On the day Quinn was born.

The funny thing is, I really just didn't know it was coming. I mean, maybe I did. Deep down. But on Wednesday, I just wasn't thinking that it was going to be the day. As in THE. DAY. The kind of day where you have a baby, & all of a sudden life as you know it changes. 

See, a few days before - when we went to see Next to Normal - I thought that for sure I was going to go into labor that weekend. I just knew it. I thought that my water broke Saturday morning just before my shower (it didn't), & went to the hospital Saturday night to make sure (it hadn't). And then - all was mostly quiet. Frequent contractions per usual, but they were small, & I had a general feeling of comfort. I wasn't dying. I wasn't so tired of being pregnant. I was okay. I was active. I was feeling strong & good. Too many people made comments about how that would all change before I had the baby. They'd say that You can SEE it when someone is ready to have a baby! So - the acceptance came that even though my doctor said I'd probably have this baby sooner rather than later (which threw me into a flurry of activity), I'd probably end up having him late as is so common with first pregnancies. That was fine. It gave me more time for my mom to arrive, & more time to get things done. I like to get things done.

And so I did! Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I was so busy. It was lovely. I put together last minute things for Baby Boy's room (although I'm still not quite finished). I ran errands. I cleaned our apartment. I saw friends. We went out to dinner with Tim & Amy (who had their baby boy on Wednesday!). We saw Vampire Weekend. I walked miles & miles (I counted). I felt good & strong, & not like I was going into labor any time soon.

Thursday.

My morning started with a 6:30am backache that wouldn't go away & that seemed to come from nowhere. I woke up & recognized contractions. Regular enough that I noticed, & different enough that they made me just a teensy bit nervous. I told Mike, & he told me to start timing. Nah. Too soon. No point. I'd already been having contractions for what felt like weeks & didn't see the point in watching a pot boil.

I ate breakfast (another contraction). I brushed my teeth (another contraction). I flipped on the TV to watch the news (another contraction). Mike wanted to stay home. I sent him to work instead, telling him that I'd be fine, that it was nothing & that I'd call him if anything really developed. I blogged (more contractions).

I probably should have just had him stay home.

I started timing shortly after he left.

I took a shower (another contraction). Four minutes later, another contraction. I put on makeup (another contraction). Three minutes later, blowdrying my hair (another contraction). I finished getting ready, timing them the whole way, but continuing to get things done as it slowly dawned on me that maybe this was my last opportunity to be alone. I cleaned up the apartment (another contraction). I re-checked my hospital bag, because I was really starting to feel anxious (another contraction). By 11am, they were fast & strong enough that I started to feel like maybe this is what labor feels like. They were close enough that it made me nervous. I called my doctor & asked if I should come in for the appointment that I had scheduled for later that day, or if I should go straight to the hospital. She quickly recommended To the hospital!

I called Mike. I told him to get on the subway whenever he could wrap things up at work & meet me at the hospital. The next time I talked to him, he was in a cab on his way up from Tribeca. 

At 11:30am, I took a cab by myself across town. I was uncomfortable, but excited. I zipped through Central Park, down the Upper West Side, around Columbus Circle & stopped at Roosevelt Hospital. Sort of surreal. Really crazy actually, because we had taken that cab ride so many times, but this was the cab ride.

I met Mike in front of the doors of the hospital, took the elevator up & walked into triage on the 12th floor. I talked to the nurses & explained to them my doctor had sent me to be checked. I winced through contractions. I filled out paperwork. We waited. They gave me a bed in triage & we watched the contractions while waiting for an examination from the resident.

Clearly, I wasn't feeling badly enough. I look happy & relaxed.

As I should have expected - & as I hear is quite common - I got to the hospital, & my contractions slowed way down as soon as I was on my back & hooked up to the monitors. Frequent, but not strong enough. I was dilated, but not enough. Frustrating! And made me feel silly, telling the resident that Really! All morning! I promise! See my app! Every 3-5 minutes! A minute long! See on the monitor? The mountains of contractions were more like little bumps. My water had not broken, so my I was left to keep working. I was frustrated. Dr. Benson was kind, said it was totally normal, & didn't make me feel like an idiot. I appreciated that, & I now want to send Dr. Benson a thank you note, because compared to the resident I'd seen the weekend before - she was amazing. However, as much as I liked her, I did not want to go home. I was too uncomfortable to go home, too scared to go home & too excited to go home.

They called my doctor & decided to strip my membranes before I left. You know, just in case that pushed things along in the right direction. I've heard varied stories about how such stripping feels (Fine, I promise!). For the record, I hated it. I almost cried. I probably did cry. It hurt, although in hindsight, it really was nothing in comparison to what was to come. My contractions immediately picked up (think: bigger, faster, stronger), & they still sent me home. I leaned against the wall in the lobby as I worked through a contraction. I stopped every 20 feet on my way to catch a cab. I left the hospital in tears. I rode home in tears. Those tears didn't stop for much of the day.

