I am so happy to be typing this with you snuggled in the crook of my arm. Your sister is cuddling with your Memere, and your daddy and I are working on our accounts of your birth story. Before I start, I want to tell you how much I love you! I couldn't have dreamed up a more perfect, sweet little boy. Welcome home, Simon.
On Friday, I was two days past my due date, and so ready to meet you. I went to my OB appointment that morning feeling depressed, defeated, and like you might never arrive. (Pregnancy comes with a lot of hormones, Simon.) I burst into tears as soon as the midwife came into the room to check my cervix, and she was wonderful. She was like this pregnancy angel who swooped in with a box of tissues and a hug. She was pregnant with her third, and kept telling me that it was perfectly okay to cry, and that you would be here soon, etc. She also offered to do a membrane sweep, which is a rather painful and unpleasant procedure. Painful and unpleasant, but if the mom is already close to labor, it is super effective! I began having strong contractions around 10pm Friday night, and I was thrilled.
Strong contractions turned into very painful ones, and your dad and I headed to the hospital on Saturday around 3am. Unfortunately, once we got there, my contractions became really erratic, and a rather awful doctor (not mine, and not the OB who delivered you, thank goodness) said: "Well, you're not really in labor, so we can't keep you. Go home." Ugh. I was very quiet on the short ride home. Once we got home, however, I wasn't so quiet anymore. I laid down in bed with your dad and sister (who refused to sleep in her own bed that night, though your poor Memere tried to get her back to sleep after all of the excitement), and the contractions became terrible. Terrible. They were a lot harder and longer than the ones I'd had with your sister, and I was in more pain than I'd ever been in before. Your dad kept asking me what they felt like, and the closest thing I could think of was a werewolf transformation. I mean, I'm only guessing here, because I'm not a werewolf, but the way it's often depicted in movies is reminiscent of what I felt on the morning I labored at home with you. Lots of bones breaking and things ripping, etc. It felt like that. I remember holding onto our headboard, scratching the wall, moaning and crying, trying my hardest not to scare your poor sister to death. (She was very sweet. She kept patting my head and telling your dad, "she cryin'. She cryin'.") It was kind of hellish, Simon. I'll give it to you straight. But even while I was half insane with the werewolf contractions, I was so glad to know that you were on your way to me.
Around 7am, we went back to the hospital. At this point, I was barely able to stand up, your dad was scared half to death, and I felt a suspicious kind of pressure with each contraction that made me certain I was in active labor. They admitted me as soon as we got there this time, and told me I was six centimeters dilated. I'd progressed super fast at home, and you were almost ready to meet us.
The rest is a little bit of a blur for me. The nurses had trouble getting an IV in (as usual), my epidural was just the most wonderful thing (as usual), and then I took a nap while your dad watched Moneyball. When I woke up, the movie was almost over and I felt like I needed to push. The OB came in, checked me, and said she needed to grab her gown because I was ready. This part was very cool. It was such an easy, low-key delivery. It was just me, your dad, the OB, and a nurse, and I pushed through just three contractions before you were born. There you were! My beautiful, screaming, soggy baby boy. They laid you on my chest, and you took my breath away. You were 8 lbs 11 oz, 21.5".
I had just a regular epidural this time (I'd had a combination spinal/epidural with Maddie, which blocked just about all feeling), which meant I didn't feel pain, but I did feel when I needed to push and when your head, shoulders, and the rest of you were out. It was very cool, and I felt more in control of the birth (though, let's be honest, you were really as in control as I was. It was kind of a team effort). I was also able to walk much sooner afterward this time, and walked from the delivery room to the recovery room.
You weren't a huge fan of sleeping that first night (or the second night or third night, for that matter. Let's work on that), but you were and are a huge fan of eating. Every single hour. Sometimes even more frequently! Hopefully things will work themselves into a natural routine, and we'll be able to get some sleep soon. We took you home with us, and here you are, eating, snoozing (sometimes, and in short bursts), and staring at me with these incredibly intelligent, beautiful eyes.
And that's our birth story, little one. I love you so, so much.