Second babies always have a little different story than the first, don’t they? My pregnancy with J was great, although I felt like he dropped at 30 weeks and was big enough to be born at 32. That was a long last few weeks, waiting for him to arrive. At my 39 week appointment on December 26, 2013, I was completely honest with my doctor (a family friend); I was tired, uncomfortable, impatient, and downright grouchy waiting on my body to begin the process of evicting my little one. Chasing EK was getting more and more difficult, Christmas had completely sucked me of any energy, and the thought of waiting until 2014 to have the baby seemed impossible. Luckily, my doctor had seen me through a pregnancy and delivery before, and knew me very well. When I said the words, “I’m ready to have this baby, even if it means being induced.” he responded with, “I’m on call on Saturday. Let’s do it then.”That was a Thursday morning, so I had the rest of that day, and all of Friday to really pamper and prepare myself. My family was still in town (my parents, my aunt, unlce and cousin, and my maternal grandmother – we had lost her husband, my Graddy, in November) to help my wash the last few newborn outfits and swaddles, clean the toilets and vacuum the floors. We also went together to get mani-pedis and eat a last delicious meal or two at a restaurant. Then Saturday morning I got up, ate a light breakfast, took that last shower I was SO GLAD to have taken before EK’s birth, and Hubby and I headed to the hospital.
By the time I had shown my papers, checked in, and undressed, it was about 9:30am. When the nurse (sweetest lady) hooked me up to the several machines (including the pitocin drip and contraction counter), she said, “You’re already showing contractions! There’s no way the pitocin is in your system yet. You must already have been in labor!” Talk about feeling silly; if I had just waited, he would have come that day on his on. (#momfail) Anyway, she left me on a slight pitocin drip just to make sure, and I labored for several hours (with increasingly
horrible strong contractions) before I broke down and got the epidural (I don’t know why I say “broke down” – it isn’t like I was opposed to it.)
After I got the epidural, it was a little more slow going. It seemed that I hovered at 5cm for hours, even after they broke my water. Lauren (my best friend, doula from baby #1) was on her way back from Virginia that afternoon. She was trying to make it back for J’s arrival, so I texted her at 5:00pm that I was 5cm but not much was going on and I’d probably be another few hours. Little did I know when they came to check me in an hour, I was 10cm and ready to go! After prepping me and pushing twice, Joseph was here! It definitely was one of those “This isn’t my first rodeo.” situations. I pushed once, as soon as my body was ready, then when I thought I should push again, my doctor shouted, “Wait! Stop! Let me do the rest!” And there he was, pink and perfect. It’s hard to believe that you can love more than one little human so much. Maybe it has something to do with creating them. That must be how God feels about us.