At 1pm I arrived back at my apartment, still pregnant & empty handed.

I called my doctor an hour later when contractions were still strong & frequent. It might take you a few days to progress. Go back in when the pain is at a 10, she said. What is a 10?! I had no frame of reference & nothing with which to compare what I was about to experience. My doctor said to take the afternoon & get something good to eat, rest & keep timing my contractions. She recommended walking, so Mike & I decided to leave the apartment. We went out to lunch! Looking back at this now, this seems like complete insanity! But she said to walk, & Tara said I needed carbs, so we went to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away where I ate my pasta & tried to avoid looking like I was in labor every 3 minutes. Our waitress thought that we hated each other I'm sure, as I was on the verge of tears the entire time & likely said nothing more to Mike other than There's another one so that he could track it in his phone. But - I got lunch, & I got carbohydrates in the form of really good Italian.

Walking down the street & stopping every few minutes for a contraction is something I'll always remember. I leaned against Mike, against a wall, & against a parked car. I'm sure people were concerned that I was going to have a baby on the sidewalk of 3rd Avenue. Making it home was a relief only in that there was the absence of embarrassment, but my contractions continued to progress. And so I sat in my living room & continued to time them as they got stronger & stronger, as we watched the sky become increasingly more grey & more grey. I couldn't sit, & for many of them, I kneeled leaning over the back of the couch looking over midtown Manhattan, as a storm literally blew in.

This was my view. How fitting, no?

The storm came in when my contractions were just getting strong enough that I could no longer sit through or talk through them. The clouds blew in & were quickly followed by torrential downpour that went sideways. My contractions came every two to five minutes. Bigger, faster, stronger. Bigger, faster, stronger. 

Our view quickly deteriorated into this. When we could finally see down 1st Avenue outside of our window, we saw that there were NO. CABS. ANYWHERE. thanks to the rain, fog & clouds. This meant that we sat & we waited.

By a bit after 6pm, I'd had enough, I was scared, & I was exhausted after 12 hours. I knew I had to be at the hospital. I said Mike, we've got to go. Now. He caught the emphasis on the now & the urgency in my voice. We left quickly enough that he left an English muffin toasting in the toaster. Cab ride #3 of the day did not involve any talking, did involve tears, was much more uncomfortable, & much more frustrating. Missed turns & a 12 minute detour thanks to cab driver error (he was using a GPS, what?!) & Fashion Week roadblocks do not make for a happy woman in labor. Still, I was relieved to not be alone & glad that Mike was with me to express his frustration on my behalf. Come on man, we're having a baby here! 

Not feeling awesome at this point, obviously.

We finally made it to the hospital. I wanted one last belly shot of my 39th week of pregnancy. I have one from every other week, so I had to have one, right? Why I was even thinking about this at this point is beyond me, but I asked Mike to pause as we were walking up to the hospital doors to snap a photo. He looked at me like I was absolutely crazy to ask (I was), but he obediently took this photo as I burst into tears, yet again, as another contraction came. The series of other photos are even worse. I felt about as good as I look. 

And then - you will notice a large section of missing photos for the next several hours. My precious camera would have likely been thrown out the window if Mike had pulled it out. He was smarter than that, & knew that he was needed for other things, like standing there & feeling somewhat helpless as he realized that I was virtually totally unaccepting of any of his sweet offers to help or suggestions from our L&D class that he'd taken such copious notes from. 

By this time is was about 6:45pm & we didn't take another photo until almost 9pm. Things weren't especially pleasant, nor especially calm. They were actually quite a bit frantic, a little messy, & there were quite a bit more tears (& maybe yelling, but no bad words).

The initial events at a high level: Walking past the security guard at the front door who took one look at me & said Good luck (vs. the Hello! he had given us earlier in the day), walking into triage & instead of asking what I was there for, having the nurses take one look at me & then immediately bringing me back & into a triage room while Mike filled out paperwork (that was really nice of them). And then of course - my water breaking right onto the floor immediately after the nurse helped me into my hospital gown.

(I'm really, really grateful that hadn't happened 5 minutes earlier in a cab, or 20 minutes earlier in our apartment.)

My contractions went from really bad to how can I actually survive this? almost immediately. I couldn't have even fathomed the kind of pain that I was experiencing. There's just no possible way that I could have wrapped my head around it without actually experiencing it, because at this point, I really thought that I was going to die. Dramatic perhaps, but the whole experience at this point felt dramatic. Like TV, but uglier, & more scary. I panicked. The triage nurses, who I'd met several times before as it turns out, were wonderful & kept me from completely hyperventilating (barely) as each contraction hit me. But I remember feeling absolutely terrified.

