Too Stinkin Cute: Mila's Birth Story

At 37 weeks pregnant, I was ready to serve your eviction notice. Yes, I was well aware that it was best for you to stay put for as long as possible. I was also well aware of the 2 hours of sleep I received each night, the false labor I had been experiencing since week 35, the back pain that made it difficult to walk/sit/stand/lay down, and the increasingly ridiculous swelling that was making my ankles appear to be the same size as my thighs.

I was done. I wanted to meet you. I wanted to see your sweet face. I wanted to know if you’d look like Tyson. I wanted to hold my little girl in my arms.

Apparently, you had other plans. While I tried nearly every natural labor inducer known to man-walking, spicy food, eggplant parmesan, a pedicure, jumping jacks, lunges, cleaning the floor, walking, nesting, more walking,-you decided you would hibernate for as long as possible.

Even in the womb you were uncooperative. I can’t wait for your teenage years.

At 39 weeks, 1 day, just when I had convinced myself you were planning on staying in-uterus until you turned 17, I again woke up at midnight with painful but inconsistent contractions. Deciding it was more false labor, I rolled over and fell back to sleep.

A few hours later, I woke up to much more intense, but still not consistent contractions. And blood (yep, I went there).

As I tried to sleep, Daddy took it upon himself to call the hospital. While he uttered, “I think my wife is going to have our baby today,” I yelled in the background, “ WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?! Why are you calling the hospital! I’m supposed to call the hospital! I think I would know if I was having the baby today!”

Side bar-Obviously, Daddy did survive your birth, but I can’t promise that he came out unscathed.

30 minutes later, after getting up and trying to fold laundry between worsening contractions, I sucked up my pride and asked Daddy to call his Mom so we could, “ahem…go to the hospital to just see what’s going on…not that I’m going to have her today…ahem…”

Grandma Pat arrived around 5. We packed the car, kissed Tyson goodbye and made the 30 minute drive through light snow. Not wanting to break tradition, Daddy drove around the parking lot for at least 10 minutes trying to find the best place to park.

We checked in at the hospital with the nurse that Daddy had spoken to on the phone. After possibly providing Daddy with packets on spousal abuse while I wasn’t looking, she led us to labor and delivery and admitted us into the same room Tyson was born in.

THE. SAME. ROOM. Hello, Fate? If you weren’t getting the message today, I was going to start looking into how to enroll you in Drivers ED classes in-utero. Because, clearly.

I was checked for the first time shortly after 6:30. When the delivery nurse announced I was at a 6, I almost made out with her. A 6 meant we were being admitted to the hospital! A 6 meant we would meet you sometime soon! A 6!

Praise baby and regular size Jesus! We can cancel the in-uterus Drivers Ed classes.

The plan was to order the epidural, let the hospital complete their shift change at 7:00, break my water at 8:00 and have a baby by the end of the morning. I like plans. I loved this one. Contractions with you were strong, but not on top of each other like I had experienced with Tyson. I knew I went fast with him so I kept that in the back of my mind. I thought I could endure the pain for a short amount of time and even considered going natural. In the end, Daddy ordered the epidural for me because he was afraid of what words I would yell at him without pain meds.

Drugs! Saving our marriage one baby at a time!

The anesthesiologist was a reincarnate of Dr. McDreamy (I realize you’ll have no idea who this is, but google it-trust me, you’ll thank me later.) I tried to make conversation with him while he poked a five inch long needle into my back and got a bird’s eye view of my butt crack. I’m sure he was impressed.

While the epidural worked it’s wonders, the nurses let us be and Daddy and I cried in our little hospital room. A part of me was worried that the your birth wouldn’t be as miraculous as Tyson’s, but I think I realized in that moment that the miracle of birth is that much more amazing when you’ve experienced it once before already. I knew this day was going to change my life forever. I knew my heart was going to grow the minute I saw your little face. I knew the way my breath would catch when they put you on my chest for the first time. I knew it and I could hardly wait.

The nurse broke my water at 8:00 and the contractions started to come fast and strong soon thereafter. Thanks to your Daddy and Dr. McDreamy, I couldn’t feel any of them. As the nurses set up the room for delivery, Daddy and I made phone calls to let everyone know this is it. Daddy also took pictures. Here’s the obligatory picture of the delivery supplies. For reasons yet to be discovered, Daddy finds these items fascinating and has taken pictures of them with both babies.

SERIOUSLY. What is the fascination here? "And look kids, here's the bowl where they placed all the bloody stuff after you came out."

At 8:15, the doctor entered our room to introduce himself. He and the nurse started a 20 minute conversation about who knew who in the hospital. At 8:35, I politely interrupted them by saying, “I THINK I NEED TO PUSH!”

And push I did. Three times to be exact. The same number of times I did with Tyson.

At 8:50 AM, on Friday, February 24^th, as Daddy said, “She’s really a girl!” you were placed on my chest for the first time. My heart grew, my breath caught, and I marveled at the new perfect little we had created.