Not-so-silent Sundays: Gray's birth story, Part 1

Have you ever had an experience that was so amazing that you grieved it coming to an end?

On Thursday night, I was lucky enough to do just that, giving birth to Grayson.

I'm sure that regardless of the experience, giving birth to a healthy baby is awe-inspiring and life-changing. But Gray's birth was so amazing that every time I think about it, my heart swells a little. It was everything I hoped for and some things I didn't think I wanted. How it all turned out so perfect is beyond me.

On Thursday morning, I visited my OB, feeling a little negative. I had just seen him on Monday, and although he had expected me to go into labor on Tuesday or Wednesday, I hadn't.

He walked into the exam room, took one look at me, said, "Uh-oh, let's try this again," and walked out. Evidently, I had shot him some serious daggers when he walked in. I was so disappointed that his magic tricks didn't work on Monday's appointment, and terrified that I was going to have a hard time with the delivery if I waited any longer. I just had a feeling that I was carrying a big baby.

He re-entered the room and by then I was laughing. We discussed my fears and the fact that he had to pull a 6 pound 15 ounce Logan out of me, which almost led to an emergency c-section. He didn't think this baby was any bigger than Logan, but agreed that I needed to go into labor. "I'm going to stretch the heck out of you," he warned me...and then did just that. While he did, I had a contraction, and almost jumped off of the table was comforted by his saying that was a good sign.

He took pity on me and said I could head to the hospital that evening after dinner, and when the nurses who worked there called him, he'd tell them to break my water.

I left, grinning, with as much of a bounce in my step as a hugely pregnant waddling woman can have. I stopped by my mom's house, since she had kept L for me the night before (we all were sure I'd go into labor by then). As I visited with the two of them and we ate lunch, I noticed the contractions that had started at the office were getting stronger.

And faster. I started timing them, and realized that they were 5-7 minutes apart. This had happened several times before, but had always stopped.

One hour later, they were still coming. I called the office, and told the nurse what was happening. She put me on hold and talked to the nurse practitioner. When she got back on the phone, she told me to drink a large glass of water and they'd probably stop, since they were most likely from my exam. If they were exactly 5 minutes apart, I should head to the hospital.

I drank 32 ounces of water, and they slowed to 8 minutes. I decided to head home for a nap and some cleaning. After all, I'd need to come home to a clean house...my baby was on his way later tonight! I hopped in my car, and as I drove home, the contractions picked up again.

7 minutes.

6 minutes.

By the time I got home, they were five minutes. B was at work. I was home alone.

I went to the bathroom and wasn't sure if my water had broken. (Don't ask.)

Still 5 minutes.

After some "should I; shouldn't I" tweeting, my Twitter friends convinced me to call B and head to the hospital. By the time he got home, he was frantic and I had somehow calmed down, even though the contractions were 4-5 minutes apart and stopping me in my tracks.

He flew in the door, breathless, grabbed my bags, and rushed me out. My careful, methodical husband does not speed. He absolutely flew me to the hospital.

I walked into the hospital and calmly told the woman at the counter, "I think I'm in labor."

the night before I went into labor

To be continued....