Dani Jean my Beauty Queen

     My pregnancy with Dani Jean,  baby girl number one, started out like all the others.  I've always said, when I have heartburn that's as good as a positive pregnancy test.  Heartburn, check!  So, that was the first sign.  And I was extremely tired.  But with three boys, ages three, six, and eight, I suppose that was to be expected.
     Just to confirm what I already knew, I went to the store and bought the cheapest pregnancy test I could find.  I had learned in the past it didn't matter if you paid $1.00 at The Dollar Tree or $12.00 at Walgreens, they all work the same.  You pee on the stick, wait two minutes, you're pregnant, or you're not. Well, I was!  Yaaay!!!
     With each pregnancy we would say, "let's wait until we're past the crucial stages, then we can start telling our family and friends."  Who were we kidding?  I took the test on a Friday and Curtis made the announcement to our church family on Sunday.  When you're excited, you just have to share it!
     As soon as word got out that we were expecting baby number four, the questions started flying.  "When are you due?"  "What are you having?"  "What are you naming her?"  "Is that short for Danielle?"  "Like the boy name?"   "How much weight have you gained?"  "Are you sure you're not having twins?"  "Can I touch your belly?"  And everyone's favorite?  "Don't you know what causes that?"
     I swore to Curtis I was either going to start carrying a sign around or have a t-shirt made that said, "August 23rd...Girl...Dani...No, it's just Dani...Yep, just like the boy name, except with an "I"... None of your business...Nope, not twins...Touch away, and would you like to poke my belly button while you're at it?  It's only slightly sore and stretched to the point of no return...And YES I know exactly what caused this! Do you want me to explain it to you in graphic detail in front of your three children and your elderly grandmother?  No?  I didn't think so."
     I attended my monthly doctor visits, took my prenatal vitamins, got in as much rest as possible, and counted down the weeks until we would meet our baby girl.  
     It was time for my fasting glucose test.  Ugh...I. HATE. THAT!  For those of you who have never experienced this.  You need to!  First of all, you go into the hospital, fasting for at least eight hours and the nice nurse offers you either a lemon lime or orange flavored sugary drink. And they encourage  you to drink it as fast as you can.  Sounds harmless enough, right?  WRONG!  The positive is, they keep these drinks in cute little glass bottles in a very cold refrigerator.  The negative, it's like drinking a very thick, syrupy, sweet bottle of pop, on an empty stomach.  That's never a good idea.
     I chose orange.  After all, I love Fanta!  I can do this!  WRONG again!  After getting about half of the bottle down, I had to make a break for the bathroom and throw up.  I came back to the waiting room, told the nurse that I didn't keep it all down and she said, "I'm sorry honey, you'll have to start over.  It has to be a full bottle."  "Let's go with the lemon lime this time."  That was a much better choice.
     This test took three hours.  I took a book.  I took a nap.  I visited with other patients.  After all, I can make a friend no matter where I'm at.  Then I went home.
     I got a phone call a few days later telling me that my sugar levels were elevated and I would have to go back to the hospital for the six hour test.  Are you kidding me?!  There's always a silver lining.  That's six hours of nothing but sitting on my butt, reading, drinking me some lemon lime delicious-ness and no little boys using me as a jungle gym.  I could deal with this.  The nurse assured me that my levels were just barely elevated so this second test was only precautionary.  That's a relief because if I'm irritable with sugar, you don't even want to know what I would be like if you took it away!
     Guess what?  They took it away.  My second glucose test was elevated as well.  Little Debbie is like a family member at our house.  She's like the sister I never had.  Not only was I sad for myself but I felt like I was betraying Deb. (That's what I like to call her)
     They scheduled me right away to see a dietary specialist to tell me all of the cans and can not's of gestational diabetes.  I was thinking, how hard can this be?  I can not have sugar...the end.  Who knew that everything that tastes good, has sugar in it or has something in it that will turn to sugar?  Oh my gosh!  My poor baby was going to starve to death!
     "Mrs. Coffee, you need to avoid anything white.  Potatoes, breads, pastas...anything else that tastes good."  And then there were the obvious things, "no candy bars, pop, cake, pie, ice cream..."  As her voice trailed off and I grew dizzy,  I thought, you might as well just rip my heart out and stomp on it!  I left the office that day feeling very depressed and hungry!
     And so, my new lifestyle began.  Eating more healthy, doctors visits every week, including ultrasounds and stress tests.  They were monitoring the baby to make sure she didn't grow too big too fast.  That's pretty common in diabetic pregnancy's.  This was my routine for about two months.
     Then the time had finally come.  We had some friends over for dinner, Matt & Amanda Ogle and their girls Gracie and Callie.  I cooked, we visited, laughed, talked about old times, told funny stories, the kids played.  We had a good time.
     I had had Braxton Hicks contractions off and on all day and they continued throughout the evening.  I didn't think much of it.  I've came to realize that the longer you stay home, the less time you have to spend strapped down to that hard hospital bed.  So, I ignored the tightness in my belly and went on about my evening.

