Hyrum

I decided that this was the year I would tell my kids' birth stories.

It was June, 2004 and only ten days after Micah was born, Brad turned to me and said, "I would do that again. It's worth it." Pretty amazing, considering I had just spent the majority of seven months flat in bed.  I'll tell Micah's story in June when it's his birthday, but Hyrum's story started at that exact moment.  That's when Brad and I both knew Micah would not be our last child.

I've had a difficult time getting pregnant every time except the first two, so with that history, we didn't do anything to prevent a new baby from joining our family.  When Micah was eighteen months old, I went on Clomid.  It had worked with Lily and with Micah, so our hopes were high.

After six months of treatment, I still wasn't pregnant.  At that point, I questioned whether I was being practical or selfish in wanting another baby.  I knew I still wanted more, but the emotional toll on me every month to discover that first spot of blood was wearing me down.  We decided to stop with the medicine.

I was at rough camp for the girls of our Church two months later, and my period was late.  I was surprised, but I kept the information to myself, having gotten my hopes up so many times in the past, just to have them dashed again.  We were bringing our girls from the rough camp into the main girls' camp on the last night, when I first saw the blood.  Disappointed again.  But it stopped, and a few days later, I knew I was pregnant.

I knew what was in my immediate future-- at thirteen weeks a cerclage procedure would be performed where the doctor would stitch my cervix closed for the next 23 weeks, and I would be put on bedrest until that time. Before the procedure was even scheduled, I started spotting, and the doctor was concerned that the pregnancy would even be viable.  He moved the surgery up to eleven weeks, and during the procedure he found the biggest cervical polyp he or the OR staff had ever seen.  Once it was removed I no longer had any problems.

I still had to be mostly in bed, but the restrictions for this pregnancy were much more lenient that with Micah's--I could be out of bed one hour every day.  I felt like a prisoner granted early parole.

What the rest of the kids looked like about this time:

Since I spent so much time in bed, two-and-a-half-year-old Micah would spend a lot of time with me on my bed, reading stories or just snuggling.  Often he would ask to see my belly, and then he'd pull up his shirt and rub his on mine.  A sweet memory.

And that is my gargantuan belly at 31 weeks.  Yes, I still had months to go.

Dr. H removed my stitches at 36 weeks, and nothing happened.  Unlike most women with cerclage, my body still won't go into labor.

I was due April 8th, and at my doctor's visit I was already dilated to a 4 and 60% effaced.  I was 12 days early, and I begged the doctor to strip my membranes to see if we could finish up this show.  As he was stripping them, my water accidentally broke.  I was sent home with instructions to come to the hospital as soon as labor started.

It never did.

Brad and the rest of the kids were in the Mesa Easter Pageant that night, and I sent them all off with a promise that I'd call if anything happened.

It never did.

Brad got home around 9:30, and after a call to the doctor, he sent us to the hospital to get things started.

Around 11 pm they began the pitocin.  No problem.  I was ready to have this baby.  But the little bugger wouldn't engage in the right spot.  Every time a contraction would push his head lower, he would stubbornly pop right back out.  I was progressing--up to a seven--and the nurse told me that I would surely have him before her shift was over.

That was the wrong thing to tell me.

At 4 am, Baby was still floating and refusing to engage, even though I was fully dilated.  After having delivered my previous few babies naturally, I knew I couldn't make it this time.That's when I melted into a puddle of tears and the anesthesiologist was called in.  After the epidural, I was able to relax and rest for an hour.

When the doctor told me that he still wasn't fully engaged but that I could push, I had that baby out in three pushes.   8:59 am 7 lb. 3 oz. and 20 inches long.  Look at that head!  That's what a baby looks like when it spends less than five minutes in the birth canal.

I had nurses from the nursery come ask my how my C-section incision was feeling, just from glancing at his head.

There are few happier moments in my life than those first few moments when  I've held each of my children.  First kissed their wet head and held their tiny hands.  I looked him in the eye and at that moment was overwhelmed with love for this little guy.

The naming tradition in our family started when Ben was born--I'll share that in April, but I'll tell you that we ask all the kids for their input on names and we have never named a baby before it was born, mostly because we don't know if it's a boy or a girl.

Tucker liked the names Lorin and D'Artagnan (fresh from starring in Three Musketeers), Ben loved the name Jacob, Lily wanted Clark or Marcus, Heidi was mostly just against anything suggested, Micah wanted to name his baby brother Moose after a stuffed cow, Dad liked Jack or Jonah, and Mom wanted Kimball, since he was born on Spencer W. Kimball's birthday.  We narrowed it down to Kimball Jack or Jonah Kimball, but neither one seemed to fit.

I think Heidi suggested the name Hyrum, and all of us seemed to like it.  Micah was sitting on my lap and I asked him "Should we name our baby Kimball or Hyrum?"  to which he responded, "Shrek."

That's when we decided on Hyrum Kimball Denton, named after two very great leaders of our Church.  And Rum has been part of our family ever since.

I can't imagine life without my little buddy, all the funny things he says and all the crazy trouble he creates--he walked at 9 1/2 months and he hasn't slowed down since.

March 28, 2008--one year

March 28, 2009--two years

 

March 28, 2010--three years

 March 28, 2011--four years

I love the smile on his face that he reserves for just me.  I love the sparkle in his eye when he thinks of something funny.  I love the sound of his voice as he's learning to put together words and sentences.  Mostly, I love his sleepy stagger out of bed every morning as he searches for his first hug of the day. 

I love you, Rum.  Thanks for bringing life into our lives and joy to our home.

And a lot of commotion too.