And the Story...

It was Saturday evening., May 21st. I had finished grading my 44th (and last) synthesis paper for my BYU-Idaho classes. During the day, I had mowed the lawn, gone for a half hour run, played on the trampoline with Isaac, and taken a nice long walk after the kids went to bed.

I commented to my spouse before he went to bed, "You know, it stinks that other women at this point may be getting excited about the impending birth of their baby, whereas I'm just getting annoyed because I know I'll have to wait for a while longer."

Instead of trying to go to sleep at 11:30 with my husband, I decided to read for a while. (I usually go to sleep at the same time he does, but the baby liked to keep me up by kicking me for an hour or more every night in bed during her last trimester in utero, so sometimes, I'd go read for a while.)

I went to bed at 1 am, letting Heavenly Father know in prayer that I'd really like to have my water break during the night so I could have my baby the next day.

My water broke at 4:25 am. I sprinted to the bathroom, and got a huge grin on my face. My contractions started about 20 minutes later, and I decided, because they weren't too hard, I'd lie down by Doug again and try to sleep. I told him the good news, and lied down. I had a contraction--which hurt enough to let me know I wouldn't get any sleep--and left the room. I told Doug I'd get him when the contractions were harder.

From 4:45- 6 am, I had contractions every 5 minutes, and read baby books about labor and delivery between them. I didn't want to call my mom so early in the morning, but the contractions were painful enough by 6 that I went back to talk to Doug about it, and he had me start calling family, so someone could come watch our kids when we went to the hospital.

No one in my family answered the phone between 6-7 in the morning, and my contractions were painful enough that I almost cried.

7 am: Doug sprung out of bed, appealed to our neighbor next door to come stay with our kids, and came back to start packing. I packed too and ate--between contractions. We hadn't prepared for our hospital stay in any way prior to this point. The only thing I packed for our baby was a small box of pacifiers.

7:50 we left for the hospital.

8: we got to the hospital, and walked half a mile to get to the correct entrance. Fun walk.

At about 8:15, we were shown into a room, and I got a test that reads whether or not your water has actually broken. I was unsurprised when the test came back negative, because it came back negative when I tested with Isaac. The nurse strapped a monitor to my belly, and we could see my contractions coming every four minutes.

The nurse was hesitant to check me for dilation, saying I couldn't officially be admitted unless I passed another fluid test, or was dilated to at least a 4. She paged a resident, and we got to wait for the resident to arrive.

At about 8:40, the resident arrived, checked me, and said there was no need to test my fluid again because she could feel my baby's hair. And she announced that I was dilated to an 8. The nurse confirmed this, and people started flying around me.

I was frustrated that I was already at an 8, because I wanted an epidural. The nurse told me I could have something that got me sleepy, and some sort of spinal block, but we'd have to hurry. She stuffed IV's into my wrist (so painful and bizarre!) and paged the anesthesiologist.

9 am, Once I was attached to an IV, the contractions got worse. I would grip the handles on one side of my bed (there weren't handles on both sides) and try to breath correctly, still feeling frustrated that I didn't have drugs to help ease the pain of the contractions. The nurses kept asking Doug medical history questions while I tried to breath through my contractions. Soon, the contractions were coming on top of each other, and I had graduated from breathing through contractions to crying through contractions. I was the epitome of stoic bravery:).

At 9:10, the anesthesiologist came in, and talked to me while the nurse shot some sleepy stuff into my veins. At 9:14, I had to push, still frustrated that I hadn't gotten any pain relief.

At 9:16, our beautiful baby was born.

About 4 minutes later, I got sleepy from the sleepy drugs. But they in no way effected pain. I don't understand the point.

I'd like to thank the first nurse for doubting that my water broke, and NOT checking me, so there wasn't time for an epidural. I'd like to thank other nurses for dominating Doug's attention when I would have preferred reassurances from him.

But seriously, I am so thankful for my tender mercy from the Lord, getting to have my daughter 10 days early. And I'm so thankful for a less-than-5-hour labor. I knew the sleepless nights would come, and I much preferred having my little Brooklyn 10 days early to having Lucy 7 days late.

Since Brooklyn's birth, I have not yet matched those almost 3 1/2 hours of uninterrupted sleep I got on Saturday night.

My mom and sister both came to my house on Sunday, and Peanut left Monday afternoon. Then my mom left this afternoon, and I get to try my hand at watching my kids all by myself tomorrow.

It would be fine, except I'm sleepy. I need to honor the mantra, "Sleep when the baby sleeps." Hopefully, that will help me be a patient, loving parent to my oldest two kids:).

Bottom line: happy, healthy, sleepy, grateful.

Love,
Tara