finish writing your birth story. Because your birth was awesome, and you totally deserve it. [cracks knuckles and types determinedly]

{logan's birth story}

This story has the potential to make me look like a total airhead, which, admittedly, I kind of was. HOWEVER. In my defense, a couple weeks prior to going into labor, I had felt a lot of contraction-like activity and had gone into the hospital, only to find out it was a false alarm. Not only was this experience deflating, but it was also a little embarrassing, so I promised myself that the next time I headed in, I was going to be absolutely sure that I was in labor. Also, as you will later find out, because of the positioning of my bag of waters, the pain of the contractions did not accurately convey how far into labor I actually was.

 Before Logan’s birth, my last appointment with Dr. K. was Thursday, January 16, 2014 at 8:30 am. It was a 10-minute appointment.

Even though the baby’s due date wasn’t until January 31 (six days after my second child's, Conner’s, birthday), Dan and I thought it would be a good idea to move up Conner’s birthday party to Thursday, January 16. Conner had been born two weeks early, so this baby might also make an early debut. And Chuck E. Cheese’s was pretty much the last place I wanted to bring a newborn. (It’s a good thing we did too, because if we waited even one day longer, Conner’s party would have been cancelled or overshadowed by his little brother’s arrival!)

On Friday, January 17, my mom came over in the afternoon to watch Shane and Conner, while I had my hair highlighted and trimmed. After my hair appointment, I headed home, looking forward to a fun evening with my dear friend Theresa. We were going to get pedicures and then have dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. (I had been in appointment-mode those last couple of weeks. I knew I wasn’t going to have time to take care of myself for a long while!)

Sometime around 4:00 pm, I started to feel some contractions. The baby was only 38 weeks along, and the contractions were light and spaced far enough for me to be unsure whether they were the false Braxton Hicks kind or the real thing. I sent Theresa a text letting her know that I might have started contracting, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to cancel our plans to later discover that the contractions had stopped. We arrived for our appointments, settled into those big chairs, dropped our feet into the hot bubbly water, and pressed the buttons on our armrests to begin the mechanical massages. Sometime during the process of having my toes painted a lovely shade of hot pink, I figured out that the contractions were the real deal. Theresa encouraged me to start timing them, so I created a note on my phone. Every time a contraction started, I took note of the start time:

5:04

5:31

6:27

6:39

6:48

6:55

Perhaps the birth-preparation hormones made me temporarily insane, but, after our appointment, I decided that I still wanted to go out for dinner. After all, I reasoned, I couldn't be that far along (the contractions really weren't that painful), and I would need my strength to deliver the baby. (They don't give you anything except clear fluids like broth and Jello-O once you check-in at the hospital.) We could just tell the wait staff that we were in a hurry, and we could eat really quickly. Yup, temporary insanity had its grip on me! I should mention that I was in constant contact with Dan, who was strongly encouraging me to come home. Which would also have been a wise idea since I still hadn't packed my hospital bag. "Oh, I’m still fine," I assured him. At about 7:00 pm, before going into the restaurant, I called my mom and dad. I told them that I might be in labor and they should stay close to the phone. (Have I mentioned the temporary insanity?)

7:11

7:21

7:25

7:30

7:33

I should have known that our plan was doomed to fail when it took a very long time to be served glasses of water. After several minutes, we placed our orders and told them we were in a hurry. In the meantime, I went into the restaurant’s bathroom and made a phone call to Dr. K.’s emergency number to see if I should go to the hospital. Yes, yes, I should. At about 7:30, I called my parents a second time and asked them to come to our house to watch Shane and Conner. While I was in the bathroom, I recall chatting with a nice woman in there about how I was in labor, and she told me about her children. You know, it was obviously the time for casual chit-chat with strangers. 🙂 When I returned to the table, our food had arrived, but I told Theresa I needed to head out now. The waiter packed it up to go for us, and the fellow restaurant patrons were so sweet. They were very congratulatory and a few even offered to pay for our meals!

8:01

8:04

8:12

When Theresa and I arrived at the house, I discovered that my parents had beaten me there. Temporary insanity must be contagious, because Dan was bustling around putting sheets on the air mattress for my mom and working to make things comfortable for her.

