Funny Thought

My friend just pointed out to me that I have now birthed in every way possible:

• C-section
• VBAC in the hospital
• home birth

If it wasn't for the recovery after, I think I'd say C-section was the way to go.

More Reed Photos

I have a super-talented sister-in-law, Suzee, who is a gifted photographer. Suzee came up to the house yesterday and was my Merry Maid and then topped it off with a photo session.

Thank you so much Suzee! To visit Suzee's website, click here. (http://www.suzetteandersonphotography.com/)

Liz's Version of the Story

Since I've been getting so many questions (rightly so, I think) about what exactly happened on my end, I am going to try to write my version of the story--but I'm not done yet.

If you want to sneak over to Liz's blog (my friend who helped me deliver) to catch her end of the tale here you go: Liz's Versions of the Birthing Incident

Liz also has better pictures than I do--our camera is not taking pictures in focus!

Baby Reed Pics!

Reed Hughes Millar

(we are giving him the midde name Hughes after Liz Hughes)

8 lbs 4 oz, 20 inches

Me, Liz (my 'birthing attendant'), and Reed; in the safety of the hospital on Tuesday

The Salt Lake City Fire Department EMS Dudes

(they cut the cord and wisked me to the hospital)

Reed Hughes Millar

Me and Reed on Monday night (a few hours after his arrival)

Davis, Eliza, and Reed (Roger would not sit in)

Roger and Mom (this is where Roger wants to sit)

How about that elf hat the hospital gave us?

Dad and Reed

How our Salad Bowl Ended up in Labor and Delivery

(an inaugural post by D)
We are proud to announce that Camilla gave birth to a healthy baby boy, 8 lbs 4 oz, 20 inches, at 3:50pm yesterday (6/22) on the bathroom floor, with a neighbor friend catching the baby. This is not a joke.

I was operating at the Intermountain Medical Center in Murray all day while Camilla ran up to the University hospital for a non stress test since she was due that day. Baby and Mom checked out fine, and they felt her contractions were just "false labor". She returned home and continued to have some intermittent, uncomfortable contractions, but was otherwise feeling fine and told me to just finish my cases for the day.

About 15 minutes later, she called me back and left a message in the O.R. that she was taking the kids to BJ's house. I quickly excused myself from the O.R. and recieved another page from Camilla: on this page she left a 911 in the subject line. So then I was running to my car and calling the house. The line was busy because Camilla was calling a friend to come and get the kids. Bless Eliza's little heart (six year old twin); she answered my call to Camilla's cell phone while waiting out in the car for mom to drop them off. After talking to me, Eliza ran back in and asked mom if she needed 911. I could hear Camilla in the background yell, "YES!" By now I was racing down I-15 at 90 mph weaving through traffic with 911 on the line.

Camilla's friend, Liz Hughes, arrived just after Camilla realized she was crowning. Liz just thought she was coming to pick up the kids, but quickly realized she was going to deliver a baby as she heard Camilla screaming, "Liz!!! Get in here! I'm crowning!" He had prolapsed his cord and was coming out blue secondary to cord compression. As Liz spoke to 911 on the phone, Camilla pushed out the baby's head. She then looked at Liz and said, "I am pushing this baby out. I need you to pull." That's exactly what happened. 1-2-3 PUSH!!! Liz pulled out his shoulders, and then placed him on Camilla's belly.

The baby was still blue and not crying, but making some gurgles. Camilla then tells Liz to go to the baby’s room and bring back the bulb syringe that was on the dresser. With a little suctioning he started to breathe but without great crying. The paramedics arrived right then and clamped/cut the cord.

By this time, I had screeched to a stop in front of my house and dashed inside past my curious neighbors. No one seemed to notice the little doctor dad in green scrubs trying to push through the hallway so I calmly spoke up and said, “I need you all to move out of the way. I am the Dad and a physician." (Scary thought- I couldn't fake being a doctor any more)

Camilla was in obvious discomfort, but in control and safe. The baby was blue, but breathing now, and starting to pink up. We wrapped the baby up and rushed him out to the ambulance, which had been heated up to near 100 degrees, and gave the little dude some oxygen while I slapped his feet and pinched his chest. He pinked up great, cried a little, and then just stared at me through his charcoal colored gooey eyes. Totally cute.

Once he looked OK (3 minutes later), I put him in the arms of this very gentle, young paramedic and returned to the house. They had put Camilla up into a rolling chair and were getting ready to put her on a gurney by the front door. The best part of the experience for Camilla occurred when the paramedics said, "Oh, she's little. She'll be easy to pick up." They then wheeled her out, salad bowel between her legs catching the placenta, while she looked at my twenty neighbors and said to one, "That is not how you want to have a baby!!!" BJ and Cynthia arrived as we were leaving and took care of the kids and the war zone left in the bathroom. (All Cynthia... Thanks).

The ambulance then rushed us up to the University Hospital. We wheeled into the labor and delivery unit. They apparently were not ready for us, so Camilla had to wait in an open hallway, salad bowl and all, until they could prepare her a bed. I didn't want to just wait in the hall with the baby, so I walked directly to the nursery and stated that "I have a new admit who was just born on my bathroom floor." They all just looked at me confused, probably because I was dressed in IHC scrubs, and they couldn't figure out why some doctor had carried a baby over here from the children’s hospital. Once they realized I wasn't joking everyone was eager to help.

