Welcome, Annabelle!

Remember in last week's post when I said that it had been a whirlwind of activity around our house as we got ready for the new baby? Well, that was child's play compared to what we're dealing with now.

I don't know if you've heard, but if you haven't, my little sister was born last Wednesday (yes, it was on 9/11, let's move on). Here are the details: Annabelle Victoria Rose, born at 10:52 a.m. at Swedish Hospital in Seattle. She was a robust 7 pounds, 6 ounces, and she measured in at 21 inches. And I'm legally required to inform you that she and my mom are both doing wonderfully. Of course, Mom and Dad are now dealing with a 23-month-old and a newborn. Hopefully they can squeeze in a nap around Thanksgiving.

I officially met wee little Annabelle on Friday afternoon. I know that in previous posts, I've proven to be somewhat lukewarm over the prospect of having a little sister to steal away Mom and Dad's affections. But that changed the moment I saw her, when I knew that I'd love her unconditionally and protect her for the rest of my life. Was it because I looked into her tiny little face and saw a little bit of myself? A beautiful, feisty but fragile child, ready to take on the world? Yeah, maybe. But mostly it was because Mom and Dad told me that Annabelle had given me a "Big Sister" present.

It's a model airplane, complete with lights, people and all sorts of fun noises! Airplanes are near the top of the list of my favorite things in the world -- if there's one flying overhead at any time, I'll point it out, even if it occasionally ends up being just a bird -- and this is my first one to call my own. So yeah, this little runt is OK in my book.

She has other qualities, of course. Mom tells me that she's a great eater and great sleeper so far, although that may change at the drop of a hat. And I hate to toot my own family's horn, but she's pretty darn adorable. But I'm also afraid to admit that I'm a little jealous. When I was born, my head was pulled out via forceps, so my first day or so was spent with a head shaped like a peanut -- with one big lump protruding from the top of my head (it went away, of course). Annabelle was born with a perfectly round head that several nurses commented on breathlessly. Personally, I think she looks like Dr. Bunsen from the Muppets, but apparently people dig round heads. Whatever.

Either way, I'm glad to have her around, and I'm looking forward to getting into all forms of mischief with her over the next, oh, 100 years.

Now, if you're one of those people who loves a good (non-graphic) birthing story, keep reading. I was at daycare while all this was happening, but I gleaned enough from listening in on conversations around the house that I have a pretty good idea what happened on Wednesday morning.

Mom first started having contractions at about 6 a.m. Wednesday morning. She'd been having Braxton Hicks contractions for a couple of weeks so she initially didn't think much of them, although they did seem worse than usual. Knowing that Annabelle wasn't due for another nine days, and assuming these were just another round of Braxton Hicks, Dad took me to daycare and then went to work.

But the contractions continued, and my Auntie Amy (Mom's sister) was nice enough to drive Mom to see her doctor. At 9:30 a.m., Amy texted Dad and wrote "It's gonna happen today." Mom and Amy headed from the doctor's office to the hospital, getting there a little before 10 a.m. Dad started driving north from Sea-Tac, but he got stuck in traffic and didn't get to the hospital until 10:15. He wasn't worried; Mom's labor lasted about 18 hours when I was born, so he figured he'd get there in plenty of time. In hindsight, it's a good thing he didn't stop for an Egg McMuffin like he was originally planning on doing.

At 10:30, Dad finally found Mom's room, and she was just getting her epidural. Unfortunately, there was no time for those lovely, wonderful drugs to take effect, because Mom had to start pushing at 10:45. A scant seven minutes later, out came Annabelle!

So, if you're scoring at home, Annabelle was born at 10:52 a.m. Dad didn't get to the delivery room until 20 minutes prior to the birth, and Mom hadn't even gotten to the hospital until an hour prior. It seems all those people who say the second child comes much faster weren't joking around. But all's well that ends well!

[Editor's note: Funny story -- after Lauren got her epidural, Amy left the room for a few minutes. She came back in to grab her cell phone, not realizing that Lauren had already started pushing, so she was trapped in there while all this happened. It would be more entertaining to say that she was emotionally scarred and didn't speak for five days after witnessing the carnage, but she actually handled it pretty well. She and Uncle Ben have been a HUGE help in taking care of Annabelle and Eliza at various times so Lauren and I -- mostly Lauren -- are able to take some breaks.]