Owen's Arrival

And history repeats itself.

This pregnancy had me nervous from the start. As the days and weeks passed, I was both relieved and increasingly anxious. Every pang or movement I'd feel had me worried. But even with my mounting anxiety, I was convinced I'd go to term. Not to my due date, but I really hoped to make it to 37 weeks. After Avery's stressful NICU stay, I wanted the standard baby-in-the-room two-day hospital stay with this one.

I'd been watching the calendar and I had 35 weeks marked. I was ready to write a cute blog post on that Tuesday about how Avery had arrived at 35 weeks but Baby 2 was hanging in there. Little did I know that baby would be hanging out here and not in there.

Avery woke me up at 6:15 on February 27—34 weeks, 6 days—and, hoping she'd go back to sleep, I rocked and snuggled her. She was being so cute, unknowingly enjoying her last moments as an only child. While rocking her, I felt a cramp. Then another. When the third one hit, I knew it wasn't just a fluke. I made Alan get up and take Avery. I called the doctor, who suggested I lie down, keep track of the contractions to see if they subsided. When they remained steady, I started Alan on the process of getting a bag packed. With our crazy history of barely making it to the hospital, we weren't going to hang around. We grabbed a few essentials and hit the road.

The doctor called as we were just blocks from the hospital and said that I should head in. When checked, I was 4 cm dilated and 100 percent effaced. The baby was definitely on the way.

I labored along just fine. Alan was timing my contractions and watching the monitors. He would see a contraction coming and then I'd feel it. I had some uncomfortable ones, but they were totally manageable. By 10:15 or so, I was a 7 and still not in a ton of pain. The doctor had offered to break my water earlier, but I'd wanted to progress on my own for awhile. So I finally opted to do it to speed things along.

Me joking about being in pain. It's all fun and games until shit gets real.

Boy, did they speed along. She told me I hadn't progressed much past 7 as she was breaking my water. As soon as she was done, I felt an immense amount of pressure and the point of no return; this baby means BUSINESS. It reminded me of the Charlie Bit My Finger video. Where it's all fun and games until it really starts to hurt. Ouch, contraction, that really hurt.

I had to pee, so I managed to get to the bathroom and go. On my way back I stopped with the worst pain. Like I had to push. I sent Alan to get someone, anyone, and got in bed. My body pretty much took over, and I was pushing as the doctor and nurses rushed back in. They were in a scramble, and I felt like no one was even paying attention to me. They didn't have time to break down the bed. I was just pushing, and my legs were shaking out of control with nothing to brace against.

I had a moment where I wondered what on bloody earth I was thinking not getting an epidural. I remember thinking that there was just no way this was happening and that they'd better just knock me out and get the baby because I couldn't do it. And so I told Alan I couldn't do it. His response? "There's the head." And seconds later, there was Owen Matthew. A surprising 6 pounds, 13 ounces and 19.5 inches of cute baby boy.

I got to hold him for a minute exactly and they whisked him away to check him over because he was preterm. I knew we'd get the NICU stay, and low glucose levels confirmed it the first day. After that, we battled jaundice and finally won our freedom.


Having been there, done that with Avery, it wasn't nearly as stressful this time, and I didn't have a panic attack that landed me in the ER. Ah, the relaxation that comes with experience. Plus seeing some of the nurses was like seeing old friends.

Although we weren't laying floors in the kitchen, we are in the middle of a basement renovation. Contractors had just wrapped up a project the Friday before. Saturday, as we were buying paint and finalizing our carpet order, Alan and I were struck by how similar it was to Avery's birthday, with a couple of Home Depot runs and construction going on. (And isn't it weird that Panera was the last meal I had before both kiddos were born? I eat there fairly frequently but not so much that that's not a little strange.)

He thinks the van is pretty sweet.

Like Avery, Owen has his daddy's chin and crazy pinky toe, his mommy's dimples and is pretty much perfect. Unfortunately, I didn't get that 37-week delivery I wanted. But I did get a beautiful, healthy baby boy. And as it turns out, that's all that matters.