I’d like to introduce you to my adorable little son, E.M.
(Guess his name in the comment box below!)
Even though my due date was July 21 (remember, the same due date as my baby girl 2 years ago!) I knew I was going to have him on July 8. I told EVERYBODY that we were having him on that day, but no one quite knew how I could know what day he would be born. Especially when it’s not really us who’s in charge of the whole “I want to have a baby today” bit.
But regardless, I knew it would be July 8. After all, my daughter’s birthday is July 7, and I certainly couldn’t have him BEFORE her birthday (he would only be 38 weeks then, and I wanted a healthy baby), I couldn’t have him ON her birthday (who wants to share their one and only special day?), so it seemed right that I have him AFTER her birthday. But, if you’ve known any pregnant lady, you would know that we’re not very patient. When we cross that 36 week mark, we’re DONE. D-O-N-E. DONE. So the only day that seemed doable in my frazzled mind was July 8. I must have engrained that date in my psyche so far that my body had no choice but to go into labor that morning.
A labor to remember
Typically when I go into labor, I have uncomfortable contractions every 3-5 minutes, go into the hospital, get admitted, and then have my epidural set right as they start getting painful. My past deliveries have been a walk in the park, and quite enjoyable. I learned real quick that this delivery was NOT typical.
I woke up at 5am on July 8 with contractions. They were painful, but still 10 minutes apart. Thinking that the contractions were odd–and certainly not real labor, as they were so far apart–I tried to go back to sleep. By the time 6am rolled around, they started coming more frequently and were more painful. I jumped in the shower, knowing that there was no way I was going to have a baby without getting ready first! Finally at 7am I woke up my husband, said, “We’re having a baby today babe – we got to go!” and we raced off to the hospital. The contractions hurt… bad… but they were still 7 minutes apart. Certainly I wasn’t close to having a baby, I thought.
We made it to the hospital by 8am, and after I was checked, they rushed me into a labor & delivery room. They called the doc and let him know I’d be delivering within the hour. I was FRIEKING out. “What do you mean within the hour!?!” I thought, “If the baby comes too fast I won’t have time to get an epidural!” In between contractions I emphatically demanded that I HAD to have an epidural. In my mind, there was no way I could deliver without one… the contractions hurt SOOO bad… and were coming every 2-3 minutes by that time.
I. Want. An. Epidural. NOW!
Nurses started flying around, putting all sorts of monitoring devices on me, setting an I.V., and tracking down the anesthesiologist. I couldn’t focus. I didn’t even know what the room looked like. I couldn’t breathe correctly. I never took birthing classes because I never thought I needed them. I had never felt such pain. I heard screaming inside my head and realized it was ME screaming. But I didn’t care. It was the only way I could get through the pain.
Finally, at 8:30 the anesthesiologist came in to set the epidural. It took another 20 minutes before my legs went numb.
Relief. That’s all I could feel.
And gratitude. So grateful that I could enjoy the rest of the delivery without pain.
The delivery came before I knew it, though, and at 9:13 A.M., my sweet son was born.
He was perfect. Ten fingers. Ten toes. And a head full of dark brown hair. Quite the opposite from our youngest daughter who has a mop of bouncing blonde curls and just turned 2 years old the day before.
Guess his name in the comment box below. I’ll give you a hint: His initials are: E.M.