Number 4

Everyone has that "number". You know, the "one" that made the difference.  Sometimes it is the first that changes your life radically and the rest just follow.  I think I most often hear it's #3.  Well, as you now know, my #3 was my "validation delivery", and that little baby was the best sleeper, best nurser, and of the happiest disposition.  I was sailing high with my darling daughter and two little bear cub boys to love.  For me, it was #4.
We had gone through a ton of family upheaval.  Well, we had moved cross-country twice by the time my third child was 10 months old.  When he turned a year, I was thrilled to discover I was pregnant again.  Then the sickness kicked in. I had been sick before, but this was a new level. My nausea was debilitating.  I tried all of the homeopathic remedies and was left laying on the couch meditating on the sweet release that death was to those who suffer in this world. Yes, I'm a bit melodramatic at times.
Further, I didn't know any midwives in the area. I began to track some down.  The midwife I had used with my third was so highly recommended and so "perfect" in my estimation that it was hard to be happy with someone else.  We did find a very competent, certified midwife by the time I was about 5 months pregnant.  At this point I had already begun my prenatal care with a AMA ob-gyn. I hesitated about how I wanted to birth this child.  I decided to go for that perfect delivery again.  But as with most things in this world, we rarely get repeats.
My midwife wasn't as excited about inducing labor early as my previous midwife had been.  I was still under the misconception that if I did not induce early, I'd have an over 9 pound baby, tear, suffer violence on all levels, and be more traumatized than ever.  Not knowing this hidden fear, my midwife made the BIG mistake of guestimating that my baby was around 10 pounds as I pleaded for an induction.  When she saw my tears, she started hedging on her position.  I didn't get the induction before my due date, but at 3 days overdue she was willing to check me. The following day she broke my water and, as usual for me by now, the baby was born two hours later: my second girl, only almost a full pound lighter at 8 lbs3oz.
The problem with this delivery began when the bathtub slowly drained and left me with diminishing water.  The water was also much less hot than I remembered with my first bathtub delivery.  I sort of felt like I was just sitting uncomfortably in cool water...in a lot of pain. Then, my placenta detached slightly on the slower side, resulting in a minimal increased amount of bleeding.  Whether it was that, or just childbirth, I felt really exhausted after the baby was born...for a few days.  When my three older children came climbing up on the bed to see the baby,` it was really too much for me.  And then I received a lot of "opinions" about the name I had chosen.  And indeed, I ended up changing the name before the midwife filled out the paperwork.  It took me probably three years to come to peace with that.
My beautiful girl also was born with a family trait that comes from my husband's side of the family: she had almost no bridge to her nose.  She has a darling nose now, but pediatricians have noticed this in my children and the scary thing is that...they look a little down syndrome.  I clearly remember holding my breath as my pediatrician examined my baby, and I had a sense of doubt when he said "you have a healthy little baby here." I waited a moment to see if he was going to add anything to that.  I sort of knew deep down that she was fine, but a mother worries.  Looking back, I think this played a role in my psychological state postpartum; trying to convince myself that my baby was ok.

Aside from that concern, my little girl was far more petite than her siblings had been, and I worried that she was thriving.  At one year old, she had an allergic reaction (to pineapple, we think) and she had full body hives.  I had never had an allergic reaction in the family before, so I was worried. My baby was fussy and needed to be held until she was about Three. Luckily her little brother was a laid back dude, who weighed the same amount as she did by the time he was three months old (20 pounds! Actually, his sister was about 22 at the time, but still).  I called them my "twins", even though they were 20 months apart.
Six years later this child is now moving into the "upper half" of our family and she insists that she is one of the "big kids".  The truth is, she's a middle child.  She is shy and sweet, but also incredibly strong-willed.  She makes very deep friendships, and just about anyone she meets becomes an instant friend.  She loves playing on swing sets, making mud pies, gardening and school.  She is competitive and very tough--with her two big brothers to make sure of that!  She is a "little mother" to her younger brothers and sisters.  She is a huge help to me.
As a mother, I have learned so much about trust, about unconditional love, about mothering through the fears and the unknowns.  You learn to make peace with imperfect moments in the past.  You learn to love a child at the same time as you learn how that child needs to be loved.  My heart expanded, and my fourth child, my most difficult in many ways, became one of the greatest blessings to myself and our entire family.