Thoughts from Room 250

First, let me say -- once again, and I'm sorry if I sound like a broken record here -- that I was incredibly warmed by your sincere congratulations this week. Thank you for helping me celebrate the arrival of our sweet little girl. I've had a smile on my face 24 hours a day lately, and you are no small part of that.

Second, I feel the need to set the record straight about a few things that I've been pondering ever since Sparkle's arrival on Wednesday.

Permission to speak freely, Captain?

For starters, I feel I may have led several of you astray. Sparkles Diamond is not our daughter's real name. That's just what Natalie, our sweet six-year-old daughter, wanted to name her baby sister. But since it sounds vaguely like the name of a 1960s Las Vegas showgirl, my husband and I vetoed her selection. (Although it has served us well as a nickname until we could come up with something better. Corey and I are terrible at deciding on names for our kids before they are born.)

I'm sure I'll still slip from time to time and call her Sparkles on my blog, but to end the confusion -- her real name is Teyla (pronounced TAY-lah) which is a feminine version of the male Hebrew name Telah. It's in the Bible, but the real reason we chose it has to do with its meaning, which is roughly translated "greenness" or "moistness."

To us, it carries the connotation of spring and freshness and new growth. And in the four years since our last baby, God has miraculously worked a "telah" in our dry and barren marriage. Our restored relationship is a work of redemption and grace that defies explanation. Teyla's name is a way for us to magnify The One who has made all things new.

So -- meet Teyla, the girl behind the Sparkles.
















Another thing. Several of you mentioned that I looked impossibly awake and alert for an early morning induction. There is a reason for that.





















Ahem.

Moving on: For the record, Teyla is the smallest baby I have ever given birth to. Our firstborn, Natalie, was 8 pounds, 11 ounces (41 weeks). Connor was 8 pounds, 3 ounces (39 weeks). So both Corey and I were stunned when we were told Teyla only weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces -- especially since I gained the same amount of weight this pregnancy as the others.

(Curses be upon the Christmas cookies forever and ever.)

Translation: She is hopelessly tiny. We just can't get over it. If you were a fly on our wall right now, you'd hear: "Look at her little ears!" "My fist is bigger than her head!" "She is JUST SO TINY!"

Sigh.

We are completely in love with this little thing.
















So now we're home -- since those pesky police were able to break through the barricades I'd put up to keep the hospital from discharging me last night. I truly cannot say enough good things about our stay -- even apart from The Blessed Epidural.

The nurses? Fantastic. Attentive. Caring.

My doctor? Supportive. Friendly. Encouraging.

The food? ... Well, not too bad, honestly. It was a little bland -- and in Minnesota, where much of the population considers ketchup too spicy, that's saying something -- but I didn't have to cook it, which was a huge treat.

Overall? (And come close here, because I'm going to whisper.) It was almost like staying at a spa. They kept a fully stocked snack bar right outside my room. (My husband used it to make me orange-cranberry juice cocktails. They tasted like the nectar of the gods to me. I drank at least 20 during our stay.) Physical therapists came around every day to see if I needed a massage. The nursing staff even practices aromatherapy. I had peppermint oil in my labor room, and before I was discharged yesterday, one of the nurses drew me a bath scented with lavender.

It was relaxing. And special. And I got to spend tons of time admiring Teyla with my husband.

Or maybe that just proves that I'm a mom with young children at home who needs to get out more. I don't know.

I just know I was sad to leave last night.

Besides, whenever we leave the hospital, my heart squeezes a little. Because I recognize that time is moving on. Teyla was just born Wednesday, and surely, she's still very young and tiny (have I said that yet?) and full of promise. But the clock keeps ticking, no matter how much I want it to stop and let me savor a moment for just a bit longer.

But those are quite melancholic thoughts for such a precious weekend.

You know what? My birthday is tomorrow. But I've already been given my favorite gift for this year.
















God's goodness is extravagant.