Theodore David Blondheim

We welcomed our second son into this world at 1:05 p.m. July 20, 2013. He was one of the relatively few children born on his actual due date, largely because I was induced the day before my due date.

Sleeping babies are so precious!

(I had went more than a week over with my first child, and my OBG wanted me induced within a few days of my due date, so we opted for right before to make it easier for my in-laws to watch our older son over the weekend. I know there's all sorts of arguments to be made about inducing for convenience, etc., but I firmly believe things happened for a reason in my case.)

Although I was considered a high-risk pregnancy due to my Crohns disease, my pregnancy was easy and normal in all the right ways. (That means I gained too much weight and ate everything I wanted, which I swore I wouldn't do again the second time around.) I did have additional ultrasounds, which showed no concerns. I was rather excited when I had an ultrasound a few days before my due date with an estimated weight of 8 lb. 3 oz. I thought there was a good chance my second baby would be smaller than my 8 lb. 12 oz. firstborn.

The first captured smile of many smiles ... once we got through the screaming phase that lasted the first 5 months.

My second experience giving birth was easier than my first, as I was relatively comfortable most of the overnight whereas I had been in a lot of pain through the whole night with my first son. My husband and I joked it was a date for us to watch Kung Fu Panda II without toddler interruptions.

Things got more intense the following morning, with the contractions becoming much more painful. I felt like a wild Amazonian woman screaming through them in the oddest positions. Although I do pregnancy just fine, the childbirth part isn't where I'm composed and ladylike. The doctor and nurses kept a close eye on my contractions because the baby's heartbeat dropped when I had contractions. I had hoped to get through without an epidural and was reconsidering it partially for pain. They called for the anesthesiologist, and when he arrived I could barely hold still for him to get me marked. At that point, before the needle was inserted, I said that I couldn't not push.

Obviously all the nurses said I wasn't supposed to be pushing but said they'd check me. Once they checked me, they were calling for the doctor, scrambling to get the room ready and the anesthesiologist was fleeing the room because he didn't want to be the only doctor in the room when the baby appeared. In the midst of the chaos, an oxygen hose got disconnected from the wall, so there was a rushing of oxygen until the staff got it recapped.

My doctor appeared, and our child was welcomed into our world less than 5 minutes (and 3 pushes, one of which I wasn't supposed to do) after I was being prepped for an epidural.

I don't know if I realized at the time how close I was to an emergency C-section. I think had I been able to get the epidural and not been ready to push, that's what would have happened because of the repeated dropping heart rate.

Our little boy was a whopping 9 lb. 3 oz. (so much for that ultrasound being remotely accurate!) and 21 inches, the same length as his brother. But what wasn't the same was the fact that he was blue. His heart rate kept fluctuating because his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and kept choking him each time I had a contraction. He was still breathing and pinked up some right away when they got the cord off his neck. I kept calling him a Smurf baby, but the doctors and nurses didn't seem too concerned. He did fine on all his Apgar scores and became completely normal in color within about 2 days.

Little boy blue.

We had picked the name Theodore for a boy (and Sierra Anne for a girl), largely after Teddy Roosevelt. We were undecided on middle name when we entered the hospital. My husband wanted David, named after himself and his father. I wanted Michael, named after my dad, particularly since we had no part of names from my side of the family. As we were filling out the paperwork, I conceded to my husband with the agreement that my family's names would be included in our third.

We took him home from the hospital in the 0-3 outfit (as there was no way newborn would have fit him) and welcomed our Teddy Bear into our family.

This little boy gets lots of bear clothes because he's Teddy Bear.