<div style="clear:both;"></div>Bear with me.  This is a long post.  It comes directly from my journal.  I wanted to remember this day, in all its glory and frustation forever.  It is not the funniest or cleverest labor story, but it is my own.

I read so many labor stories when I was pregnant, and the honesty of so many women gave me the strength to face my own labor.  If you are pregnant and are reading this please know that your story will be better, because it is your own.  For now, here is mine.

<p><br />
February 14, 2005</p>

<p>Baby Boy’s due date.  Dear Husband and I go to my OB appointment – I am sure that I am never giving birth.  Dr. S checks me and says that I am dilated “a fingertip”.  We are not impressed.  But then she says that she wants us to come in on Friday for a non-stress test and ultrasound, because the baby will officially be overdue.  She doesn’t think that there will be a problem.  Then she says that we can pick an induction date starting next Monday.  Dear Husband and I are excited, because we think we can pick Baby Boy&#39;s birthday.  </p>

<p>When we check out, we don’t give a thought to the non-stress test and Ultrasound. We are so excited about choosing the birthdate that we tell the receptionist that we will call back when we make a decision.  We ask for the Drs. on call for the week and head home.  Over a lunch of pizza and salad, we decide that 2/22 would be a great birthday.  It is also the first available date since 2/21 is president’s day.  We call the OBGYN and we are all set.  It is hard to believe.</p>

<p>February 18, 2005</p>

<p><br />
9:00 AM<br />
I had a bad night the night before, but nothing I hadn’t felt before.  We get to the hospital right on time at 9:00 am for the non-stress test.  On the way to the testing room, a woman was staring right at my huge belly and tells her husband “that baby is on its way”.  As we get to the testing room I think about what she said and wondered who made her the expert.  People can be so nosy.  At the fetal test site they hook me up to the fetal monitor and to the contraction monitor.  Baby’s heartbeat sounds great.  Apparently, I am contracting every 7-10 minutes.  I don’t feel anything other than Braxton-Hicks contractions.  It can’t possibly be so easy.  Dear Husband and I stare at each other for the 40 minutes of the test.  He is sitting at a desk, like a professor and I am hooked up to these machines.  He kept making jokes and making me laugh.  I was convinced that the “contractions” were actually the machine measuring me laughing, but I don’t tell the nurse.  She says baby looks relaxed, my blood pressure is perfect and I am contracting.  OK, whatever.  We go to the Dr’s office for the ultrasound.  </p>

<p>10:50 AM<br />
We are 10 minutes late for the ultrasound.  They make us wait.  And wait.  Another patient in the waiting room overhears our conversation and loudly tells us about her two children, and who delivered them.  The Dr. we had scheduled the induction with was her favorite, so Dear Husband and I are feeling good about Tuesday.</p>

<p>It seems like so long ago when we went in for the first ultrasound, and I remember how intimidating the technician was. When we finally get called in by the ice queen, I wonder about all the bad news she has to keep to herself.  I am glad we are almost done with all the worries of pregnancy.</p>

<p>We are old hats at this ultrasound stuff.  We see the baby’s organs, again.  Ten fingers and ten toes.  I guess we don’t have to count them in the delivery room.  She doesn’t say much, but tells us that the baby should be about 7-8 lbs.  The ultrasound is done, and she tells us to wait outside.</p>

<p>We go back to the waiting room, and by now it is 11:30.  Dear Husband makes a call to his office, and tells a colleague that we are at the OBGYN.  The colleague tells him that his wife had low amniotic fluid at 36 weeks and that they were forced to deliver the baby that same day.  When Dear Husband tells me the story I am not really listening because I am getting hungry.  I actually start daydreaming about my favorite lunch – pulled pork sandwiches.  YUM.  I start scheming, thinking of ways to use my pregnancy to guilt Dear Husband into buying me lunch.  My dreams of barbecue get interrupted when a nurse I have never seen before calls us in.  She shuffles us into a room, closes the door and tells us that Dr. Beatty has looked at the ultrasound results and that we have to have the baby today.  Dear Husband and I are stunned and say nothing.  The nurse just looks at us and smiles.  I finally ask her why.  She says that the amniotic fluid is too low and that the baby needs to come out today.  Oh, and I am not allowed to leave the hospital.  No sandwiches for me.  I am glad that we packed the hospital bag, but I am kicking myself because I was going to take it with us this morning, just in case.  Damn, I should listen to my intuition more.</p>