Photo taken by Amanda Ogle 12 hours before Dani was born

     Amanda started to notice my discomfort and was timing my "Braxton Hicks."  They were getting more regular and more intense.  She was excited and encouraged me to go to the hospital.  I said, "eh, let's just hang out for a while.  Maybe we'll go later."  I had all kinds of time.  After all, it was still twelve days until my due date.
     Matt and Amanda left around 10:00 that night, we headed to Springfield around 10:30.  My contractions had grown a little stronger and were now 6 minutes apart for about four hours.
     They checked me into triage.  The nurse hooked me up to the monitor and my contractions were still going pretty good.  I can't say I was in pain, but I was starting to feel it.  They came in, checked to see if I was dilated and if so, how far.
I was at a 4 1/2.  Yes!  They wouldn't send me home!  I was going to have this baby tonight!
     The nurse said she needed to call Dr. Walker and see what he wanted to do and she'd be right back.  "What he wanted to do?  Seriously?  Let's do this!!!"
     "I'm sorry Mrs. Coffee, but all of our beds in Labor and Delivery are completely full and we have women in the waiting room.  Is there anyway you could get a hotel room in Springfield for the night so you'll be close?"   "What?  If I were a nurse or a doctor, maybe.  But no, I can't get a room."  "Okay Mrs. Coffee, we're going to have to ask you to go home and call at six o'clock in the morning to see if we have any open beds.  "Oh, okay.  No problem.  Let me just put a cork in this thing and I'll be on my way."  Can you believe that?  So, we left.
     I'm sure Curtis would rather have been anywhere at that moment than confined to a small space with me.  But he said for better or worse.  So, at 1:00 a.m. we headed to The Waffle House.  I would show them, if they were going to send me home while I was in active labor, I would just take my diabetic self to The Waffle House, order a big stack of waffles, and eat real, that's right, REAL syrup on my waffles!  Ha!
     At home, around 2:30 a.m., Curtis's head barely hit the pillow before he was snoring.  And that's why I hate his guts!  I paced the floors all night, I took three baths, I packed more things in my hospital bag, I watched the clock and at 6:00 on the dot, I called Labor and Delivery.  They had an empty bed.  Lets book it!  GET UP CURTIS!!!  "How'd you sleep?"  "Just shut up and drive."
     This time, we skipped triage and they put me straight in my room.  After hooking all of the monitors up to me, a nurse came in to see if I had made any progress.  I was now dilated to seven centimeters.  The doctor came in and told me if I wanted my epidural, now was the time.  "If?" Get that man in here, now!
     The anesthesiologists name was Dr. Casenova, I'll never forget that.  He had me sit on the edge of the bed, arch my back, breathe, and do NOT move.  By this point my contractions were on top of each other.  It's not easy to do the above, while in pain and carrying a beach ball around under your gown.  But I did it.        As soon as he was done, he had me lay down.  Dr. Casenova was just getting ready to administer the test dose when I told the nurse, "it's too late.  She's coming out."  Sure enough, there she was.  When you've done that as many times as I have, you don't even need the doctor.  Right after the nurse caught the baby, Dr. Walker came in.
     Anytime a first time mommy asks me if I had epidurals I tell them, yes!   With all but one delivery and I strongly recommend them!  I can't really describe the pain and if I could I'm sure it wouldn't be appropriate so we'll just say, it hurt really reaaalllllyyyy bad!!!  
     She was here.  My beautiful baby girl.  I looked at her perfect little round body then I looked at Curtis and he had this look of shock or maybe fear in his eyes.  My first thought was, "Oh my gosh!  She has a penis! No, she can't be a boy!  Not another one."  Then he said, look at her fingers.  I looked at her little hand and it looked like she had laid on her thumb for a long time and smashed it.  Then we started looking at her other hand and her feet.  Upon further inspection, we discovered that our perfect little baby girl had twelve little fingers and twelve little toes.  Two of her fingers were webbed and two of her toes were webbed as well.
     I know this may not seem like a big deal to some of you.  But when you're looking forward to meeting your precious, perfect, baby.  And they're born and they're not perfect.  It's quite a shock!  Instantly all of things that I could have possibly done to cause this, came flooding back to me.  Like the time I snuck a 3 Musketeers when I really needed something sweet.  Or that I didn't always take my prenatal vitamins because they caused severe constipation.  Or or or or!  I drove myself crazy!
     I'll never forget what Dr. Walker said at that moment.  "You are so blessed.  It's better to have too many fingers and toes than not enough.  Or she could have been born with her heart or her brain on the outside of her body.  Your baby is beautiful and she's going to be just fine."
     Dani was born at 7:30 that morning, they took her for testing and didn't bring her back to me until after midnight that night. I spent most of the time crying and questioning God?  Why?  What could I have done different?  She's going to hate her hands and feet for her whole life.  Then I felt selfish.  It could have been so much worse.  But we never want our children to have to endure any kind of pain.  Or to get made fun of in

