Lucy Sun Vargo
January 12, 2018 // 5:21 pm
6 lbs 15 oz // 20″ long
As I sit down to write this, our sweet Lucy Sun (sounds like soon, also my mom’s middle name) is 3 weeks old. 3 weeks! When they tell you that time flies with a little one, it’s truly no joke. Like clockwork, as each week passes by, I cry happy tears and say to Scott, it’s been 1 – or 2 or 3 – weeks since we met this perfect nugget. How did we get so lucky? Our biggest thanks! to all of you for your kind words, emails and messages since we shared our news. You made us smile so hard.
Lucy’s Birth Story | 3 AM
I always told Scott that I had a feeling our girl would come before her due date, and she did by 4 days. During the 39th week of pregnancy, we took extra long walks with the pups and ate spicy foods, and each evening as we tucked ourselves into bed, we would say, will tonight be the night? We were so excited to have her join our family that our difficulty sleeping was a result of our own giddiness. Finally – 3 weeks ago, sigh – I awoke to a small cramp in my stomach at 3 am. When it happened again, I began timing them, and they consistently stayed 15 minutes apart until around 5 am. At this point, I woke up Scott, and in my most calm voice, I said, it might be today. I remember feeling a chill throughout my body. Saying those words aloud had us both grinning from ear to ear.
By 8 am, we had both showered and packed up the hospital and dog bags. The contractions were harder to talk through, and by now, they were consistently 5 minutes apart. We called our doctor, and she gave us the green light to come in, at which point, we both laughed and cried, and we did our best to not get too excited – just in case it was a false alarm. On the drive to the hospital, I remember looking out my window and watching the cars on their morning commute. I watched the drivers sip their coffee at stop lights, and I watched as they swerved to miss the same pot holes we had memorized from our weekly doctor appointments. How strange, I thought, that they’re going to work, and we might have a baby today! I must have said it aloud, because it made Scott smile.
We made it to Northwestern Triage by 9 am, and within that first hour, it was determined that I was dilated to 3.5, and it was time to move up to Labor & Delivery. Up until this point, I was convinced it would somehow be a false alarm, but in an instant, it all became very, very real. Everything that happened after that point felt momentous. I’m being pushed in a wheelchair up to L & D!, I thought. They’re showing us our room! They’re telling us how to use the remote control! It was all so wild, and I vowed to remember every detail.
I have the most fond, warm and fuzzy memories of being in the delivery room. I had no idea what to expect, and aside from a couple of birthing classes we had taken in December, my assumption was that having a baby would happen quickly, with several doctors in the room. There would surely be blindingly bright lights, and without a doubt, there would be a lot of screaming. Instead, we were greeted by two smiling nurses who remained with us throughout the day. They dimmed the lights, and we watched the prettiest snow fall outside. (Should we name her flurry?, we joked.) I opted for an epidural to ease the contraction pain, after which, I zoned out to a Friends marathon on the television (best day ever!) and took a short nap.
Around 12 pm, my water broke on its own, and in-between sleep and wake, I was greeted by my doctor later that afternoon. At 3 pm, she said, Kim, you’re fully dilated. Let’s have a baby today! I cried. Scott cried. (Are you sensing a theme?) Our nurses took over, and when I began pushing at 3:30, everything felt… Serene? Calm? They eased off of my epidural so that I could just barely feel my contractions again, and with our nurses and Scott in the room, I began pushing. On a funny side note, Scott reminded me that we had brought our portable speaker in case I’d like to hear music. Between contractions, we shuffled through Spotify playlists, testing everything from Sam Cooke radio to Sturgill Simpson. I thought I wanted something soothing and familiar, but nothing felt right. On a whim, I suggested Chromeo. And so as the story goes, we met our Lucy girl to the pumped up tunes of Fancy Footwork. (Ha!)
For the last 30 minutes of pushing, our doctor came back to check on our progress. She said, you’re doing it, Kim! Two more pushes and you’ll be holding your baby! Now, when I say that we ‘cried,’ in every other point of this story, I mean that our eyes got misty, and I had a few tears – the silent kind that roll down your cheek. But this. This time, we both really, really cried. Like, ugly, red-faced bawling. I began crying so much, that those final pushes felt impossible. We had waited so long to get to that exact moment. A few minutes later, in my haze, I asked our doctor, is she here yet?, to which she replied, Kim, look down, meet your baby. It was 5:21 pm. There she was.
The Next Day
Our experience with the team at Northwestern was outstanding. Our first day with Lucy was a sunny one, and our recovery room was filled with the warmest, most beautiful light. We took countless photos (with our Instant Camera, too!), and we spent the entire morning by the window, watching the ice break along Lake Michigan and holding our girl tight. The nurses slipped in and out invisibly, giving us privacy and offering up pain medicine before I realized I needed it.
We talked about who she looks most like, and after examining all the teeniest, tiniest details on her body, we ultimately agreed that she’s a fifty-fifty split. Her skin is rosy like Scott’s, but her eyes resemble my own. As every hour passed, we changed our minds on whether or not she has dad’s lips, and I apologized to her for inheriting my lack of eyebrows. Only one of her itty bitty ears comes to a slight elfin-like point, which was passed down from her grandpa, my dad.
That first full day was so tremendously special, and I have spent almost every day since recounting every minute of it. On her one week birthday, I couldn’t stop crying while I nursed her. I told Scott that all I wanted most in the world was to go back to that recovery room, and relive Day One. Why?, I asked. Why do I want to go back to the hospital? To which Scott replied, because it was where we finally got to know Lucy. That whole day was only ours.
Lucy’s First Weeks At Home
Most of our family lives out of town, and for the first two weeks of Lucy’s life, our home was filled with three sets of grandparents. Somehow, hours would fly by, and all we had done for the day was stare at Lucy, squeeze her toes and nibble her fingers. When she opened her eyes, we all coo-ed and acted like children ourselves, and when she squeaked like a bird, we all laughed and asked, did you hear that?!
Slowly, Lucy has been venturing out into the world! She’s a busy lady, with pediatric appointments to meet, coffee dates to woo and conservatories to discover. Scott is the proudest dad I’ve ever seen, and to watch her with him has my heart exploding into a thousand pieces.
Many of you have asked about Jack, CC and Libby, and after a bit of a learning curve, things are going well! It was a bit rough for Jack in the beginning (between baby and visitors, there was a lot of change in his home), but I’d like to dedicate an entirely separate post on the topic as an update to our pre-baby training.
Welcome, our sweet Lucy! We are so in love, and we can’t wait to watch our lives unfold with you in it.