Grayson's birth story...part three

If you missed part two of Gray's birth story, you can catch up here.

When Karla, the nurse, told me that I was at a 10, I looked over at Brian and Audrey. They had the same expression on their faces and although I'll never forget it, I wish I'd had a camera to capture it. Their eyebrows were raised, big smiles on their faces, but they both had a bit of fear in their eyes. When I asked if they were nervous, they both just nodded, but kept smiling. Hilarious.

Karla came back with the enormous leg rests and because I had such a small dose of drugs, I was able to help her get my legs in them. She watched the monitor and asked if I could feel the contractions. For some reason, at first, I thought I couldn't, but when my next one came, I could definitely feel them, and the urge to push.

A few minutes earlier, I had had some strong stomach pains that I could tell were different from the contractions. Karla figured out that my bladder was full, and after fixing that problem via catheter, I was still having weird pains as my little man moved further and further down. However, once I was at a ten, the pain was gone. I could tell things were exactly where they needed to be and even though I could feel the contractions and the baby coming down, I felt amazing.

Audrey came on one side of me and Brian was on the other. I practiced pushed a few times, and the two of them and Karla cheered me on. The feeling of support in the room was incredible.

My doctor had previously guessed that this baby wouldn't have much hair. However, after my first set of pushes, Karla informed me that the doctor was "a big fat liar" because she could see his hair.

"Is it cute?" I asked, and everyone laughed.

"Gina, the top of his head is adorable," Karla assured me.

After another set of practice pushes, and everyone in the room oohing and ahhing over seeing that cute head, I asked for a birthing mirror. When I was giving birth to Logan, everything was so intense. I was on so many drugs that I had a terrible high, and watching in the mirror was not even a consideration. Hearing myself request a mirror, as silly and simple as it sounds, was another reminder of how different an experience I was having.

Karla left to get me a mirror and came back to practice a few more pushes. I was a little nervous to see exactly what my hoo-ha looked like in the mirror, but when I peeked in, it took my breath away...in a great way. Seeing him get closer as I pushed was awe-inspiring, in the truest sense of the word. I could still feel the contractions starting, increasing, myself open up as I pushed, and the contraction ending. Watching the look of awe on Audrey and Brian's faces made my hair stand on end.

"The top of this baby's head is getting cuter and cuter," Karla giggled. "Even if his face isn't cute, you can just get lots of adorable pictures of his head," and left to call the doctor, making me promise not to push anymore.

And that was the tone of the delivery. We laughed. Everyone teased each other. I ate ice chips. We laughed some more. When my doctor came in, we all immediately started teasing him about his terrible guess regarding the baby's hair. He took a look and insisted that that wasn't "a lot." We laughed some more. And for the 476th time, I mentioned how much more fun this experience was than the first time I gave birth.

My doctor got dressed and got ready for the big catch. He started stretching me out and with the first push, started talking to my little man, calling him by name. As his head came out, the doctor laughed, saying, "He's winking at me!"

And with the last set of pushes, everyone in the room cheered.

"Here he comes!"

"What a big boy!'

"He's out already!"

"Gina, you did it!"

Brian was at my side, peering at his second son, as proud as can be. Audrey was down by my feet, jumping up and down. Karla was grinning ear to ear. The doctor was suctioning him, promising he was fine and I'd hear him cry in just a second.

That cry was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.

The doctor put him on my chest, and I got to meet Grayson. Finally.


He cried and cried until I started talking.

"I'm your mommy," I introduced myself, and encouraged him to keep telling me whatever it was that he wanted to "say."

Immediately, he became calm and peaceful.

After we got acquainted, another nurse took him to weigh him. My doctor guessed 7 pounds, 10 ounces.

"You think he's that big?" I asked, as Karla rolled her eyes and insisted, "He's way bigger than that."

She was right....



B called over, "G, he's 8 pounds 10 ounces! And his hands are huge!! Wait till you see them!"

As my doctor helped me deliver the placenta, he mentioned that he was glad I got an epidural, since that was an awfully big baby for a petite girl to deliver, and part of the pain I was feeling was due to his size. Plus, the small rip and few stitches I endured would have been much worse sans pain medication.

I realized that it didn't matter. I had fun delivering my baby, who was perfect. Beautiful. And mine.

I looked at his protective daddy, shading the light from Gray's eyes as he was examined.



And when I finally got my hands back on my precious Gray, kissed my little man for the first time, I knew that everything happened exactly as it should have.


Welcome to the world, Baby Gray. I wish I could tell you how much I love you...how complete our lives feel...how ecstatic we are to have you in our family. But something tells me I'll never find the words.

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....