Kamea Jenise's Birthstory

I admit it, I practically wrote a novel with this one at almost 6000 words.  Part of it's length is due to back story, and not the labor and delivery itself.  For me it's been fun to go back and read it in it's entirety.  Part of it makes me nod my head sagely in agreement, and part of me thinks, "What a drama queen!" Either way, I want my little Kami to know how much her presense and arrival affected me, and how much love and tenderness surrounded me during that time. I love you Kami!


“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”  The perfect quote for my birth story.  Once again.  Remember the last two children?  Little Dylan, my 5th baby, who was due to be born on 05-05-05.  I even had an induction date set so I could nab that most awesome date, and the little stinker came 5 days early.  Giving me yet another April baby by a mere 90 minutes.  Or little Reese.  Finally someone who would not only break the April-February pattern I’ve thus far established, but give me a birthday-month buddy, if only I could hang on an extra 5 days. Who knows, maybe I’d even get lucky and have a 4th of July baby OR the best number ever, 07-07-07. And why shouldn’t I?  I was overdue with Alisa by a week. So why should it surprise me that she came a week early, born in June, picking her own date, upsetting any sort of pattern I had hopes for, and missing a summer birth date by a mere day? 

 
     And then along comes Little Foede.  Our wonderful surprise baby.  I thought I’d be due in early August, but ultrasound showed that I was due July 23.  Great! A birthday month baby for me. And since the last two have come early, I started thinking up dates that would be acceptable to my number and pattern-loving brain.  Anything ending in a 5 or a 0.  But not my birthday, because I know some children wish for their own.  So 7-15, 7-20, 7-25, and, 7-30 would be fine too.  And hey, wouldn’t 7-17-10 make a great day?  7-14 would be okay, because 14 is double 7.  Or 7-16, because that would make a nice golden/sweet sixteen.  Then I found out in the spring that I needed the baby to come before 7-19, because that is when I send Zach off to Scout camp.  And darn it, I’ve never had a baby where all the siblings didn’t come walking into the hospital room and I proudly present their beautiful new sister and brother to them, and watch with love and tears as they welcome her to the family.  So yes, this baby definitely has to come before the 19th.  Which shouldn’t be a problem because HEY, my last two have come almost a week before their due date, so I can make these plans and depend on them.  A nice, fast, spontaneous, natural labor. Right?  

     Not so fast!  I’ve been a nervous Nelly since the beginning of this pregnancy.  My sisters started having miscarriages more often at this age.  I am now termed “Advanced Maternal Age” by the medical industry.  I have a circumvallate placenta that could cause intra-uterine growth restriction or cause the placenta to pull away too soon. Friends and family have asked these 9 months if I am excited yet, and I hedge each time.  I’m not excited, I’m worried.  Seeing a healthy baby will be believing.  My plan was to have an all-natural birth.  But throughout this pregnancy I kept having feelings of ‘get there early, and get the epidural.”  Which I had to laugh at.  My body doesn’t do “early.”  I get my bloody show, hours later I start to dilate and two hours later I’m holding the baby. 

     On Friday the 9th I had my 38-week appointment.  We talk about the size of this baby.  My midwife, Susan, tends to think it will be larger than Zach was, and that evacuating it sooner rather than later would be better.  She wanted to do a cervical check to see where I am at.  I laughed at the suggestion because yes, once again “with the last three I have been closed up tight until labor begins, and baby is floating high.”   At some point I will learn that my problem was counting on this one being like the last couple, instead of remembering each pregnancy, labor, and delivery are unique to each other.  But hindsight is in fact, 20/20.  So imagine my surprise when I am actually at 2cm’s and a –2 station.  Baby is low, but not LOW.   We strip my membranes, and she tells me I can expect bleeding the rest of the day, and some mucus.  But I actually have none.  Until the next morning when I feel like I am giving birth to chunky cherry and pineapple Jell-O that is.  Ah, mucus plug and show.  Great, but sooner than I had hoped for.  The next day is the 10th, my birthday, and I want to get past the weekend.  Thank goodness (?!?)  that lasts for 2 days, and then all clears up.  It’s enough of a sign that my body is doing something that I spend the week thinking that I can for sure go before Zach leaves now!   

