During all of this, Harper was right by my side, and she did exactly as she was told. I strongly feel like God has calmed Harper for my sake more than once in my life. She was back and forth from Nan’s room to the ER and then hopped in the car and continued to stay her calm self at an entirely different hospital. Throughout this day that seemed like it would never end, I had a constant prayer in my head: “God, thank you for not letting me have this baby in Gadsden Hospital. Now please spare me from having it in Birmingham.” My legs were swollen and killing me from all the walking and standing, but I needed to get to Birmingham to see if my grandfather was okay.
When we arrived in Birmingham, G.B. was in a rough place mentally—he was becoming visibly stressed and short-tempered. He kept trying to get up to leave, and I eventually had to ask nurses to come help him stay in the bed. His actions gave me uneasy flashbacks to Josh when we first arrived at Walter Reed. I worried that G.B. would fall and hurt himself if someone wasn’t watching him around the clock. We kept him company way after Harper’s bedtime, and finally we had to hit the road back to Auburn. Harper gave him a big hug and told him to get some rest. I wasn’t sure if that would be the last time I saw G.B. alive. I definitely couldn’t travel anymore after this, or I really would be having a baby in another hospital or, worse, on the road. I made it safely home that night with excruciating pain in my back and legs, but baby number two stayed put another day. There were only ten more days until my due date.
I worried and prayed over my grandparents for several days. Nan progressed to an overnight rehab center, where she was learning how to walk with a walker, and G.B. eventually had a procedure to get his heart valve working the right way. Both were working really hard to get well so they could see the newest great-grandbaby.
We played the University of Alabama at home on my due date, and by this time I was so big I could only wear a sweat suit and Josh’s size 10 shoes on my swollen feet. We beat Alabama, and another day rolled by with no baby. Four days later, this baby was finally ready. On October 12, 2016, I woke up feeling awful. We dropped Harper off with friends and headed to the hospital. I wasn’t in labor yet, but our doctor agreed that it was past time to evict this baby. I checked into the hospital and was put on Pitocin to jump-start my labor. As my labor progressed, I couldn’t help but notice how different the environment was. Josh had a comfortable place to sit, and I was even able to doze off a couple of times. I had the same nurse the whole time, and my doctor checked on me regularly. The focus here was so different. Everyone around me strived to make me comfortable. At Walter Reed for Harper’s birth, Josh was the only one trying to make sure I was not panicking, puking, or passing out.
After about ten hours, it was finally time for this baby to make an appearance! I was calm because I knew what I was doing, but it was also very reassuring when everyone who was supposed to be there even arrived a few minutes early! On my last push, the doctor let the head and shoulders pass, and I was able to reach down and deliver the rest of her body—it was another girl! We named her Payton Ruth Wetzel. Her first name is the Irish derivation of Patrick, Josh’s dad’s name, and my great-grandmother’s maiden name was Patton. Her middle name is after Josh’s great-grandmother.
From conception, Payton showed she would be the child with all the surprises. When we put her on the scale, doctors and nurses looked around at each other, then quickly ordered another scale. Both read the same thing: eight pounds, ten ounces! She was also the complete opposite of her big sister, Harper, who came out with a quiet curiosity about the world around her. Payton was antisocial right off the bat. After Payton’s first forty-eight hours, I think she would have elected to stay in the womb another week or two. She wanted to be held facing the person holding her. She didn’t care much about the rest of the world. She was just there to eat and take naps. After the first three weeks, I learned Payton was not going to be an easy baby. However, I was a much more at ease mother. There was no postpartum depression at all; I seem to have balanced out hormonally much faster. Payton was a high-needs baby—she had to be
