His First Story

Now that I have two nights of decent sleep the kind that you think a ten-pounder would afford you, I wanted to write down baby David's first story (at least the first one that has happened here). Baby David was due on Tuesday, March 1st. I know I told everyone Monday, February 28th. That was my original due date and when they changed it later on in my pregnancy if I would tell people the March date they would say it seemed so far away and if I used the February date everyone thought it was just around the corner, so I stuck with that one. The doctor thought Baby David would be early though because he was measuring big on my last ultrasound and things were progressing. The last week of pregnancy, I had contractions every night and they were so strong and went on for so long one night that I got up, showered, packed my bag and was prepared to go to the hospital. Then they fizzled. Unlike my girls, I was getting impatient with the waiting. I felt it was his time to come.

The doctor had mentioned breaking my water to get the ball rolling earlier, but I didn't take him up on the offer. I tried the usual suspects (long walks, spin, pedicures and yada, yada, yada) to make it happen on my own but nothing. My mom arrived and we just sat around waiting. I called the doctor and said I was ready for plan B on my due date. He told me to come into the hospital the next morning at 6am so he could break my water. At 4:30am that day, the hospital called and told me not to come as there were too many delivering moms. Later, my doctor rescheduled me for the next day at the same time. Again, they canceled on me citing being short-staffed (scary). I visited the doctor that day and was dilated to a five. He told me to meet him at the hospital at 5:30pm that night.

My mom, Dave and I loaded up and we dropped off the girls off at Aunt Shari's and Uncle Mark's house on the way. We registered and the doctor arrived and broke my water at 7:30pm. When they tested me at the hospital it turned out I was having contractions all along. After my water broke things started slowly, not like Kennedy. So slowly in fact that Dave and my mom ordered Indian food. Somewhere between their Saag Paneer and Tikki Marsala, things started moving.

I decided, like I had with the girls, that I wasn't going to have an epidural, but this time it was different. The idea of the epidural never even entered my mind. With the girls I always thought, "If things get bad enough, I can...", but with Baby David I was really focused. Dave and I had practiced our breathing techniques and I had been quietly preparing mentally and spiritually for a few weeks. I felt competent, quiet and focused. I just knew I could do it this time. Dave came and got in on the action to help me breathe when things started getting rough and my mom was on hand to offer support and perfectly predict the labor and its duration. We all worked pretty hard over the next few hours and when my contractions were about a minute a part, Dave went and got the nurse to check me. She came in and said I was at an eight or nine. I wrapped my mind around laboring another 30 to 60 minutes and knew I could do it. She then left the room and, as my mom predicted, she came right back with the doctor. He told me I could start pushing as soon as he checked me.

I feel like the laboring part of labor is all about me, Dave and my mom. I never remember the doctor or the nursing staff being a part of this, but the pushing part, by then I can't remember my name and I really look to them for guidance. My doctor is a great guy but not very forceful so this time, my focus went on my nurse, Dana, who gave me some great instructions to help me remember how to push. Honestly, it is crazy how you can't remember anything when the pain gets to that level. It takes everything to stay in control while contracting and pushing just seems impossible. I also remembered the mantra my neighbor, Rose, passed on to me before Kennedy was born. She told me to repeat to myself over and over "Perfect love casteth out fear" (1 John 4:18). In this moment I used it before every push. It really helped me pull my courage together to muster up more work. After five or six good pushes, my little man was coming on the scene and before I knew it he was in my arms, all ten pounds eleven ounces of him.

The gratitude, the peace after the fight, the stillness even amid the bustling hospital room was really overwhelming. Checking every finger and toe and comparing his looks to his big sisters while holding him close was perfect, not to mention looking into his father's proud eyes. Before I had kids, I always marveled that mom's could remember every detail of their birth story, but I get it now. I get that these moments make and indelible mark on your soul. His first never forget moment.

And then this is what we got to stare at all the next day.