Saturday's BABY STORY SHOWCASE...

Head on over to A Glimpse of Destini to read her other birth story. It was her #3 that took today's prize. I will sum up Saturday's winner by quoting the very last sentence of her post.

"Moral of the story: Never dismiss the prayers of small children."

Flash forward a few years...I found myself pregnant again with number 3. It was one of those kind of surprises. Something planned, but not planned. My husband and I were content with the 2 that we had. To show God that I was serious about being content, I sold all of my baby stuff thinking that He would understand that we were okay with a family of 4. The funny part of this story involved the my 2 older children. I was driving up I-75. I was dropping them off at a friend's house. I was getting ready to attend a funeral. The kids were talking in the back asking questions about the funeral, the deceased, God, the sky...you know, typical kid stuff. All of a sudden they hit me with the "We want a brother or a sister." I politely told them that babies are a special gift from God and that if they want a baby, they would have to pray for one, thinking that they would just drop it and move on.

Right then and there, both children offered up a special prayer right in the back seat of my truck. Big brother prayed for a little brother and sissy prayed for twin girls to help her clean her room.Up until this point I had no real reason to suspect that I was pregnant. I was a little bit late, but with me, that was not uncommon. I never really worked like clockwork. The day after this little prayer from my children, I woke up feeling very sick to my stomach and "the girls" were very sensitive. I kept thinking to myself, "Nah, I can't be..."On a whim, I bought a pregnancy test and sure enough, I was pregnant!

We decided early on to not find out what we were having. After all, I was going to have another c-section. If I knew what I was having I could have the birth announcements pretty much made a month ahead of time! We figured we would just be surprised.Sissy and Big Brother argued for most of the 9 months about the baby. Sissy was very adamant that the baby was going to be a girl, because that is what she prayed for. She would not entertain for a second the thought that it could be a boy. Around my 8th month in a moment of weakness, I asked my OB nurse if we were having a girl or a boy because regardless of whether I find out or not, it is in my chart. My husband and I decided that we would find out so that if Sissy was wrong, we could gently prepare her for a boy in the few weeks remaining. The nurse mouthed the word boy to me from the door. I only shared that knowledge with my husband.

We didn't do any special preparations, like buying boy clothes or putting out boy clothes in the dresser. We did talk to Sissy and tell her that although she prayed for a girl that it was always a possibility that this could be a brother, after all, Big Brother prayed too. The time finally came for the c-section. I ended up in a different hospital this time. No crazy anesthesiologist named Bob to give me my spinal. No bra flinging...no hysteria. I ended up having a team of 2 (one was completing her schooling) anesthesiologists that came for a consult before the operation. I expressed my concerns over how sick I get during my surgeries. I also expressed concern for my husband, who up until this point had never gone in on a c-section. My mom had always gone. He is one of those people who faints at the sight of a needle and the smell of a hospital.

With a plan in hand for all my concerns we prepped for surgery...My 2 anesthesiologists were awesome. They installed an air curtain that blew either warm or cold air on me. They both stood at my head and talked to both my husband and me. At the very second I started to feel nauseous they administered medicine. We laughed and joked for a while. My husband was doing great! At some point we asked when they were going to start. Little did we know that the surgery was almost over!

Finally the baby was born. The nurse gently placed the baby over the curtain, then took her to the nursery without really saying whether it was a boy or a girl. She must have thought that we already knew. Steve and I looked at each other and asked the anesthesiologists what we had. They replied that they saw girl parts. We were stunned. "Really? Are you sure? Girl parts?" We were prepared for a boy, settled on our boy name. The one drug doctor went and found out and returned...Yep, it's a girl. At this time, I am still on the table getting stitched up.

Steve suddenly began to not feel so well. I told him it was okay to go and see the baby. When he stood up from his stool he began to feel queasy. The 2 drug administering doctors told him to sit back down and that they would wheel him out on his stool. They did not want to chance him passing out and hurting himself. He sat back down, a little embarrassed and went to meet his new daughter. She ended up being the smallest of the three weighing a 7 lbs and 1/2 oz...

Moral of the story: Never dismiss the prayers of small children.

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