The anti-nausea medication makes me a little wonky, so my memory from here on out is a little fuzzy. The midwife checks me around 3, says she'll come back in another hour to check me again. For the next hour, I'm in so much pain, and asking Matt every 5 to 10 minutes "Is it 4pm yet?" I try yoga balls, I try yoga positions, and NOPE. Not comfortable. I just want to lean over on the bar in the bathroom to relieve this stupid, annoying, painful back labor.
Finally 4pm rolls around and the midwife checks me. She says I'm ready for the epidural and gets me ready to be wheeled into the delivery room. I'm completely out of it from the anti-nausea medication, and the contractions are so intense...as they get me into the wheelchair, and wheel me along to the delivery room, I just have my eyes closed the whole time. Each contraction is more than I can take, and I'm in so much pain...I can't catch a break. I'm SO excited for some relief!
I get to the delivery room. People are coming in and out. My Dad arrives, so does my Uncle Gregg and Aunt Diane. Our doula from Spokane is on the way. Brie is there. Matt is pacing, getting nervous and excited. I hear conversations about the anesthesiologist. I hear the midwife talking about checking me soon, and I hear the nursery nurses getting the bassinet ready. I can't have skin to skin because he's a preemie and they have to check him first. I hush everyone to please keep their voices down, the noise is overwhelming. And the contractions just keep happening faster and faster.
She checks me, finally. And I'm too far for the epidural. So far, in fact, that, I'm...um, well I'm ready. Within an hour I had gone from epidural time to "go time". The midwife tells me I'm going to have to do this without drugs.
I manage to squeak out "WHAT?"
The men clear the room, aside from Matt. He's on my left, Diane on my right.
This scream comes out of me, something so primal. I've not heard it before. It hurts, I'm tired, just get it OUT already!
And then, three pushes later, at 5:15pm, my son is born. He's not crying at first, but he does quickly, and the nurses tend to him after Matt cuts the cord. He has a huge cone head, and his little nose is squished so far over, but he's amazing and wonderful, and I can't wait to hold him. But I have to stop shivering first.
I recover. We go to a recovery room, and spend the next two nights saying "...a week ago we were at a baby shower..."
And here we are, today...Wesley is 16 days old. He has gained so much weight, an ounce a day! (At birth he was 4 pounds, 15 ounces and this last Friday he was 4 pounds, 14 ounces. I bet he's 5 pounds by now!) He's starting to get jowls, and his cheeks are getting chubby. I can see his dimples, and his belly is rounding out. He has most beautiful, soulful eyes, and a smile that just melts my heart.