any way.  My mind was working overtime.
     Dani went into the first grade this year and she came home last week telling me that someone told her that her hands are "funny looking."  I told her to explain to them that that's how God made her and her hands may not look like theirs but she's pretty and she has great hair! She said, "yeah, you're right. I am pretty."

After 1st surgery.  15 months old.

     God gave Dani the confidence that she's going to need to get through this mean world.  She's quick to tell people that, "she had shurgery and she can't help it."
     We love our little Dani girl and she lights the room up with her smile wherever she goes.
   

After 3rd surgery.  

   
     So, although Dani wasn't born with "10 little fingers and 10 little toes."  She's pretty perfect in my eyes.
   




   

Danis cute little piggy's and thumbs before surgery

   
   
   
   

Dani on Easter with her nasty pink cast.  Gag!

The night before surgery.  She always has a smile.

Danis webbed fingers and extra wide thumb before surgery

After surgery.  Curtis cried the first time Dani was able to lace her fingers through his :)

"Have a girl." they said. "It'll be fun." they said.

     I'll never forget the day I found out I was finally getting my baby girl! It was just another day, another ultrasound.  The Ultrasound Tech, Lynn, had come to know me by name, as this was my fourth pregnancy in seven years.  She had saw me get excited over baby number one being a boy!  I always think it's great when the oldest is a boy.  Then he can protect the other siblings. Seventeen months later when baby number two came along, Lynn got to see the same excitement when it was another boy.  It was only logical that the first two, being so close in age, needed to be the same sex.  They would grow to be best friends.  And, almost three years later, she witnessed me plastering a broad, fake, smile across my face, with big crocodile tears running down my cheeks when she pointed to the screen and said, "look boys, you're getting a baby brother!"
     When ask what you're hoping to have.  Most pregnant women's automatic answer is, "It doesn't matter.  As long as it's healthy."  Me, being the honest person I am, is telling you.  That most pregnant women are LIARS!!!  The very moment we pee on that stick and see a plus sign, we instantly start picturing one or the other. Pink or blue. Of course our number one desire is for a healthy baby.  But coming in close is a healthy baby, in the sex of our choice.
     So, as we left the doctors office that day.  I told Curtis, my husband.  "I don't care if I have to have ten baby's to get a girl.  I WILL have a girl!"  He looked a little scared.  But just like any smart man, he nodded, smiled, and kissed me on the forehead. 
     Baby boy number three, Dustin, was born in December of 2003 and I found out I was pregnant, again, in November of 2005.  I immediately started begging God for a girl.  I was desperate!  I didn't have a sister, every dog or cat we ever owned was a boy, my mom never wore makeup or done other frilly things with me.  I needed something feminine in my life!
     A few months later, in March we were at the ultrasound and Lynn looked at Curtis and said, "Daddy, you're going to want to buy a Winnebago for you and the boys. Cause when sissy gets older you guys won't be able to stand her and mommy one week out of the month."
     YES!!!  Lynn went on to tell us how girls hold grudges.  Even at the early age of three or four years old. Boys get mad and get over it.  But girls get mad and get even.  It's in their DNA.  Curtis was taking this all in, with fear in his eyes.  I was just seeing earrings, hair bows, big lacy dresses, baby dolls...you get the picture.
     So, when we left the doctors office that day, we went straight to the store and bought something pink.  And for the next five months we didn't stop buying pink! 
     August 12, 2006 we had little Ms. Dani Jean Coffee.  She was beautiful!  Of course, all of my babies were, but just look at her.  I instantly just couldn't get enough of her. 
     I DO NOT have a favorite child!  But my instant bond with my baby girl was completely different than it was with my boys.  I don't know if it was because I had waited for her for so long or if it was something else.  But there was definitely something.
     Dani was such a good baby.  She slept good through the night.  She had a very hearty appetite.  All the boys adored her.  She was our world!  The whole family catered to her every need and desire.  We didn't realize at the time the damage that we were doing to our little princess.
     At fifteen months old, Dani had to have surgery on both of her feet and one hand.  (I'll get into that in another blog)  She was in full casts from her hips to her toes and her full arm for five weeks.  She couldn't walk, she couldn't crawl, she couldn't stand, she couldn't hold onto a cup or bottle very easy.  She was basically helpless.

