Where were we? Ah yes. Thursday – the 4th day. My arch nemesis arrives on scene…. And action.

We had met this particular midwife on a few occasions… And never had much of an issue except some slight personality clashes, nothing to really warrant the arch nemesis title, but she was the wrong midwife at the wrong time…

She sat down at the beginning of her shift and tried to convince me to agree to be discharged for a solid 45 minutes, which to a medical professional is an exorbitant amount of precious time. Her sense of humor was present, but lost on me. Her air of superiority made me nauseous. She calmly and cooly presented her rationale, her philosophy.. rattled off statistics and stories of other patients’ experiences and outcomes. She made valid points, I will give her that; ones that as a nurse I would be inclined to agree with. But I wasn’t a nurse in that bed. I was a patient who had already been through the ringer, twice. I had been all but promised a baby would be in my arms by now… twice. And here she was asking me to go home and come back on Monday (4 days later) to be induced, again. To start over, again. I realized I was holding my breath. I was not leaving that bed except to walk the halls for the 11 millionth time.

Eventually she did an actual exam (the most aggressive and painful of any of the numerous other midwives I’d seen at this point) and decided to strip my membranes again as her last ditch effort (generous in comparison to what I expected of her following our lovely morning chat) and then she left without laying out any real plan. So we waited to see if maybe, please pleaseeeee, mayyybe my body was going to respond, under the assumption that we would be leaving that afternoon if it didn’t. By some miracle, I was crampy and uncomfortable for the rest of the morning. I’ll be honest.. I’m not really sure what came over this lady. Perhaps it was finally an answer to all the crazy desperate prayers I’d prayed. I doubt it had anything to do with my staunch opposition to leaving – she wasn’t the type to be swayed by a distraught patient who couldn’t even muster eye contact, but she actually agreed to restart the pitocin. Based on our history, my body and pitocin clearly weren’t the best of friends, so my hopes were less than high… But again with the glimmers… Starting the pitocin and giving it another go was a jillion times more my speed than signing discharge paperwork. And ladies and gentlemen, Thank God… the third time was the charm. It finally started working and by the time we reached the max levels this time around, I was in the agony that you read about and hear about and watch in those awful birthing class videos from 1984, or on TLC’s a baby story… Finally. I’ve never been so happy or in so much pain and absolutely positively never at the same time. Bring. It. On.

There were hours of laboring and lots of ow’s and hand squeezing and contractions and some yelling I think at some points, but really I’ve blocked all of that out already. I remember the Stadol which took the edge off when the contractions got really bad – it certainly didn’t take the pain away but it busted my give-a-good-care enough that I was smiling (and slurring) between contractions. Meanwhile, Ryan and the nurses were entertained by my blissful disorientation. Win win.

Once that wore off, all hell broke loose until my epidural was placed & functioning… Epidural placement included in the all hell breaking loose part of this story. I was terrified… It felt nothing like I’d ever anticipated; there was more pain, more stinging, more freaky tingling, not just ‘a little pressure’ and I didn’t trust the anesthesiologist at all. I will admit I was a baby, a bad patient, a squirmer, a screamer, and probably this guys worst nightmare… But he had to try twice and I know how hospitals work… it was the end of July and all the brand new docs were running free on their own…. I didn’t trust anyone who introduced themselves as doctor.

The relief was unreal; it was so effective and nothing short of amazing. Thursday night to Friday morning, we waited (this time patiently) letting the pitocin work it’s long-delayed magic and I contracted the night away in complete comfort. Epidural success. Pitocin success. THANK GOD. The midwife woke me several times to check on the progress being made and finally.. It was.

By morning I was far enough along that they stopped examining and just let me tell them when I felt like I needed to start pushing… At 10am Ryan called in the nurse and it was time for the fun to begin! The actual fun. Pushing was fun.

…

You still with me?… Or have you written me off as a crazy. Probably warranted. I had been waiting for this for 10 months, including a very anxious week post-non-c-section and the FIVE days in the hospital filled with emotional trauma, exhaustion, boredom and physical discomfort… I was so ready to get the show on the road. The troops gathered – a few nurses, a wonderful sassy seasoned midwife and a midwife in training who had made guest appearances throughout my pregnancy. I loved everyone in the room and was so happy with the crew I had rooting for me. This was the delivery we had been waiting for…it was everything we pictured and hoped for on Monday, and Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday, but those days were all but forgotten about.  I just loved everything about this particular Friday. Every ice chip, every contraction, every push… I loved being in control of what was happening for the first time in weeks. I loved the challenge and having a goal and feeling completely capable of reaching it. I loved the laid back atmosphere and the casual conversation that took place in the 2 minute lulls between contractions. I loved knowing my whole family was in the waiting room, where they’d wanted to be since Monday, including my father in law who made it home from his business trip just in time.  I loved my husband, in each of those final moments when our family was just the two of us… I loved every adorable smirk on his face as we got closer and closer to meeting our baby, his silly attempts at containing his excitement and his glances that spoke silent volumes of how proud he was of me and and how grateful. I loved his patience, his strength, and knowing that he was about to become everything he ever wanted to be. I loved that I was helping to turn that dream into a reality.  And then after an easy breezy hour and a half, I was able to love my daughter — in a whole new way. Everything I’d felt so deeply for so many months and the longest of weeks was suddenly magnified… personified… real. She was here and everything else around us fell quiet as our bright eyed little girl was placed on my chest and dried off and squeaked her first little squeak.

I loved that Friday.

Lydia Ashelyn was born at 11:49am.  She weighed 8lbs 10oz and measured 21.5 inches long.  She has mommys mouth, daddy’s nose and the most adorable profile I’ve ever seen.

Theres so much that was omitted in the interest of length and flow- things that happened behind the scenes that should be mentioned.

• Ryan’s comedic error — due to an unfortunate umbilical cord placement, they held Lydia up and Ryan happily announced that it was a boy!! In his defense, I could totally see how the mistake could be made with all the excitement and being blinded slightly by tear-filled eyes… but the nurses very quickly corrected him… Ummm no, it’s a girl. Poor Lydia was a boy right until the very end.
• A friend and fellow Stonehill grad took care of us!! I knew she was a nurse at this hospital…and that she landed an amazing position in labor and delivery. How I didn’t put two and two together is beyond me! But it was such a joy and amazing surprise to have a such a fabulous nurse and wonderful person care for us.. So grateful for you Jen!!
• Ryan’s brother made a surprise trip from Florida that meant the absolute world to us… But unfortunately Lydia wasn’t quite cognizant of Dan’s schedule and he missed her by only hours. Who would’ve thought 9 days after my due date would be too early. We love you Dan-o.
• My family spent the entirety of the week at our house, taking care of a confused Mackenzie, holding down the fort and completing home improvement projects to pass the time. Our house was the warmest most welcoming version of itself and we were so happy to return home to it!
• Our parents popped in to bring us food and coffee and treats and completely helped to keep us from going stir crazy. We will never underestimate the power of a good lunch ever again.
• And we received more messages, love and prayers than we could ever begin to thank you all for.

Our family is now home at the Hess Station and adjusting to our new roles as mom, dad, daughter and dog-ter. We are having the time of our lives and our adventures are only just beginning…