A year ago this morning I got up at 2 a.m. and went to the bathroom to discover that I had lost my mucous plug. Now, that can mean something or not, but for me it did. I was having contractions and they were pretty regular and those suckers hurt. I was able to go back to sleep from 2-3 and I laid in bed awake from 3-4. At 4 I got up, paid bills, and sent a few emails. At 5 I woke Aaron up to take a walk with me to see if the contractions would stop. They didn’t. At 6 I took a shower to see if the contractions would stop. They didn’t. I decided after my shower that I’d just go outside and work on the deck. Even if they were REAL contractions, I knew I was no where near having a baby anytime soon, considering the Dr. had told me the day before that I wasn’t. By 6.30, I had called the Dr.’s office thinking I’d go in there and get checked because I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to handle the pain of the contractions. I slammed down the phone and was mad because they didn’t open until 9. Aaron strongly suggested calling back and getting the number of the Dr. on call after I couldn’t talk through my next contraction. By around 7, I did. I called her and she told me to go to the hospital. By 8, I went.
(We listened to Norah Jones on the way there. It was very soothing, but now I will forever associate that song with driving to the hospital in the Taxi (my yellow car) while Aaron was really, really hoping that my water wouldn’t break before we got there. I think he thought it would be pretty gross.)
At the hospital, they got me in a room and were going to monitor me. I was not even a 1 and I wasn’t even effaced. UGH. But still, those contractions HURT. I walked for something like 2 hours. They checked me and I was progressing, so they checked me in and I walked some more. Eventually my mom and sis arrived. They walked with me. The nurses at the station quit saying “hi” when I walked by, I walked for so long. I got a shot of stadol (AMAZING) and then had to sit in bed because I think it made me pass out.
(After that, things get pleasantly fuzzy. Like three beers fuzzy. It was NIIIIIIIICE.)
Somewhere along the line, Neal and Ang came to visit. So did Jeanne and Jen. Eventually, my dad arrived. I’m not really clear on the details, but by 3 p.m., I was allowed to have my epidural. (Thanks to that epidural, I didn’t feel a thing the whole time. Nor did I feel my right foot until the afternoon the following day.) Then we waited and waited and waited until I was finally a 10. It took forever. When we finally got to the pushing, Aaron was an amazing coach. (He was amazing throughout, but he was uber amazing during the pushing.) He kept feeding me ice, counting to ten, and adjusting my oxygen. I just kept pushing. And pushing. And pushing. I pushed for two hours and we had to keep threatening c-section and vacuum, but finally, at 11.33 p.m., Liam arrived.
(He was welcomed into the world by Jeanne, Jen, Mom and Heather, in addition to the rest of us in the room. They were tired, but still cheered me on to the big event.)
He arrived all scrunched up and grey instead of pink and he had the biggest cone head I’d ever seen, but I was so glad to finally see him. I believe the first words out of my mouth were, “How big are his balls?” (I have a tendency to say things like that and when no one knows the context, I sound insane…Debb can attest.) Aaron was shocked. The nurse responded, “Big enough,” or something like that. (I only asked because on all of those birthing shows they always talk about how big boys’ testicles are due to the estrogen in their bodies. It’s like they’re trying to make up for it somehow with super testosterone balls. Maybe it would have been better if I would have said testicles instead of balls.)
Anyway, those nurses got him “pinked up” quickly and our lives morphed into what we know today - he peed on Aaron, and was up much of the night. (I got peed on today, and because he’s not feeling well, he was up much of the night. I actually got less sleep last night than I did a year ago.)
Honestly though, I wouldn’t trade him for anything. He is the sweetest little guy. He gives me hugs, smiles that toothy hillbilly grin and brings me books. I just melt every time.
Happy Birthday, Sweet Liam. I am so glad that you are here to brighten all of our lives with yours.