By 7pm, I was moved into a labor & delivery room (private in NYC hospitals, although the rooms for the rest of your stay are shared) with a nurse who could whose coaching through contractions was about as helpful as someone patting me on the head & saying there, there in a monotone voice. She was sweet (as I learned a few hours later), but obviously young & inexperienced. All I wanted was relief. I wanted help, because I was very aware that I was dealing with this completely on my own in that moment. I wanted (needed!) my epidural. All of my questions of When?!?! were answered with Soon. And then when I would ask again, another Soon. in response. I saw right through this (i.e. that they had absolutely no clue when soon would actually be) & grew increasingly upset. Shortly after, we received the news that an emergency c-section would delay my epidural, & they had no idea how long it would be.

Insert total panic, if I wasn't already feeling that. 


Breathing techniques had long since flown out the window, & complete terror took over as the contractions continued their BIGGER. FASTER. STRONGER. trending. It wasn't my bravest moment, & I will fully admit to being that girl. Mike might say that I was strong, but I will say that I had never been so scared in my entire life. Contractions were coming faster than we could track, & breaks to recuperate in between were almost nonexistent. The swaying that they taught us in our Labor & Delivery course suddenly seemed like the silliest thing I'd ever heard & Mike's sweet offerings of Should we try this? were all answered with No!!! And so I labored, for 90 minutes, until the blonde anaesthesiologist flew in the door & announced that she was ready. 

And then she put THREE holes in my back before it finally took. 


Three.


Something about hitting a bone, then hitting a vein, then doing something else that probably wasn't very smart. She had someone else there coaching her (an attending?), which wasn't encouraging considering she was working with MY SPINE - but I was just grateful to have her there & her southern accent made me feel strangely more comfortable. 

Mike described the epidural as an apache helicopter coming over the hill in the final moments of battle. I think that's a really perfect way to describe it. It saved me in what felt like my final moments. It allowed me to enjoy the rest of my experience that night. It calmed me, so that I could be calm when I met my baby. And now, I'd like to announce my plan on dedicating the rest of my life's work to the promotion of epidural advocacy. 

10 minutes after they successful started the epidural, I could breathe again. And then relax. And then rest. Finally. 

Then we took photos! Lots & lots of photos, the majority of which were taken by my sweet husband who understands my need for them, my love for them. 

Epidural + iPhone multitasking = utter brilliance.

Realizing that was where OUR. BABY. was going to go (strange) in a few minutes.

The last view of the bump + my dim & quiet labor & delivery room.

Contractions = mountains, but who cares? I loved looking at the monitor & saying Wow, that's a really bad one. I'm so glad I can't feel it. My epidural didn't slow down my contractions a bit & things moved along quite quickly. 

Two necessities for birthing a child: a really strong epidural & your favorite lip balm (that I'd luckily picked up just a few days before).

Shortly after getting the epidural, the doctor checked me & gave us a double digit number (!!) while announcing it was time to push.

Excuse me? Already?

She let me rest, I texted family & friends, & off we went.

Hi friends, I'm in the middle of what looks like a really horrific contraction & I'll be meeting my son soon. ?!

10:25pm & almost there. I credit my doctor for the experience being incredibly calm & peaceful, in complete contrast to the hours before. She was wonderful. We chatted, we took photos, we talked about Quinn's name, & every so often I'd "push" (although I couldn't feel much besides a general pressure, so when she said "push harder" I summed up all of my energy to do what felt like playing make believe Let's have a baby!).

Our nice nurse took a few photos in our final moments of "labor".

Oxygen for baby when he got a little tired.

Twenty minutes of pushing, & we met our little boy. He was calm, I was calm, Mike was calm & the doctor was calm. The last 2 hours or so of this experience were truly lovely & meeting our son was as well. The word peaceful comes to mind when I think about those first few moments with him. It was an interesting experience to put a face to our baby boy, but it felt completely beautiful & natural & normal to say hello to him for the first time, but it didn't necessarily feel like it was our very first. It was as if I was just saying Well hello! I already know you, & there you are. 

Hello, Quinn. I am unapologetic about your slime. 

I am a (tired + happy) mother.

First family photo. (obviously) Tired, but oh so happy.

Getting to spend time with Quinn over this past week has been a really amazing, quiet, calm experience. He's a good baby. I've loved our simple days together. He eats, he sleeps, we cuddle (repeat). He rarely fusses just to fuss. I feel as if we've already known each other. I recognize his kicks & twitches from our 9 months together. He still gets the hiccups at least once a day. I love seeing him with his Dad, seeing how much Mike loves his little boy, & how much he loves me. I love how for the last week, life has not existed outside of this little apartment & very little else has mattered except the things within it.

I am humbled. I'm humbled by sheer & total exhaustion. I'm humbled by how much I don't know. I'm humbled by post-labor & the physical weakness & fragility I've never before experienced. I'm humbled by the kindness of friends & family. I'm humbled by how much I've depended on my husband & mother this week, & how wonderful they've both been & I'm grateful. I'm humbled by the total reliance & dependance that my son has on me. I'm humbled by the responsibility that Heavenly Father trusts & allows us to have as parents.

Parents.

I'm humbled at the change I've undergone in the past week - from pregnant to mother. I love it.