To make a short story long...

The birth--it's long, but I'm writing down the details for me:

I can't decide if my labors are fast or the longest labors ever. After three kids, you'd think I'd know when labor starts and frankly, I'm still not sure. I start getting Braxton Hicks contractions (painless, irregular contractions, though they get pretty regular for me) in the second trimester, and they slowly get more uncomfortable as the pregnancy progresses. They were pretty regular in the evenings the week before we closed on our house, but after we closed, they eased up for a few days. As I mentioned in the last post, at my appointment on June 12, my doctor said I could go any day. By Friday, I felt like I was having hour-long contractions. These continued over the weekend, and after sweating it out in the bathroom at church I was ready to find the anesthesiologist in our ward and ask for the epidural right then. Then it passed, and I felt fine again.

I woke up Tuesday (June 19) determined to have a fun day with my girls, since my doctor was REALLY sure I could go any day now. We went and got donuts, took them to a friends house, ate, laughed, and had a great time. The scheduling nurse called and I turned down the induction--we'll let him come when he's ready. I was having irregular contractions all day, but not bothering to time them, since I could walk and talk through them. They started getting more uncomfortable as the afternoon progressed, but dangit, I was determined to have a fun pizza dinner with Mabes and Annabelle! We did, but I was feeling pretty crappy by the time dinner was over. I took them upstairs, showered them, and Dave put Mabes to bed while I put Annabelle to bed. I had a pretty strong contraction while singing to her (who knew "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" could feel so long?), but hey, I could still sing, so it must not be a real contraction, right?

Just in case this was the start of labor, I decided to take a shower. "They" say that can slow or stop contractions if it's not real labor, so I figured it was worth a shot. I felt great...until another contraction would hit. But maybe they're spreading out. I crashed on the couch and emailed the friends that had volunteered to watch the girls, in the off chance this was labor. I was not convinced. I called my mom. I was timing them, and they'd be 5 minutes apart for a while, then they'd go 6 or 7. And then 4, but then back to 5 or 6. Besides, I really didn't want to bother anyone in the middle of the night, and I didn't want to drive all the way uptown to be told it was just false labor. I was hoping the contractions would die down for the night, resume the next morning, and then my doctor (who wasn't on call that night) could deliver the baby.

I went to bed at 11, and slept off and on between contractions. Finally, I got up around 1:45 to use the bathroom and after timing a few more contractions, I decided that even though they were 4-6 minutes apart, they were hurting enough that I should probably go in. Then my water broke. I just said, "Dave! We've gotta go!" and he was up. I called Julie to let her know and she said she'd be right over. I got dressed, called the doctor's answering service, and threw things in my bag as I answered the nurse's questions. That call took ridiculously long. She asked when labor started...um, I don't know. But I hurt now. She put me on hold to call the on call doctor. At this point, I just wanted to go outside and get some fresh air and just kept thinking, "don't throw up in your front yard...don't throw up in the neighbor's yard--you haven't met them yet!" Dave started the car and I just collapsed in the front seat with the air blowing on me. Finally, the nurse came back on the phone and said, "Okay, the doctor says you can head in to labor and delivery..." I wasn't waiting for permission, I was calling to tell you I'm on my way! "...is there anything else I can do for you?" "No, I need to go now" I whimpered and hung up. Julie drove up, and I had wanted to give her instructions or a hug and tell her thank you, but I couldn't move. Dave talked to her, though, and she understood.

As we headed off at 2:30, we decided to forego the freeway and head up sidestreets--my GPS said it was faster at 34 minutes. 34 minutes?!?! That sounded like an eternity. But thankfully, at that time of night, lights were in our favor and we were making really good time. I just kept watching the line where it said how many minutes left until the hospital. Focusing on that got me through each contraction, which were probably 2-3 minutes apart at this point, and pressure in my back and tailbone were building. During each contraction, I was praying we'd make it to the hospital in time; during each (short) break, I'd convince myself they were slowing down and maybe I wasn't in real labor yet.

We pulled up in front of the hospital, but had a red light where we needed to turn to get to the parking garage. There was another car and cop on the other side, but as soon as the cop turned the other way, Dave gunned it through the light. I would have kissed him had I been able to move. We made it to the "moms in labor" parking and Dave asked if I wanted to wait while he got me a wheelchair. I said something like "get a wheelchair, but I'm not waiting here!" I staggered out of the car and up the steps to the lobby while Dave grabbed my bag and followed. As soon as we walked in, the security guard got us a wheelchair and started giving Dave directions to L&D on the 8th floor. This suddenly seemed incredibly far away. As I collapsed in the chair, the guard asked how far apart my contractions were ("on top of each other") and if I was feeling the urge to push ("yes!"). He just said, "Okay, I got this" and he quickly took us to the elevator, used his badge to call it immediately, and then practically ran to L&D. When he got to the nurses, he explained and asked what room I was supposed to be in. A nurse there had a gown ready for me, and it didn't occur to me to go to the bathroom for privacy (I *think* the security guard left immediately, but I don't really know)--I just stripped in the middle of the room, put the gown on, and curled up on the bed.

They put the monitors on me, one nurse grabbed my left arm to put an IV in (really?!?!), and another nurse (Ashley) came and checked me, "She's fully dilated, +2 station--call the doctor. Allison, just breathe through the contractions." This was all too familiar; I had to breathe through contractions for 15 minutes with Annabelle and it hurt. I was still in disbelief that it was actually happening, so I asked if it was too late for the epidural. The nurse just laughed and said, "The baby will be here way before the anesthesiologist!" At least there was hope the pain would be over soon. I was curled up on my right side breathing through another contraction, but when the next one hit, I said "I can't stop him--I feel like he's coming out now!" IV nurse told me to hold still, I wanted to yell "You hold still!" but didn't have the energy. Ashley said, "Okay, Allison, go ahead and push...lift up your leg..."(I was still curled in a ball on my right) "push again..." another nurse swooped in, "Here's your baby!" I just stared in disbelief, and looked over at Dave, who had the same look on his face. And IV nurse finally finished placing the IV.

With Ashley, the nurse that delivered him.

As I watched them dry him off, cut his cord, and remark on what a beautiful healthy baby he was, I was amazed at how much better I felt. The contractions had stopped, pressure was gone, and I just felt amazing. One of the nurses took the monitors off me, looked at the contraction/heartrate printout and laughed--"We put this on you as soon as you got in here at 2:59, and he was born at 3:02 am! I think this is the shortest printout I've seen!" He weighed in at 9 lbs, 8 oz and is 21" long. He has dark hair (for now; both my girls did, too), chubby cheeks, and is absolutely perfect.