Which brings me here at 8:15pm with three kids asleep and an overdue blogpost about our new baby. Per my usual, the Cliff Notes version is in BOLD.
So there was his due date a solid two weeks ago at which point my doctor called me (generously I think) at a 1... and then there were three more days that were excruciatingly boring. Then on the fourth day I woke up feeling awesome which I was pretty sure was not a good sign, but by just a few minutes after Cameron left for work I started to notice that my contractions (which I'd had on and off for the last two months) were feeling a little more frequent and regular. I pulled out the lap timer on my phone and tried to time them, but never managed more than one before some small person or the other pulled my attention away.
I texted Cam that I thought my contractions were about 8 minutes, which means nothing since that's what they were, oh, the entire day before Dawson was born. But, I suggested and that he should probably plan to come home at lunch to avoid another Dawson story or Cam's worst fear, that this kid would be faster and he would be delivering in the car. I also called my mom who came over to watch the boys.
By the time Cam got home I wasn't in any pain, but we decided to head to the hospital (20 minutes away) a little early because we'd rather be safe than in a drainage ditch. We stopped by his office to tell them to cancel his afternoon, and joked and had a generally good time all the way to the hospital.
We arrived obviously not in enough distress because they sent me to an exam room for monitoring (the nurse said maybe a 2), and then to walk around, which we did for an hour. We came back an hour later and the contractions were not much different, so she sent us to walk again. Over the next half hour I went from a pleasant walking companion to having to stop through each contraction. The nurse checked me again, and I was at a 5. She said yikes! And that it would be 20 minutes until they could get a room ready and have the anesthesiologist there. Cameron, my super-advocate requested that as soon as we get in the room they check again. And then I was a 7.
At that point the nurse leaned out into the hall and said, "Can I get some help in here?" Two nurses walked in and very quickly set up for a delivery. And Cam again requested the anesthesiologist (He learned his lesson last time). Who came in promptly and I did get my epidural this time! In fact it was the most perfect epidural I could have asked for; I could move but not feel anything (unlike Wesley's).
The epidural slowed everything way down and I didn't progress for the next half hour. At that point the doctor checked me and realized the reason we weren't progressing: the baby hadn't descended and he was turned a little funky. Also of note, my water hadn't broken, so they had to worry about my water breaking and having the cord get washed down and pinched off.
So rather than trying to speed things up again, I spent the next four hours turning different ways to try to get the baby to turn the right way and descend. Cam used this time to read his kindle. I may or may not have taken a nap and surfed Pinterest. Yeah, the epidural was that awesome.
At 9:30 at night the doctor decided he had descended enough that it would be safe to break my water. She did. A few minutes later I said, "I think I'm going to push now." I did. 3-4 totally easy pushes and there he was. Seriously, easiest birth ever.
We call him Everett, he weighed just two ounces more than Dawson did but is an inch longer: skinny kid. And his brothers think he's great and they like to look at him. Dawson calls him "tiny baby," said in a little tiny voice.
Fact: He has awesome ears. They're both like that.
And my awesome friend Kristi made this adorable hat and shoes for him.
And this one's for Dad's office.