     My next appointment is on Friday the 16th.  On Thursday night, the 15th I begin having bloody show on my own, and some very light contractions every 5 minutes for the rest of the night.  They were barely noticeable, but still I was excited. Yay, the baby is going to come before Zach goes.  So what do I do? Why, shave my legs of course.  And report on Facebook how I’m coming along.  Get my bags packed (and I by that I mean deodorant, toothbrush, and paste, the LAST things to go. Everything else has been packed for a while because I was packing my bags whilst in labor with Reese and didn’t want to get caught like that again) go and watch Reese sleep, and give Dylan an extra kiss goodnight.  Then I try to sleep, but it doesn’t work very well. Even Tylenol PM and my Hypnobirthing podcast don’t do the trick. I tossed and turned all night.  

     The next morning I still have show and contractions and just know I am going to get to the MW and she’ll say “Oh, you are a 4 and contracting, let’s just check you in!”  But no, I am close to a 3, the show means nothing and my contractions have fizzled out a bit. But baby is a lot lower.  We try to see if I can just check in and start an induction, as she knows how badly I want the baby out before Zach leaves, but the hospital is low on staff so we set it for Tuesday.  I want to scream, “But my son won’t be there!” but of course I nicely smile, tell her that will be fine, and think “I’ll be in before then anyway.  There’s no reason God doesn’t want this to happen without my children around. And why else would I be bleeding and contracting if things aren’t going to start soon?”  Throughout the day and evening, bloody show and contractions continue.  Back aches, cramps.  I was still convinced that the next day will be it.  Especially since my feelings of something being wrong scream at me “don’t go into labor at night, get there early and get the epidural” over and over.  

     That evening I took a bath and did a self-cervical check and my cervix has moved forward and thinned out.  A huge glob of show has also appeared.   Yay!  Not only Zach will be here, but I’ll get 7-17-10 for a date..  I told Mark “I will be shocked if I don’t go into labor!”  Feeling good, I go to sleep.  For 9 hours.  The entire family wakes up at 9:00.  I wake up to no show, no contractions, the baby is even floating higher again. Even the pitting edema that has plagued my feet, ankles, and calves is gone.  I get in the bath because I am really sad at this point, and I feel alone and safe to express myself.  So I have myself a good cry.  Not because I am still pregnant, I really don’t mind being pregnant.  But because I don’t want Zach to miss this.  And I am tired of the “Are you still here?” questions coming over the phone or on Facebook, or the constant “anything happening?” from Mark and Zach.  Mad that I feel like my body has betrayed me, and not understanding what plans God could possibly have by just letting me have my baby on my terms, in my own way, and before Zach has to leave.  My sister reminds me the day isn’t over, so I go take a mile walk.  Nothing.  I decided to go lie in bed and watch “The Business of Being Born.” And of course become a crying wreck as I watch babies being born whilst mine sits inside of me, cozy as can be.  And the day lags on.  My show picks up a little, contractions here and there.  All right, forget the 17th.  I can still have this baby on the 18th and Zach will be here.  It’s the last day for that, but I can do it.  And before bedtime, I do start having harder contractions more consistently.  I tell myself with a smile, tomorrow can be the day. And I go to sleep.   

     I woke up feeling perfectly normal.  Uncomfortable sitting and standing for long periods.  It’s for that reason that I decide to not go to church.  Well, that and all the “why are you here” comments that I want to avoid.  Because I’m sorry I’ve had bloody show for 4 days now. I’m sorry my contractions are doing nothing.  I’m sorry that it’s still 5 days before my due date and that’s not soon enough.  Normally comments wouldn’t bother me, as I don’t mind being overdue.  But with Zach leaving in 15 hours, I’m a little sensitive and the last thing I need is to be crying at church like a big baby. In reality I know the questions are happening because people are excited for me and care for me, because they know the signs I’ve had thus far and what they mean.  Because they know how much I wanted my entire family to experience this with me.  But it doesn’t help how I am feeling right now.  A grandiose failure.  And in the back of my head, still is screaming “Something isn’t right.  For some reason you need to do this by being induced.  Get there early, and get the epidural.”  I spend my day praying that it’s just a normal fear, not some type of premonition or revelation from on high.  I receive a blessing from Mark that tells me the baby will be beautiful and healthy, and that I will find joy in the process.  I think of ways to let Zach know about the baby.  I just can’t announce it until he knows.  Can I call him on a cell phone for the last minutes of pushing?  Send him a picture through the phone? At least leave a message?  These are my back-up thoughts, because I don’t want to spend the next two days lamenting the fact that Zach isn’t here, won’t meet the baby until he/she is 4 days old, being irritable and irrational with my other children, and not finding joy in the journey.  

