Violet Eldon

A long story, feel free to skim to the pictures of Violet--that's the good part.

So...we went to the doctor twice last week, once at 40 weeks 4 days and once at 40 weeks 6 days. The tests all looked really good the first time (as in good for the baby to stay until 42 weeks) and she hadn't dropped at all, so the doctor said we might just have to wait to do anything until the next week. At the second appointment he checked me again and said although the baby was still high, I was farther progressed and he would like to induce me the next day.

I was pretty thrilled. The doctor had told me at 37 weeks the baby was going to be born any day--I had really strong and constant Braxton-Hicks that register pretty high on all my stress tests--I was feeling a little like I was 4 weeks overdue instead of one week. Basically, for the past week I'd been waking up each morning at 4 AM hoping to be in a lot of pain and when I would feel fine I would spiral into self-pity mode. The doctor's appointment on Thursday was a real low point for me, made obvious by the fact that I started crying during the ultra-sound when the doctor said her head was still very, very high.  I woke up early on Friday ready to spiral down again and had a thought come into my head that the baby would be born soon and all would be well. I held onto that during Friday and Saturday and after the appointment when Rocky asked if I was excited to be induced, I told him, I was pretty sure I was going into labor on my own any minute anyways.

Well I didn't and we packed our bags and left for the hospital Sunday morning. I was pretty confident they wouldn't send me home but still unsure--since they had sent me home twice before. They started me on my IV and within the hour I was having strong contractions. Soon they were every minute and I told Rocky I was already ready for the epidural but then I looked at the pain scale picture on my phone and decided that I only looked like number six so I had to suffer a little longer. Then the baby's heart rate dropped from 140 to 60. The nurse came right in and switched off the IV and called the doctor. Like everything, this was done in Thai and we had no idea what was going on--despite asking several times. My contractions slowed down but were still strong and the baby's heart rose a bit but kept dropping with the contractions. The doctor came in and watched the monitor for a few minutes and told the nurse something and then told us he couldn't induce me because the contractions were too strong for the baby. He said the placenta wasn't working well enough, it was too old to give the baby the oxygen she needed for the contractions--whether they were induced or natural it would be the same thing. The only option now was C-Section. Of course we agreed to the surgery and before I knew what was happening I was on a stretcher on my way to the Operating Room.

This was the scariest part because I understood nothing that was going on. Everyone around me was speaking Thai and my Thai is limited completely to hello, thank you, turn left, turn right, straight on and my street number. They were not using any of these phrases. I was given an epidural right away and I could always tell when they were talking to me because they spoke English and they said the same thing over and over again, "Hold still" "No moving" "Most important part" I wanted to say back, "You said it was the most important part three needles ago" but I was being help down by three nurses. After the epidural I was laid on a cot with a sheet blocking my view of anything past my neck. I spent the next twenty minutes asking anyone who came over by my head where my husband was and that I wanted my husband there. All while silently praying the epidural would work and I wouldn't feel anything.

They finally let Rocky in right before they started the surgery. I made him tell me everything they were doing, which didn't work well as he kept turning away and saying things like, "Ugh I could never be a doctor" and "This is so weird. I can't watch." I just kept asking him over and over again, "Where's the baby?" "Is she out yet?" Finally they pulled her out, I felt that, and Rocky said, "She's out! and she's purple!" She started crying right away, which is good because all I knew about her was that she was purple, it was the sweetest sound. They wrapped her up and handed her to Rocky and since my arms were strapped down and I'm pretty sure some of my organs were still out, all I could do on was lay there and cry--I was so happy.

They took her up to the nursery and Rocky followed her and met my mom who's flight home was supposed to be that same day but since she's amazing she decided to stay another week. At that point I'm not sure what happened as I fell asleep and woke up a while later on my way to the recovery room, where I spent what would have been a very long two hours, had I not been on drugs and a bit here and there mentally. After I could move my legs and stopped humming along to 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,' they took me upstairs to see my baby.

My mom has a picture of Rocky in this same outfit--complete with the hot pink crocs. It's great. I promise to post it as soon as I can.

She is beautiful and healthy and wants to eat all the time and we love her very much and are so thankful she's here safe.

 She was 8 pounds 15 ounces or 4.04 kilograms--that's how you get fat back straight from the womb.

Yes, I was still on morphine when they took this picture. E is thrilled with her new sister and held her for a record 60 seconds, which is double the combined time she has held Violet the two times she has been to visit since. She told her pre-school class we named the baby, Pony, an open act of rebellion against us for not naming her Pony. 

As for the name Violet, I had another name I was planning on using, Violet wasn't even on my top five list (it was on Rocky's). I kept telling everyone I would know what to name her when I saw her but I didn't really believe that--it was just to keep people from bothering me about being indecisive. So after they brought her to me Rocky asked what her name was and we went through some of our favorites, but none of them felt right. Then I said, "What about Violet, she was born purple?" he just laughed. But I was serious and as soon as I said, Violet, if felt like her name and we loved it.

Her middle name comes from Rocky's grandpa whose birthday she shares. We hope she doesn't take on his nick name, "Big El," but we do hope she will always look up to his wonderful example of dedication to his family, strong testimony of the gospel and love for all sporting events--especially BYU football and all his grand children's sporting events. (Rocky especially hopes to see in her a little of that fiery ability to unload on a wrestling referee at any given opportunity.)