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<p> 12:00 p.m.</p>

<p>We walk to the maternity floor (5th).  It hardly seems true.  Dear Husband holds my hand and kisses me in the elevator – and I remember when we toured the floor back during our childbirth class in December.  We walk to the reception and check in.  We make nervous little jokes with the person checking us in – ha ha!  We forgot out bags! She ignores us and checks us in a little too efficiently for my taste.  Everything is happening so fast.  She even has a copy of my Labor Plan, and I am a bit embarrassed by it.  What did I write?  Will the Dr. and nurses laugh at what I asked for, and how naïve was I when I wrote it!  Then the put the wristband on me, and I am officially delivering this baby!  I wanted to give birth so badly, but now I am not so sure that I am ready.</p>

<p>1:00 p.m.</p>

<p><br />
So I am in the triage room.  It is a nice room with a flat screen TV, baby monitor and a window where we can see the snow falling.  Dear Husband settles me into the bed, the nurses hook me up to the baby monitor, and I sit there and wait for him to go home and get our bags.  I make a couple of phone calls - my parents are frantically trying to get my mom to the airport for her 4:00 p.m. flight, and I really hope that she makes it to the delivery.  I call my friend AL and tell her the story.  She wants to know everything, and I very nonchalantly tell her -it’s nothing, really!  I can see the contractions and they are not that bad.</p>

<p>2:00 p.m.<br />
Dear Husband is back and has some lunch.  I am allowed to have a piece of toast.  I am getting bored.  The nurses keep coming in and out and Dr. D checks me.  I remember that when I had the amnio done by her, Dear Husband and I drove home and we said we hoped she delivered our baby.  We liked her presence, she is a large lady with lots of lipstick and personality.  I am happy that she is the Dr., at least she is funny.  The nurse, however, was not very friendly and my attempts to engage her in conversation were for nothing.  </p>

<p>3:00 p.m.</p>

<p>Not much is happening.  I am watching CNN.  No major news happening, so I can’t tell Baby Boy that he was born on a major newsday.  He was the biggest thing that day, the biggest thing in my life so far.  Of course I didi not know it yet, but I had a feeling.</p>

<p>4:00 p.m.</p>

<p>Dr. D comes in and says that she needs to give me a little something to push this along.  I am actually excited, as by now I am beginning to doubt the baby would be born today.  Next thing I know, she is done.  I ask her, “where is the gel?”  She says, “we used a little pill not the gel, works like a charm” with a huge grin on her face.  I am upset because I had read on the internet the night before that the pill is used by hospitals because it is cheap, and that it is not as safe as the gel!  But it is too late now.  I take a deep breath and start hating Dr. D.  How dare she use this chemical without telling me!  It is my first lesson on giving up control during the delivery.  Then I remind the nurse and Dr. that I needed penicillin.  Dr. D. tires to argue with me, but I am firm.  It had been drilled into my head by my regular Doctor.  She checks some paperwork and tells me I am right.  Being right feels so good I almost forget how mad I am that she used the pill to induce me.</p>

<p>5:00 p.m.</p>

<p>I have memorized the contractions on the monitor.  I confirm with my father that my mom is on the plane.  I hope she makes it to the delivery.</p>

<p>6:00 p.m.</p>

<p>Bad news.  The nurse comes in and tells us that the Dr. thinks its best if we go home.  I don’t want to go.  I am afraid that if I go home I won’t recognize labor.  I want Dr. D to deliver the baby, not Dr. S.  I ask for the Dr..  She comforts me and promises that she will be there until 7:00 AM the next morning.  OK, I say I will go home, but can I have dinner?  She says “sure, but if I was you I would have some wine and relax.”  We gather all our bags, I get out of my comfy gown and we head home disappointed.  Then it hits me that this is my last chance to indulge in some pregnancy cravings.  I tell Dear Husband that I want Pad Thai for dinner.  He asks me if I’m sure, but he wisely decides not to mess with an induced woman.  He heads out to Thai Thai and I call some of my friends to let them know that nothing is happening.  I remember telling AL, “this is easy!”</p>