Since there were no admission documents we taped our name on the baby, and the nursery cleaned him up so that he looked liked he'd just been born in the movies. Camilla was doing great. They finished delivering the placenta, and best of all, they gave her a whopping dose of FENTANYL which was all she wanted.

Now everyone is doing great. Baby likes to eat, cry, poop, fart, and wants to get circumcised again because he's a masochist. Camilla is sore, relieved, and will likely have some post traumatic stress disorder for awhile. Everyone is just great.

We owe so much to great neighbors and an awesome family who were willing to rise to the occasion when the unthinkable happened. This has been so humbling. At various moments throughout this trial we have found ourselves pleading with our Father for help I can testify that there were angels in my home protecting my family.

On a side note, I am more convinced than ever that Camilla could have crossed the plains, buried me in the process, saved the Willy-Martin handcart company, and built her own house in the Salt Lake Valley. She is my heroine and I love her for her courage, clarity of mind, and faith. Wow. Let’s not do this again.

We love you all and hope you are all well. Thank you for your love and prayers.

Mother-love

My mom pulled up to my house today with a HUGE cooler full of frozen foods--casseroles, pizza, and such. Then she brought in rice-crispy treats, hot dogs and buns, banana bread, and then proceeded to make chicken-salad sandwiches for dinner.

She is leaving on Thursday to be on tour with the Tabernacle Choir. I am so proud of her hard work in the choir and her talents, but today I was especially grateful to think she probably spent all day yesterday cooking and baking so I would be stocked up for post-delivery (which unless something happens tonight, she will miss).

I love you, mom, and thank you for the show of support! You are my angel so many times when I need a shoulder to cry on or a friend to hang out with.

Bragging Rights

Today, D and I walked the kids to the playground at school. After we arrived, Davis had to 'go.' With the doors to the school locked, the only alternative was to find a bush, so D gave him the go-ahead.

After such outdoor peeing incidents, my dear husband always let the line fly, "It so cool than men can pee standing up."

Really? Really? Personally, I like the chance to sit down and reflect while I pee. I get privacy. I get my own little time out with permission to lock the door. I don't have to worry about follow-up dribble. And, if I really had to, I could find a bush and squat.

So, really, guys, is this a skill you really want to brag about?

Prego Update

Just because I always get curious about pregancy updates for everyone else at the end:

-I am due in a WEEK, YEAH!

-Unfortunately, I've been feeling pretty good (I say unfortunately because I feel like that is a bad omen for delivering sooner than later).

-Roger was almost a week overdue, so I am expecting to go over (if I think this way, I won't be disappointed if I'm late)

-I really want to go into labor tonight because my mom is going on tour on Wednesday and D has tomorrow off (wishful thinking, eh?)

-I really hadn't progressed much (dilated to a one and 50% effaced at my Dr. appointment) last Thursday

Short edition of "Our Latest"

Davis: Harry Potter. He has watched the Prisoner of Azkaban and The Chamber of Secrets at least 20 times (I am NOT kidding). He carries around the portable DVD player and when things get slow around the house, I find him in some corner or bed in the house watching (he also watches the show with headphones on when the rest of the family has settled down for another movie). He's shown so much interest, I started reading the first book aloud to him at night (though he knows the plot line already and corrects me if there are any discrepancies between book and movie).

Eliza: Barbies and reading out loud to Roger. I am grateful someone in the house is bringing books to little Rogie. I feel like whenever I sit down to read to him he starts jumping on my huge belly and fidgeting in whatever lap I have left--I am not in the mood to tolerate this right now!

D: Work, work, work. At the hospital mostly, but the never-ending yard project we have embarked upon (post to follow--it is pretty awesome!).

Last week when D came home from the store he was thrilled to present the kids with "Superman Returns." He was so excited because it was only $9.99, and "The scene where Superman saves the airplane is AWESOME!" I will decline to comment on the expedience of this purchase.

Roger: Following a diaper change, I lifted Roger above my head. He quickly responded to the maneuver, "I, Hupah-man" (I, Superman).

This total cuteness about made D's movie purchase worth the $9.99.

Smackdown

I can't decide which treat I could live less without,

this:

(Hostess Crumb Doughnuts)

versus

This:

(Lays Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips)

I'm sure the attendants at the gas station would attest that I have been living off of both items and the cup of ice that I show up for nearly every day.

I am slowly losing my mind--and my body isn't my own either

Right now, my back yard is torn up--no grass, all mud (and I will be paying someone A LOT of money to do this damage--here's hoping the clean-up and building get done quickly). There is a gigantic pile of sludgy-swampy water that is trapped at the base of my driveway because it can't drain away due to a huge pile of dirt on the road. Did I mention this water smells like feces? Yep, it does.

Inside my house, the baby room is covered in bins full of baby items-- clothes, diapers, burp cloths, bottles, car seats, and toys. I think this baby has more possessions than I do and he hasn't even been man enough to show his face. . . . .

It is 7:43 P.M. D thought that he would be home around noon today because there were no surgeries scheduled. . . . . Then, there were 2 add-ons, STARTING at 3:00 P.M. He has in-house call tomorrow and Sunday. Maybe I'll talk to him in between snooze sessions on Saturday. Maybe.

I have 2 1/2 weeks until my due date. I am physically in fine condition-no high blood pressure, so swollen ankles(yet), no pre-term labor- can't complain, for a pregnant lady. Still, I am pregnant and well, to be honest, I just want my body back.

I think I am feeling a little stressed. Just a little.