LONG, so bear with me here, lol.
It was a normal Friday evening; Tom and the girls snoring, me up late watching Food Network. Then the contractions started (around 10 pm), the same intensity as the week before when they'd sent me home. "Smurf's sake, not again", I said; naturally I wasn't in the mood for more labor that wasn't going to result in a baby (little did I know). I decided I'd wait it out at home as long as possible. Around 11-11:30, I tapped Tom alerting him that we should probably head to the hospital. He asked, "Are you sure this time?" Yes, stupid. I don't want to make this drive again for nothing either, let's go. During the 30-45 minute drive, I felt pretty good. We sang together (we always love singing in the car), talked about what Gabriel would look like, etc. It got to the point where I was worried the labor had stopped and we were half way to the hospital. Only to be reminded by another contraction "nope, still going!". We got to the hospital, checked in the ER (we went to a different hospital than the one I'd been going to), and chilled out while they stuck me with an IV and battered me with questions. I told them I was 5.5 cm last week when I was previously admitted and in labor; you could almost hear their eyes popping out of their heads, lol. They pushed me up to L&D, continuing the Spanish Inquisition (I could almost predict what the questions were at this point and answered in the middle). We got up to L&D and hooked up to monitors around 12:30. I informed them I was going pain management free and they kept reminding me to ask them at any time if I changed my mind. The doc checked me and I was at 7 cm. So, from there, they let me chill out. I was still feeling really good, the contractions hurt just enough to get me to pause in the middle of a sentence, but not bad enough to where I wasn't laughing in between them. Tom kept telling me I was acting like I was on pain medication, lol, like I was high. I asked, "would you rather me be screaming profanities and throwing fists?" He let that go. Another couple hours went by, it was now about 2:30-3:00 (to be entirely honest, I didn't give a smurf about the clock, lol) when the doc came in and broke my water. I texted my mom and said "these contractions are wimpy!" Not 30 minutes later, I texted her and my sister and said "these contractions suck
((" At that point, I asked Tom to come sit next to me (he had been on the visitor's couch catching up on sleep). He gave me his hand to hold and I squeezed it through contractions. They started getting really intense; at this point I'd forgotten all breathing techniques, all relaxation techniques. I was squeezing Tom's hand and kind of throwing it around, crying and moaning through the contractions. He kept saying "labor pain is good pain, just remember that. Contractions can't be stronger than you, they're a part of you"; I would have told him to shut up if I could hear him over my crying, lol. I remember saying to him "I can't do this anymore. I need something" and he would tell me I can do it, I'm strong, but if I really felt like I needed it to call my nurse. I procrastinated it because even though the pain was unbearable, in the back of my mind I was conflicted. I KNEW the birth I wanted and I KNEW the route I was about to go. Around 4:30 a.m., I gave in and called my nurse in. "Are there any types of pain management I can have right now besides an epidural?" I asked. She said she'd have to check me and let me know from there. "PLEEEASE don't!" I whined. It hurt enough when they did it and I wasn't contracting. She said she had to. I was informed that I was at a 9. "With you being this dilated, there's nothing we can do. You're almost there," she said and left. Tom said "looks like you're getting the birth you wanted after all". I could've punched him. The next 15 minutes or so were agony. Instead of breathing, I moaned, screamed, cried. Instead of relaxing my body, I grabbed onto the bed rails, flailed my arms, hit the bed. I started feeling the pressure, I knew it was time. I called my nurse and screamed "HE'S COMING", but she was taking her sweet time calling the doctor, getting things ready. "NO SERIOUSLY I CAN FEEL HIM COMING OUT". But, he wasn't really, lol. I was just in panic mode. They set me up in the stirrups, everybody got situated while I laid there crying and screaming. Then they told me I could push. I was so relieved and excited, I beared down, pushed and screamed as hard as I could. But, that's not what I was supposed to do! I did that twice more before my doctor said "okay, Taylor, you need to listen to what we're telling you to do. Or, we could take as loooong as we want here." Something in my brain clicked. I stopped screaming, I stopped hyperventilating. I looked at Tom while my nurse said "okay, with the next contraction you need to hold your breath and push, then relax and breathe until the next one". I got it right the next time (this is when I started to feel myself pooping, bahahaha. Poor doc) and the next time. I started to feel the baby crowning, I DID NOT want that to last long, so with the next push I got his head out. Almost had a heart attack when they told me to stop pushing. I heard the doc suctioning out his nose and such. "I want you to look down here, you've never seen a baby boy be born before", he said. I thought to myself it can't be much different than the girls, but whatever, lol. Two more pushes and all the pain disappeared. None of the previous pain mattered. My boy was on my chest, screaming in my face. Healthy as can be; my first baby to not be rushed off to the NICU. "Hi, sweetie pie!" were my first words to him.
Gabriel Vincent was born at 4:54 a.m., January 19, 2013 weighing 6 lb 7.7 oz and 20" long.
And now, at almost 1 month old:
(Excuse the yellow, the lighting in our house suuuucks, lol)
Thanks for reading