<p>7:00 p.m.</p>

<p>We have the best tasting Pad Thai I’ve ever had.  </p>

<p>8:00 p.m. </p>

<p>I get in the shower to relax.  The hot water feels really good, and I spend a good half hour in there.  Dear Husband checks in on me periodically.  I just let the hot water rain down my back, and I get out only because I start to feel really tired.</p>

<p>8:30 p.m.</p>

<p>I feel cramps.  I am not sure if it is labor or what.  They feel different.  I sit down on the guest bed and try to breathe through them.</p>

<p>9:00 p.m.</p>

<p>The pain is getting worse, and we realize that we have not idea how to time contractions.  I have read everything on labor and I neglected to read up on that.  We get on the internet, and find out that you time from the beginning of one to the beginning of the other.  According to that, they are 3 minutes apart.  That can’t be right.  I would be on a delivery table if that was true.  I do not want to give birth at home.  I want to go to the hospital.  But I am afraid that they will send me home, because I was able to speak through the contractions.</p>

<p>9:30 p.m.</p>

<p>I tell Dear Husband we need to go to the hospital, but we decide to call the Dr..  When she calls back, I almost start crying.  She says, so calmly I could kill her - just get back here.  Thank God the hospital is only 10 minutes away.</p>

<p>9:45 p.m.</p>

<p>The drive to the hospital was rough.  At least it wasn’t snowing, which was one of my biggest fears all along.  But the road Dear Husband took was bumpy, and I was mad at him for that.  Like it was his fault.  I look at the clock in the car - it says 10:00 p.m.  My mom is scheduled to arrive at 11:30.  I hope she makes it, but I am not so sure.</p>

<p>10:30 p.m.</p>

<p>I go to the same triage room, with a much nicer nurse this time.  She hooks me up to the monitor, and yep, I am in active labor.  I am also 3 cms dilated - yay!  I tell them that I need to go the bathroom.  Another one of my fears about labor was losing control of my bowels in the bathroom.  I go the bathroom - everything comes out.  The contractions get worse.  I don’t know what is labor pain and what is bathroom pain.  I can hear the nurse joking with Dear Husband that I may give birth in the bathroom.  Not funny, not funny at all.  Then I have to throw up and throw up in the sink.  Oh God, this is not easy.  I regret the Pad Thai.  Noodles are all over the sink, my face, my throat.  I start to clean the sink and call out for Dear Husband.  The nurse sees me and her face tells me that this is it.  Dear Husband takes our stuff to our labor and delivery room (room 12) and I stay the behind with the nurse.  She tries to get me to walk and I start to panic and wince in pain.  She stopped me, looked me in the eyes and told me “Relax.  Breathe through the contraction.”  It was an order more than a suggestion, but I loved her for this.  I got myself together and two nurses and Dear Husband walked me down the hall to the LDR room for the longest walk of my life.  However, the breathing helps.</p>

<p>11:00 p.m.</p>

<p>My LDR room is beautiful.  It has a hot tub!  I am excited that I got one of the nice rooms.  Also, it seems that my mom’s flight has landed.  It seems that she will make it after all.  My nurse is a really sweet girl named Katie.  I breathe through my contractions, and everything seems under control.  She asks me what do I want to do.  I want to get in the hot tub.  I asked for it, I got it, and I am going to use it.  She starts running the water, which takes a while.  She asks me if I want an epidural, and I said not yet.  I really think I can handle it, so far.  She reminds me that there is no need to be a martyr.</p>

<p>11:30 p.m.</p>

<p>Katie and Dear Husband are in the middle of undressing me for the hot tub when my mom walks in the room.  I am naked in all my pregnant gloriousness, and I could not care less.  I don’t think my mother has seen me naked since I was 10, but she pretends not to notice God bless her heart.  She looks stylish in her red sweater.  I am happy to see her, but happier to get in the water.  The water feels so good, it is steamy and bubbly, and Dear Husband and my mom stay in the room with me.  Katie checks my signs and leaves us alone.  My mom says that we should call the nurse.  “Why?”  “So that they can put bubbles in the hot tub.”  Dear Husband finds that very funny, and I am mortified.  No, Mom, this is no joke, there will be NO BUBBLES in my hot tub!</p>

