Akls = 1, Grumpy Ultrasound Technician = 0

Actually, the Akls have 3! Nola Bibi Akl entered the world at 8:37 pm on Saturday, July 25. She weighed in at a svelte 8 pounds 15 ounces, versus the 11 pound baby we had been anticipating -- thanks to our nemesis, the Grumpy Ultrasound Technician. Okay, from here on out, I promise to stop obsessing -- as we have someone much more important in our lives to obsess about now!

We knew that we just might be on the verge of the birth experience we had been anticipating for so many months, as my water broke in the middle of the night, at 1:15 am on Saturday morning, and we rushed to the hospital, full of the excitement of what was to come -- and Nick's specific excitement over the fact that he would now be able to use his i-phone application, i-contraction.

When we got to the hospital, we learned that the doctor on call only wanted for us to have a C-section as a final effort to deliver if, and only if, labor failed to progress -- and we didn't even have to refer to our Ultrasound Technician as grumpy for the doctor to be dismissive of his assessment.

After allowing labor to progress for seven hours (to lots of pain, accompanied by lots of puking), we finally got the epidural at 9 am, and everything from that point on started to look brighter. We figured we were close to the end of the labor part of things.

Anyhow, we were wrong. Twelve hours, multiple bags of I.V. fluids, and a few more puking sessions later, we were ready to endure the estimated two hours of pushing to meet our little baby. Very long story short (and this is to save Nick the embarrassment of mentioning that he nearly fainted), three pushes later, we became the proud parents of Nola Bibi Akl!

Here she is world! Don't you just love her?

We're having a C-section

Disclaimer: This is not actually a picture of Nola, but could be close if the Ultrasound Technician is right!

So our doctor agreed with the tech: We have a big baby, and ultimately urged us to schedule a C-section, to avoid any risk. Our somber car ride back from the Dr.'s office included this sad conversation:


Me: (stifling sobs in the passenger seat) The only way I know how to show love to things is to make them fat. I made Nola fat. (All the while, by the way, my tear-filled eyes are riveted on the "In & Out Burger" as we pass it on the way home.)

Nick: (driving, while trying to comfort me) Don't be silly. What do you mean?

Me: (whimpering now) Just look at Sid (our very fat cat). Everytime he comes to me I give him a can of food - sometimes four a day. If I were Rocky's only owner (Rocky, our very lean dog, thanks to Nick), he would be obese because of all the junk I feed him. (sniffle, sniffle)

Nick: Oh, don't be silly. Nola is very loved, and you don't use food to show love. She will be just fine.

Me: (sniffle) Thank you, baby. (wipes eyes, and takes deep breath) So, do you want pick up something to eat?


Even though we know that this is the best decision for our baby, I think both Nick and I have had this image in our mind that we would have a cartoony-frantic-running-to-the-hospital-in-the-middle-of-the-night-because-the-water-broke type of experience, and now we just now we won't.

So, for now, unless we go into labor, and have to rush in for a C-section over the weekend, we are scheduled to deliver at 7:30 am on Tuesday, July 28. Our little (scratch that: BIG) Nola will share a birthday with her Aunt Allyson!

Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers that morning. We post any changes in the plan, should they occur!

Fat baby, fat mama

So, Nick and I went in for a fetal non-stress test this morning, and Nola looked great -- she passed with flying colors. However, we are one week over our due date, so the doctor compromised with us (we desperately want to go into labor naturally) that we would induced Monday night, if she doesn't come naturally over the weekend.

Fair enough; however, he did want for us to see the grumpy ultrasound technician one more time before heading home. So we did, and of course, he enjoyed raining on our parade.

The grumpy technician's report is that she has plenty of amniotic fluid, but she is a big, big baby. Anyhow, he estimated her weight to be 10 pounds 8 ounces, stating that there is a plus or minus one pound standard deviation. Again, we did our little plus or minus dance, when he said, "She could be 11 pounds 8 ounces." To which I replied, "...or 9 pounds 8 ounces?" To which he gruffly laughed and said, "Unlikely." He then told us to stay put while he called the doctor to report his findings.

Anyhow, Nick and I are going to the doctor's office right away to see what our options are. I thought we'd just take a minute to post this info -- just in case we get stuck in Ventura delivering our big baby.

Fashionably Late

I thought I'd use the wait-time to finally upload some pictures of Nola's nursery.

Nick built the closet (to the left) and the daybed/wall-unit (to the right)with the help of some Swedish stick figures.

The closet is already jam-packed with a miniature wardrobe that is triple the size of Nick and mine combined. She does have a lot of family and friends to thank for her fashion-sense -- hopefully she won't get that from either of her parents. Sorry to drag you under the bus with me on this one, Nick, but neither of us are what one would call fashionable.

We finally got the crib in (bottom right), and it's not so matchy-matchy with the rest of the space, which is kind of a bummer, but it's a nice big crib that will eventually convert into a toddler bed and finally a frame for a double bed. I hope that the lack of a matching crib isn't what's keeping Nola from emerging; however, if that were the case it would confirm that she has indeed inherited a sense of style far beyond her parents

If you see anything missing from the nursery setup, let me know, as maybe that's the thing she's waiting for. Perhaps she's just fearful that she won't get the constant supply of ice cream that she's currently receiving. Either way, we'll keep you all posted on her arrival. Whenever she chooses to come.

...And we wait

So, about two weeks ago, the grumpy ultrasound technician approximated that Nola was between 8 pounds 10 ounces -- and 9 pounds 10 ounces. Shortly thereafter, my mom and dad hop in the car to speed cross country to await the arrival of this large baby. My OB was dismissive of the technician's estimates, saying that there's a considerable standard deviation around those estimates, and said to "not worry" if the baby goes past due.

I laughed, thinking that there was no way that this baby will be late. I was wrong. She does have my genes in her afterall, so being late should be expected.

The due date came and went (it was Wednesday) -- and now we wait. I have no exciting pictures to upload, unless of course you would like to see some footage of me watching the "Golden Girls." My dad flew home, while my mom is still out here, spending time with Kim's kids and calling me at least once a day with concerns such as this ditty:

"Hi Kris, this is mother. I just wanted to let you know that if you feel like you've wet the bed during the night, that may not be pee, it actually may be your water breaking, so you need to get up and go to the hospital in case that happens."

Well, our hospital bags have been packed for two weeks now -- just in case I wet the bed one of these nights.