“Umm, don’t you think it would be a better idea to pack the hospital bag?” I asked. (I can be unreasonable when I'm in labor. That's the only time though. ;-))

He shot me a don’t-get-judgmental-at-me kind of look, and I knew he was right. I was the one who kept procrastinating on packing my hospital bag and then chose to have my toes done AND attempt a dinner out when I was in labor. I clamped my mouth shut and finished packing the bag that Dan had started for me.

Dan and I pulled out of the driveway at approximately 8:15 pm. It was a tense drive to the hospital. He was nervous that he would have to deliver his third son at the side of the road, and I was in pain from the contractions and mentally kicking myself for not going to the hospital sooner. At one point, Dan even laid on the horn and ran a red light! When we stepped into the hospital, he was noticeably more relaxed.

“There!” he said, smiling. “We made it!”

I did not feel the same sense of relief.

We checked into the Birthing Center and were shown to room 343. The nurse performed her initial evaluation, and I knew I was in trouble when I saw her eyes widen. I was already dilated between 7 and 8 centimeters. (Remember, 10 centimeters is when the doctor tells you to push!)

The nurse moved at a fast pace, and she called for additional assistance."We will work as quickly as we can,” the nurse said calmly, "but there’s a chance you might not get your epidural.

My mind froze with panic. Not. Get. My. Epidural. I burst into tears. (I had had a natural childbirth with Conner--without pain relief of any kind--and didn't feel the need to do it again.) Dan comforted me, as the nurses quickly and efficiently hooked me up to machines and inserted the IV. Before I could get the epidural, I needed to have a bag of IV fluid pumped into me, and that would take about 45 minutes. I braced myself for a very long 45 minutes. (In hindsight, if I could have a do-over starting from this point, I would actually forego the epidural since I was already 4/5 of the way done with labor. But you know what they say about hindsight.)

Dr. K. arrived, and I instantly felt heartened by his calm and cheerful bedside manner. I showed him how cute my toes looked, and he laughed and explained to me that I hadn't felt much pain with the contractions because of where my bag of waters had been located. Oh! Well, at least there was a reason. When the required amount of IV fluid had been administered, I was still waiting on the anesthesiologist. We waited, and waited, and waited. Even Dr. K. seemed to be annoyed by how long the anesthesiologist was taking. (At that time, the hospital did not have an anesthesiologist in the building at all times like it currently does, so this gentleman probably had to come in from home.) Finally, finally, the anesthesiologist arrived. Never a fan of needles, Dan was led out to the hallway by Dr. K., and they did laps and chatted while the anesthesiologist inserted the epidural at 9:50 PM. My teeth were chattering like crazy! I don't know if this was due to labor, the epidural, or just the general fact that I was f-f-freezing!

When the epidural had taken effect, I was measuring at 10 cm (I had probably been there for a while, actually), and it was time to deliver a baby! On Friday, January 17, 2014, Logan James was born at 10:12 PM after only three pushes, and we were delighted that he was our first baby not to be whisked away for immediate medical attention. (Shane had to be suctioned out and checked to make sure he hadn't swallowed any meconium, and Conner had arrived with the umbilical cord wound tightly around his neck.) I was able to snuggle Logan on my chest right away, and he immediately began rooting for milk. Logan's temperature was a little low (I, myself, was still feeling very cold!), so he did have to be taken to a warming bed for a while. (Note to new mamas: If you are cold, don't be too shy to ask for a warm blanket... or three. Once I was comfortably warm, Logan's temperature normalized when he snuggled on my chest.) He weighed in at 7 pounds, 4 ounces and measured 20 inches long. Afterward, Dr. K. told us that Logan's birth was one of the most beautiful births he had ever seen, and Dr. K.'s delivered more than 10,000 babies, so that's saying something!

This was our third baby-rodeo, so even though we were blown away by how tiny our Logan seemed, we were pretty comfortable with our little guy and wanted to go home to be more comfortable. As we had done for Conner, we requested an early release from the hospital. Shortly after coming home, I went in search of my tacos from the Mexican restaurant. When I couldn't find them, I texted Theresa to see if she knew what had become of them. She informed me that my parents had eaten them. Nooooooooo!!! Luckily, I had a very sweet little baby to distract me from the unexpected loss of my meal.

Especially when I'm looking at these pictures, it's hard to believe that three years have passed since our little Logan was born. They have been a busy three years, to be sure, but so, so full of blessings, and we are looking forward to seeing what God has in store for our third sweet son.

Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Psalm 127:3