    We should have taken it as a sign that our baby girl was "changing" when she used her cast as a weapon and bloodied one of her brothers' noses.  I made excuses for her.  I mean, look at her.  Wouldn't you be irritable if you were all bound up like that? Yeah, that's what I thought!
     We couldn't wait for the day that she got to get the casts removed.  It was like a countdown to a holiday at our house.  So, we made the trip to St. Louis, to the Shriner's Hospital for Children.  Got the casts off, got some goodies from the nice guys in funny hats :) And headed home.
     Dani slept for most of the four hour drive home.  When we pulled into the driveway, Granny and all the boys were lined up on the porch waiting for our return.  When I got her out of her car seat to take her in, if I didn't know better, I would have sworn they gave us the wrong baby in St. Louis.  Gone was my sweet little "Dani girl" and in her place was this hateful, mean, possibly possessed, animal! 
     "Poor baby.  She's been through so much." said Grandpa. 
Hello!!! What about ME? Your poor baby? Do you not see this child beating the snot out of me? 
"Come to Grandpa sugar."  Gag!
     I'd like to tell you it got better.  But...that would make me a liar.  With three big brothers to do as they're told, when they're told.  It makes getting what you want super easy. They thought her little temper tantrums were "cute."  I tried to tell them that it wouldn't be cute when she was four or five and even less cute at fourteen or fifteen but they didn't listen.
     Fast forward about a year.  Guess what? I found out I was pregnant.  This time...not planned.  I.  Was.  Devastated! 
     After I came out of shock and quit crying.  I started begging God for another boy!  It's funny how time and circumstances change your mind and way of looking at things, huh?  My reasoning was, Dani was our little princess, I wanted her to have all the attention she could get.  She's been through so much and still had more surgeries to go.  She didn't need to have to share that with another girl.
     God does have a sense of humor.  First I couldn't get a girl.  Now I have two!  Meet Dakotah Jo.

Dani and Dakotah couldn't be more different.  God knew what He was doing after all.
     There are days that my girls make me crazy and I'm tempted to lock myself in the bedroom and cry.  But Dakotah has figured out that she can pick my lock with my van keys.  So, that doesn't work.
   Curtis constantly has to tell Dani that "the whole world is NOT a stage!"  She dances and sings down the aisles of Wal-Mart like she's the only person in the world!  It humiliates daddy.  I tell him that if he would just look around, lot's of other little girls do the same thing.  It's just not okay with him. I guess I've learned to pick my battles.  If you're gonna dance, just do it behind me so I don't run over you with my cart.
     Dakotah, on the other hand.  If I take a picture or video of her and she finds out that I put it on Facebook or YouTube, without her approval, she will have a total meltdown in no time flat.  I have to warn family and friends that come over NOT to mention a picture of her that I shared on social networking if they don't want to see a complete transformation!  It is not pretty!
      Even with all of their idiosyncrasies, my girls are so special.  
     Dani has such a heart for others. And at such a young age, she is eager to worship God.  And Dakotah is my little mini me.  She is by my side and does anything and everything that I do and need done.  This is an eye opener.  And makes me strive to be more like Jesus everyday, knowing that I've got little shadows watching my every move.
     So, are boys easier than girls?  In a lot of ways, yes!  But would I trade them?  Not for anything in the world!  

My sweet baby girls

     

Showing their individuality
Dani-the model
Dakotah-the gangster