     Look at that, my “birth story” is a page and a half, and I haven’t even given birth yet!  I imagine the rest will be very short. As in “I showed up at the hospital at 7:30 AM.  I was on pitocin by 8:00.  I was at 5 cm’s by 9:00 and got the epidural.  By 12:00 I was ready to push.  I pushed a large, but not gigantic baby out within 10 minutes.  Zach was able to listen in the last 5 minutes.  The kids were brought by grandma to come see the baby directly.  All went perfectly and the last week was worth every second of misery I felt.”  A girl can dream, right? For now I have about 44 hours to either not drive myself insane wondering if labor will begin on its own or not drive myself insane from the boredom of waiting.  

     I spent the next 2 days relaxing and enjoying the ride.  My fate had been decided, so why fight it or allow it to get to me?  I remember with Reese being so upset with the fact that I didn’t make it to July that I didn’t enjoy the process.  And I kept thinking about Mark’s blessing for me.  That I would enjoy the process.  So I looked in the mirror a lot.  I rubbed my tummy a lot.  I spoke to the baby, and sang to it.  I sat and closed my eyes and just experienced it.  Monday night was bittersweet, as often is to Mom’s about to give birth.  How to we reconcile “I can’t roll over in my sleep” with “I am going to desperately miss having you all to myself, in me, a part of me.” I stayed up late Monday, because I couldn’t sleep.  Once I did get to sleep, it was fitful.  But finally the alarm went off, and I crawled out of bed and took my bath.  Making sure, of course, that my legs were shaved properly!  I said a few prayers in the bath, spoke to my baby, watched as it kicked and hiccuped within me.  Smiled a lot.  I was very nervous, and yet excited at the same time.  This was it!  I went and awoke Gabby, who would watch the kids until Dave Soberg could get there.  He would wait with them until I was getting close and thing bring them to the hospital in time to see the first bath.  I gave Gabby a big hug, grabbed my bags, and we were off!

I stayed up late Monday, because I couldn’t sleep.  Once I did get to sleep, it was fitful.  But finally the alarm went off, and I crawled out of bed and took my bath.  Making sure, of course, that my legs were shaved properly!  I said a few prayers in the bath, spoke to my baby, watched as it kicked and hiccuped within me.  Smiled a lot.  I was very nervous, and yet excited at the same time.  This was it!  I went and woke Gabby, who would watch the kids until Dave, my brother-in-law could get there.  He would wait with them until I was getting close and then bring them to the hospital in time to see the first bath.  I gave Gabby a big hug, grabbed my bags, and we were off!

 
     We got to the hospital right on time, 7:30.  I entered through the emergency entrance as instructed, and was checked in, signed some papers, and walked up to Labor and Delivery.  My nurse, Mary, was waiting for me.  She walked us to our room where I changed into a gown and was hooked up to the non-stress test machine, which monitors the baby’s heart rate so that we could make sure it accelerates during movement.  During this time, I was also asked a lot of questions, and got to know Mary better.  The machine also shows if you are contracting, and I only was very slightly, and only once in a while.  Mary let me know that Susan, my midwife was already here because she’d been with a laboring woman all night, and would be in shortly to check me.  Mary wasn’t sure if I would be put on pitocin or just have my water broken.  Susan came in at 9:00 and said that the other Mom was ready to deliver, so she quickly checked me and I was still 3cm’s.  She said to go ahead with the pitocin and monitoring.  So at 9:15, almost 2 hours after I got here and much longer than I thought it would take, I got an IV, my saline, and at 9:30, the pitocin.  My sister Terrie and my Mom had arrived by that time and Terrie asked what number I’d be started out at.  Mary told us they have to start at a 1 and go up slowly.  Never having been induced before, I didn’t know what that meant, but I soon learned that I would sit at a 3 for a LONG time waiting for the dosage to affect me.  40 minutes after the dosage was at a 1, it went up to a 3 (they could only up it every 3-40 minutes.)  Finally I could start to feel some contractions, but I was getting bored laying in bed and really wanted to walk the halls.  Mary found a portable monitor for me, so I was allowed to get up and walk.  That didn’t last long however because the monitor needed to be really low on my belly to pick up the baby’s heartbeat and it kept slipping if I walked.  So back to the room I headed.  And once there, I noticed that the contractions had fizzled out anyway.  So Mary kicked my dosage up to a 5.  They got a bit stronger, but I could talk and joke easily through them. In fact, having my sister, Mom, and Mary was wonderful because the entire time was filled with laughter and jokes.  It was so special to me.  Terrie asked Mary what her bet was when I’d deliver, and everyone guessed by 2:00. We had guessed 12:00 earlier, but that was before we knew how little I'd react to the pitocin! It was only an hour until noon and I wasn't even contracting painfully or regularly.  