<p>12:00 a.m.</p>

<p>When Katie checks in on me a few minutes later, I tell her that the hot tub feels divine.  After she leaves I start getting hot.  I see Dear Husband and my mom in her red sweater in the steamy room and I wonder how they can take the heat.  I’m glad I’m naked.  Then a thought hits me.  I may not be feeling pain, but what will happen when I get out?</p>

<p>When Katie comes back I ask her, and she looks at me like, it will hurt.  I want to get out of the tub.  Everybody helps me get out like the big, wet whale that I am.  As they dry me off I feel like Cleopatra.  But as my skin cools off, the pain starts.  Oh the pain.  It was bad.  I get nauseous.  I get into the robe as quickly as possible.  I ask for the birthing ball.  The birthing ball had felt so good in Labor class.  I sit on the ball, holding on to the foot of the bed, rocking my pelvis back and forth.  Dear Husband is massaging my back, just like we had practiced, and it felt so good.  Except when the contractions come.  Every time they come I feel like I am going to throw up.  Every contraction feels like my body is being twisted right down the center.  Every one of them makes me lightheaded and I feel like I am going to pass out.  My head is pressed against the foot of the bed and I can’t lift it.  I turn my head sideways and ask Katie if they could check me.  Getting on the bed was pure torture.  She checked me and said I was 5 cm.  I get back on the ball, trying to remember to breathe through them.  I remember that transition, the difficult part, starts at 7 cms.  I ask her how long does she think it will take me to dilate fully.  She says that since it has taken me 2 hours to get from 3 to 5, I should be ready to push in 5 hours.  Five hours! of this...and THEN pushing?  I see my life, literally fly before my eyes.  I am not strong enough, there is no way I can take this.  I can’t even lift my head of the side of the bed.  I start considering the epidural and for some reason I feel guilty.  Then I remember her saying “there is no need to be martyr”.  I’m surprised to hear myself asking for the epidural.  It took everything I had to ask for it, but as soon as I asked for it I felt better.  Until the next contraction.</p>

<p>1:45 a.m. </p>

<p>At this point I am not so sure at what time the anesthesiologist came by with his epidural.  I frankly lost track of time.  By the time he came I was shaking with each contraction.  He looked awfully young.  He made me sign so many papers that it made me nervous.  But I signed away.  This better be good.</p>

<p>2:00 a.m.</p>

<p>I can feel him prepping my spine, feeling for the right spot.  I can see Dear Husband and my mother, and they look horrified.  I am determined to get this epidural thing right.  It is so hard to keep my back straight, because my body shook with each contraction, but I don’t want him to miss.  He misses.  The needle sting sends a metallic feeling up my spine, all the way to my mouth.  I can feel that for days.  After a few tries, he finally gets the tube in.  I lie down and wait for relief.  Dear Husband and my mother look like they need one too.</p>

<p>2:15 a.m.</p>

<p>The nurse asks me how I feel.  I tell her that the pain is dulling, but I could still feel the contractions.  Was this normal?  She said no, and introduced me to my new friend, the little clicker that allowed me to control the amount of medicine I was getting.  I start to click away.</p>

<p>2:30 a.m.</p>

<p>I feel so much better.  We are joking a bit.  Life is good.  The nurse checks me and voila! I am 10 cms dilated.  I refuse to push.  I tell her that I need to sleep.  She agrees to give us an hour since the baby looks ok.  We settle down for the night.  Lights out.</p>

<p>3:15 a.m.</p>

<p>There is a commotion.  The lights are turned on.  This strange blond nurse starts barking orders and looking at the monitor.  What is going on?  The baby’s heart rate went way down.  I don’t like this woman.  Where is sweet Katie?  Katie, apparently had gotten sick.  Nurse Betty was in charge.  Great.  We all get into position - Dear Husband grabs the foot on my left, my mom the foot on my right.  She tells me to push when I feel the urge.  Strangely enough, I know what she means.  I start pushing.  Soon, they all insist they can see hair.  This is easier than I thought.  I ask Dear Husband to turn on the classical music station.</p>

