Contractions...not for sissies!

Birth story, everyone's got one. Here's Andrew's:

So, it's about 8 p.m. on Wednesday, July 29th and I'm folding clothes on the couch at my in-law's. Jacob emerges from his bath and it's time for me to take him over and put him to bed. I notice as I'm heading up the stairs to his room that there's a strong tightening in my back, coupled with some mild pain. This occurred several times and so I tell Brian, hesitantly, that I might be having contractions. He decided against going on his nightly bike ride.

I'm reading to and rocking Jacob and these contractions continue. Mind you, they're not unbearable, nor are they constant. Just kinda there and annoying. After 3 books and a "Nigh-Nigh, Dolly. Momma loves you", I head back down the stairs, kinda excited that this might be my night...that I may not go on being pregnant forever, as has been my sentiment for the past 6 weeks.

Brian purchased brownie mix at the store earlier in the evening and he questions whether he should make them tonight, as he had intended. I say that he shouldn't, just in case. He decides that he should...his logic is that if he makes them, then I will go into labor; if he doesn't make them, the contractions will stop.

The contractions come on stronger and a bit more regular. Mike and Nancy haven't returned from their trip to CA, but they're due home any minute. I use Brian's second hand on his watch to time the duration of the contractions and Brian's using the clock on the microwave to time the length between.

I'm making laps around Nancy's kitchen during the contractions and I see Nancy and Mike pull into the driveway. I ask Brian not to say anything to them because, at this point, the contractions aren't the requisite length or frequency. Close, but not yet. As it so happens, though, when they entered the house, a contraction came on. I, holding the watch, lap around the kitchen and run into them coming in the front door. Mike gathers from the watch, my arms on my hips and my pacing that I'm in labor and he frantically turns to Nancy and says, "She's timing contractions." He became so excited that every time a contraction came on, he'd yell to Nancy, updating her on my status.

Brian and I decide to take a walk around the neighborhood and I decide to call the midwife. It's now 9:30 and the contractions aren't, again, at the requisite intervals or duration but they're pretty strong, painful and regular. She states that it's my choice as to whether I want to come in. Brian and I decide that it's time.

We head back to the house and tell our news to Mike, who announces our news to Nancy. Mike seemed to be just as, if not more so, excited about prospect of a baby later in the night. Brian and I gather our belongings and Nancy sends us on our way, brownies in hand.

As we're leaving the neighborhood, I realize, in horror, that I've forgotten to pack my eye-make up remover. All I could think about was pictures of me holding my new bundle-of-joy sporting the raccoon look. So, I convince Brian to stop at Harris Teeter. He runs in and I pace the parking lot. A woman stops me and says, "Are you ok?" I say, "No, I'm in labor." She says, "Good luck...and keep breathing."

Off we go to the hospital. Brian's flying down the road, doing 80 while eating his brownies. I begin to lament the fact that I've taken the headrest off the passenger seat, upon which I sit, so that Jacob can get a better look out of the car. The headrest would be a perfect oh-s*&t-here comes-a-contraction apparatus. But, too little, too late.

We arrive at the Women's Hospital and I'm terribly uncomfortable. They suggest that I sit down and wait until they call me. The prospect of me waiting, much less sitting, is crazy to me, and I find myself in the entryway of the hospital on all fours on the bench. The nurses see me in this state and decide that I need to be taken back.

The contractions are coming on strong. Man, that is some serious pain. I'm checked and I'm at 4cm. It's 10:30.

They move me to the labor and delivery room. The contractions are strong. It's now 11:30-ish and I'm now at 9cm. The midwife tells me that I can push whenever I'm ready. I do, and 14 minutes later, I have a beautiful purple blob plopped on tummy. Brian cuts the cord; Andrew is now the newest member of our family.

Remember how I was worried about raccoon-eyes? Yeah, I should have been less worried about my eye-makeup appearance and more worried about the photographing talent of the nurses who helped deliver my child. The nurse taking them kept saying, "Oh, that was a good one" or "That's going to be a good pic." Yeah, they're great pics, alright. Just not ones that you can show anyone because they're not, ahem, G-rated, if you get my drift. The nurses at Women's Hospital are waaaaay better at delivering babies then at photography. Guess that's how it should be.

Andrew has turned out to be a truly delightful baby. Only fusses when hungry and only wakes up 1-2x per night. I feel, my friends, that I am due an easy-going baby.

Anyway, that's Andrew's birth story. The rest will be his history.