     At about 11:15 Susan came back in to let us know that the other mom needed to have a c-section.  I felt really bad for her.  She labored all night, pushed for 2 hours, and then needed a c-section.  She checked me again and I was STILL a 3!  I had effaced a bit more, and the cervix had moved more anterior (meaning I didn't have to prop my hips up so she could reach anymore) so it wasn’t a complete loss, but nevertheless daunting because I'd been there since 7:30, been on pit for 2 hours, and hadn't dilated at all! 

     So she told me my options.  I could keep going and up the pitocin every 40 minutes and see what happens, or she could break my bag of waters and hope that speeds things up.  I asked if the baby was low enough that it wasn’t in danger of cord prolapse and she assured me it was.  My sister reminded me that once it was broken I was committed, and I assured her I was okay with that.  So at 11:30 I had my bag of waters broken.  It took a few tries though.  Susan said something about the bag being made of Teflon. After several tries I could feel the warm gush and said, “Oh, was that it?” and she told me it was.  And then it kept coming, and coming, and coming some more!  I’m used to my water breaking at 8-9 cm’s on its own with the baby's head at a lower station, plus I’d been retaining water so badly that I shouldn’t have been surprised.  While her hand was in there with the hook, she said “And now you are a 4.” 

     Susan then told me that now that the cushion was gone and the head was against the cervix, it would probably be a good idea to get the call into the anesthesiologist for an epidural since they don’t come right away. They all seemed to think I'd go fast at this point.  I was more skeptical, despite previous fast labors, due to how things had gone so far. And that she’d go sit with the c-section mom while I had the epidural placed. I agreed, and she got me the permission form, which I signed.  I admit it felt weird though, because the other time I had one I was begging for the darn thing in pain, and here I was pain free! She then suggested that I use the bathroom so that I wouldn’t need a catheter.  So I got up out of bed and gushed water the whole way there.  It was warm and running down my legs, and I noticed a lot of mucus on the towel and bed pad that had been below me.  I used the bathroom, gushed the whole way back, got on the bed and just chatted with my Mom and Terrie and Mark, who was probably bored because I really didn’t need the support yet.  So he updated Facebook for me and listened to my jokes with a smile.    

     The anesthesiologist came in and went over the procedure with me.  Her name was Pat, but I jokingly told her I was going to call her Bob in honor of my first “epidural man”.  She laughed and said she’d probably answer to it, too.   

     Pat went into the hall to get all the stuff she’d need, and I used the bathroom one more time.  When I stood I finally had a contraction that was good and strong and I needed to breathe through.  Mark came over and rubbed my back, but even it wasn't that bad. I think that my Hypnobirthing CD really helped, because it was easy to relax, focus, breath, and get through it without complaining or worrying about the next one.  They were lasting about 90 seconds, but only coming every 5 minutes.  When I came out of the bathroom, everything was ready for me.  I sat on the edge of the bed and Pat was about to start when I requested that she waited until I got through the contraction, as I couldn’t curl my spine up properly.  When the contraction was over I told her not to call it a bee sting, as I have a bee phobia.  She laughed and said “What about wasps?” and I told her I’d prefer nothing from the hymanoptera family.   We all got a laugh out of that too, and decided to call it a mosquito bite.  In reality it wasn’t that bad.  The worse part is the catheter going in, which feels like a severe funny bone hit.  But it all got put in, and she “tested” me for 20 minutes.  Which meant after 20 minutes she checked to see if I could feel my feet, my legs, or lift them, to see how the epidural was working for ME, since each one tends to behave differently for each laboring mother.  I was feeling the affects on my left side more.  I’d only had about 2 more contractions that I needed to breathe through, and then they immediately got better. Apparently I passed the test!  Pat stayed for a while observing me through contractions. We passed the time listening to her talk about the history of drug relief in labor.  My mom was curious, as she'd had 10 natural labors. 