<p>4:20 a.m.</p>

<p>After periods of pushing and resting, pushing and resting, I notice that the epidural needle is low.  I alert the nurses immediately.  I am not about to feel that pain again!</p>

<p>4:30 a.m.</p>

<p>At some point during the pushing I hear a distinct popping sound.  “There goes your bag of waters!”  And I was so afraid it would break in public!</p>

<p>5:00 a.m.</p>

<p>I push and push and push.  Everybody insists that the baby is moving.  I refuse to have the mirror.  We try all different positions:  on my knees, on on side, then the other.  I hold on to the bar.  I find lying on my back the most comfortable.  I remember the beautiful music, and the voice of the morning DJ.  I think about how life is going on outside this room, and how the most amazing thing is happening and people right now are sleeping, or getting ready for work.</p>

<p>5:45 a.m</p>

<p>Everybody has bonded.  Dear Husband’ job is to count to ten for me.  The nurses and Dear Husband and my mom are all talking.  I have to interrupt them a few times - “guys?  Hello?  could we please push?”</p>

<p>The nurses are amazed that Dear Husband can speak five languages.  He starts counting in Russian, German, French.  My mom takes over in Spanish.  I push and push, and I don’t really look at anybody so that I can focus.</p>

<p>6:15 a.m.</p>

<p>Dr. D comes in.  I try to push real hard for her.  Nothing seems to be really changing.  In fact, my contractions have slowed down.  They think it is because my body is tired of pushing.  They insert pitossin in my IV.  I am in no more pain than before.  It feels good to push.  I can hear Dear Husband counting, his hand is holding mine and it is so strong.  I know this baby is coming.  I ask for water, please.  The nurse comments on how polite I still am, after the night I’ve had.  I think to myself, it has not been a bad night at all.  Everything feels perfect.</p>

<p>6:45 a.m.</p>

<p>OK we are really pushing and counting.  I hear something about “I’ll need the vacuum”  I am too focused to care.  This baby is coming out now!  I push with all my strength.  I feel the Dr. insert the vacuum, carefully separating my lips.  I feel the vacuum hold on to the baby’s head.  I feel the Dr. tugging, and I try to help her along.  I feel the baby move down the birth canal, almost like he needed to round the corner and then it was easy.  I feel his head is out.  I take a deep breath.  I know that the Dr. is clearing out his passages.  I can hear my mom saying “there’s the baby, there’s the baby!”  I close my eyes really tight.  I don’t feel pain, and I am afraid that if I look I will feel pain.  I do however, feel like I am stretched to the limit.  I feel like I am delivering the world.  I try to relax.  Why are they taking so long!</p>

<p>6:55 a.m.</p>

<p>Then she finally says I can push, and I do.  There is silence.  Then I hear his cry.  My eyes are squeezed shut.  I can hear the baby and my mother crying.  I can’t believe my baby is resting on my chest.  Someone says that he is beautiful.  He feels so wet, almost soggy.  He is warm.  I open my eyes.  My God, he is so big!  He is looking at me.  I look at Dear Husband, he looks at the baby and starts to cry.  I am so in love with Dear Husband at this moment.  That is the moment I KNEW he would be the greatest father.  We held hands and looked at our baby, Baby Boy.  Baby Boy looked up at me, squinting against the light.  He was so incredible, so unique.  I could never have imagined how beautiful a baby could be.  </p>

<p>My mom and the Dr. try to get Dear Husband to cut the cord.  He declines.  They insist. I scream for the first time in this whole experience “leave him alone!”  My mom gets to cut the cord, and Dear Husband Baby Boy and I continue to bask in the moment.  Life is perfect.  Nothing is more perfect than this.  Nothing.</p>

<p>And he’s so punctual.  He was born right before Dr. D’s and nurse Betty’s shifts ended at 7:00 a.m.<br />
<br />
They leave Baby Boy, Dear Husband and me alone for 20 minutes.  I remember thinking he must be so healthy because no one is trying to take him away.  I inspect him.  He is so hairy, hair on his ears, his back.  He has specks of blood everywhere.  He is so alert.  And he smells so good!  The  family has just grown.  But not nearly as much as my heart.</p>

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