     Susan came back from the c-section at about 12:30.  She asked me how I was doing, and I said fine.  I told her my biggest worry at that point was that the epidural was working now, while I was a 4, but that I was afraid it wouldn’t work at a 9-10 or for pushing.  She told me that the pain involves the receptors, and is not relative to transition.  The amount of relief I was feeling then was the same I’d feel for the rest of my contractions.  She did say that the receptors for pushing are different, so many women say, “My epidural isn’t working! Get me more!” when really it usually means that the baby is ready to come out and they were just feeling pressure.  The very second she said this, my contractions were still far apart, but the feeling changed. All of a sudden I could feel them again in my back and in my cervix. The uterus tightening pain was gone though. I'd still only maybe 5 I could feel and another 5 the epidural hid from me. So I automatically worried, despite what Susan just told me, that I was feeling the pain again.  So Susan checked me and said “You’re a 6.”  Mary asked her if she should get the bassinet and oxygen going and she said, “Yes.”  And I had to laugh because I was only a 6.  I asked Terrie to call David so that he could bring the kids to the hospital just in case, which she did.  

    ONE contraction later I told her I was feeling more pressure and so Susan checked me again and said, “You are an 8-9 and a +1 station.”  This one had me a bit stunned.  I went up almost 3 cm’s in ONE contraction?  My mom thought it was funny, having delivered 10 children naturally, that here I was at 9 cm’s, about to push out a baby, and completely comfortable, laughing, smiling, making jokes.  One more contraction and Susan said, “Yep, you’re complete, time to push.”   

     Wait a second, I’d just had the epidural 30 minutes earlier, and was only a 4 and completely comfortable. Susan said "I know you told me during our appointments that you usually go from 0-10 in 2 hours, but seeing is believing!" But even I was amazed to have gone from 4-10 in 30 minutes! How could I possibly be ready to push, especially since just as Susan said, the pressure was getting uncomfortable.  

     There was no breaking down of the bed.  Instead Susan just had me drop my knees to the side as she sat beside me.  She asked me to give a push, and I got nervous because I could feel it, and it didn’t feel good.  My old fears of pushing came right back to me, and Susan told me not to be fearful, that even if I felt pain or pressure it would not be as severe as my drug-free babies.  She then asked me to give another push, and stupidly I pushed the epidural bulster button for more pain relief.  Everyone started laughing and she said “Uh no, I meant give the baby a push!”  I did smile at that, and gave a good push.  And heard the words “Oh my, it has a lot of long hair!”   

     Getting into the swing of things was hard.  I could feel the pain, but I could also tell that some of my pushes were not effective.  I pushed through 3 contractions, but the first two I was really just whiny about. My sister heard me and said "think of the baby, Jen." So with the third one I told myself “Ok girl, get the chin to your chest and put some effort into it!”  So I curled up and did some serious work.  It hurt.  The pressure was bad.  But I was okay.  I was doing it.  I wasn’t miserable, I was just afraid.  I even told myself in the middle “I could do this again.”  And then Susan said “OK, I am worried about your old episiotomy scar.  Shall I cut or just see what happens?”  I told her to just see, and then pushed the head out with a strong push.  I couldn’t see over my belly, so I asked, “Is the head out?”  but only had to look at the tears in Mark’s eyes, my sister smiling, and see my Mom crying to know that yes, the baby’s head was out.  Susan asked me to wait a bit, but the pressure was so horrible.  But I did wait, let her suction and then she said one more push.  I just wanted them to take the baby out of me, and stated so, but gave a slight push and Susan said, “Here she is!  Look at your baby, Jen! It’s a girl!” And suddenly this beautiful, sweet creature was placed on my stomach.  The pressure was gone.  The baby was here.   

     I burst out crying.  I rubbed her, and hugged her to me, and looked at my family surrounding me and felt so grateful, and felt the joy that Mark prayed for me to feel.  It was such a beautiful moment in my life.  The baby was pretty purple for half a minute, and was just about to have oxygen put on when she pinked up and started crying on her own.  What a sweet, blessed sound for a mommy to hear.  Mark cut the cord, and then the nurses took the baby to the bassinet while Susan delivered the placenta.  It came out really easy.  Terrie took a picture, and then Susan showed the circumvallate ridge on it to us. A nurse came in and told me the kids were here, and we decided they could wait a couple of minutes for me to be checked and covered.  Susan told me that I didn’t tear after all, but had some cracks and wouldn’t need stitches.  She told me it might hurt when I urinate, but that’s about it.  I had told her that I clot a lot, so she checked me “while you are still numb” and actually cleaned out a lot of the clots for me.

     The baby was weighed in at 8’12.9 (the third baby in a row with an 8’12 weight!!) and was 22.5 inches (longer than even Zach was!) with a 14.5” head (no wonder I almost tore and could feel it all!)  I got covered up, and Mark went to get the kids.  Reese of course picked that time to need the potty, so I had to wait a little longer.  And then the time came.  Mark had the video ready, but as I saw them I started crying all over again.  My beautiful kids coming to meet their new sister!  I told them to come over and check to see if it was a boy or a girl.  They uncovered her and opened up her diaper, took one look at the umbilical cord and said “It’s a boy!”  Gabby said, “No, that’s a girl.”  Dylan gave a seriously grumpy face and said, “I wanted it to be a boy!” And he refused to hold her due to the vernix on her skin.  We told him that it was like a lotion that you could rub in and make the skin so soft. (And seriously, I wish they could market the stuff!)  I told him he had such soft skin because he had it too!  He must have taken it to heart, because when the pediatrician came in to check the baby later, Dylan warned him “Don’t rub the cream off of her!”  Gabby immediately wanted to hold her, so we let her.  My mom and I spent time trying to figure out who she looks like.  Sometimes she looks like Reese, and sometimes like Gabby.  Then she gave a nice yawn and a saw the cutest dimple in her left cheek.  The opposite of Reese’s dimple.  She has lighter hair then the other kids.  And it’s longer.  Not as thick as Alisa or Dylan’s though. She has long lashes already, like Alisa and Dylan.  And she has the cutest pout EVER. 

     We called Zach and left a message, and my Dad.  We tried to call Bonnie, but didn’t get an answer the first time, but caught her later.  We posted on Facebook that the baby was here, but that we couldn’t announce the gender until Zach was notified.  He called about 30 minutes later though, and so we could finally do that.  

     Then the nurses left and I got to breastfeed the baby with just Mark and the kids. We bonded nicely as a family during this time alone.  She was so fabulous at it.  She rooted the second she was born, and when offered the nipple dug right in and ate.  And ate, and ate and ate.  In fact, I am on NO sleep because she either ate all night or needed to burp due to eating.  I let Mark sleep for about 5 hours and finally asked him to take over so I could doze off.  Of course that was when the lab showed up to draw blood!  My afterpains started getting really bad.  At first I asked for Motrin, but later asked for Percocet.  This AM I asked for both and now it’s managed nicely.    

     Today I am feeling great.  I’ve had another bath, the Percocet is working great, the kids are on their way here with Mark, who went home to shower.  I didn’t have to share my lunch, and the baby is sleeping peacefully while I type this up.  I should be napping too, I've been up for over 24 hours, but recording my memories of this event, this miracle, is more important to me.  I am so grateful for how ell, how safe and healthy, and beautiful, and wonderful things turned out to be.  How supported I’ve felt.  And loved.  I know this time will pass too soon.  Before I know it, this will be a memory read on birthdays.  But it’s precious to me.  And I thank God for every second of joy I found in the journey. 

     And one last thing to add to your birthstory. The naming of you. We have been very passive about the name.  While at the hospital we put it in the back of our minds. But we needed to get your birth certificate information to the nurses, and we needed to get your footprints for your baby book done.   Mark’s parents came for a visit, and the kids were getting rowdy.  Mark needed to get them home, but I was not about to let him leave until he and I picked out a name.  So we asked Bonnie and Gary to take the kids to the car.  After they left, Mark shut the door.  We’d been looking at my short list. Looking at the baby name book.  Feeling stumped at every turn.  So this time we sat in the silence for a few minutes, just thinking and feeling.  I asked Mark to say a prayer that we’d be inspired to name the baby the perfect name for her.  As Mark offered up a sweet prayer of gratitude and for guidance, the spirit overwhelmed the room.  I don’t think I’d ever felt it so strong before.  The love that we felt Heavenly Father has for this little girl overwhelmed me, and I know from the tears in Mark’s voice he felt it too. At the end of the prayer we again just sat. Mark started crying and I asked him what he was feeling.  He said “I’m just so happy, and I feel so close to this baby.”  We held hands and I hugged him and he said, “Does Kamea mean 'precious'?”  and I looked it up to be sure, and said, “Yes, it means ‘Precious One’.”  And Mark said, “That’s the one.  That’s her name.  She is so precious.”  And our daughter was named.  It was a wonderful experience, a great ending to the perfect, precious birthstory.  Kamea, you are precious.  You are loved.  Thank you for coming to our family, where you will be cherished and adored.  I love you.  And thus ends the story that begins your life. 

Mommy