Not so.
But anyway, here's how it all happened:
Monday morning the doctor told us to expect some frustrating times to come. He said at this point in pregnancy, you're pretty much waiting for the baby to decide when he wants to get here. And since I was still only dilated 1.5 cm, there was a good chance we were in for some serious down time.
So that afternoon, I baked some bread, did some laundry, sewed the last stocking, and wrapped the rest of the Christmas presents. Then I took a three hour long nap. Then I got mad at Kade for letting me sleep so long.
That evening, I went to Walmart for some last-minute stocking stuffers after I dropped Kade off at school. While I was wandering the aisles I was finding it increasingly difficult to walk normally during what I thought were Braxton Hicks contractions. Eventually I noticed that some of them were painful too--and that my hips were screaming as if they were broken. But I chalked it up to the exam my doctor had given me earlier, he said I might feel some pain later on. The contractions weren't frequent or regular by any means, but they were uncomfortable. So I hobbled over to the register, purchased my items and headed home to wait for Kade to let me know when to pick him up.
When I got home I was contracting more and more steadily. I didn't tell Kade though, because I was skeptical that this was anything real, because of what our doctor had said earlier, and because movies taught me that labor was something like dying, and I was feeling ok. But just in case, I took a shower, dried my hair and put some light makeup on. Then we went to bed and I tried to let Kade sleep.
But I couldn't sleep at all, and I realized that hey, maybe I should just start timing these to see what's going on.
From 11:30 to about 11:50 they were coming every 7 minutes. From 11:50 to around 12:05 they were every five. Then Kade rolled over and said "We go to bed way too late."
I replied, "Well, we might not go to bed at all tonight."
We got up and started throwing the rest of our things into our hospital bag, but only just in case, because I still wasn't sure this was it. I was contracting every 4 minutes, and they were getting pretty painful. So we left for the hospital around 12:30.
When we got there I was still skeptical this was really happening. I felt like I was too calm to be in labor. If I were really in labor, I would be screaming bloody agony, weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth sort of thing, right? I told Kade they might still send us home, so he shouldn't get too excited. But I took off my clothes and put on my gown and laid in the bed while they took my vitals, checked my cervix, and monitored the baby's heartbeat and my contractions.
After twenty minutes, the nurse said we were there to stay.
I was dilated to a 3 for a couple hours, then to a 5 and 100% effaced an hour after that. I asked the nurse how much longer she thought I'd be, and she told me a couple more hours to dilate to a ten, then a few more after that to push. That's what they usually expected from first time moms anyway.
45 minutes later I was 10 cm dilated and my body was very ready to push.
And I pushed for about a half hour.
It was the newest emotion I had ever experienced when I felt that baby's head finally pop through. The doctor held him up and the ceiling lights shone down all over his long matted black hair, his perfect tiny body, his daddy's unmistakable nose. I remember thinking of course that's what he looks like. Like I had met him before and had only forgotten. I knew he was always meant to be mine. He let out a loud wail and tears poured down my cheeks. I cried out of relief that he was healthy, joy that he was finally here, and pure terror that I would somehow ruin this perfect little guy.
I waited patiently while the doctors cleaned him off, took his measurements, and stitched me back up. I watched as Kade held him, walked him around the room, took him to the door to show our parents. He was one proud dad. And finally, after what felt like hours, I was finally handed my baby boy.
I always knew he would look like his dad, but once I finally had him in my arms, I was surprised how much he looked like me. He got my tiny little eyes, one slightly bigger than the other. He got my wrinkly forehead, and he raised his little eyebrows super high just like I did when I was a baby. He had the same long dark hair that I had. He got my long toes and big feet.
I always thought it was so incredible how much a baby could look like either one of its parents. Not often does a brand new baby only look like one or the other. But I was still amazed at how Jonah was the perfect combination of both Kade and I. Like he was the something missing that would really fuse our relationship together.
When we took him home, I expected to still be nervous. People were always telling me how I wouldn't believe they would let me take him home. We had no experience with newborns. What were we going to do? How would we know how to take care of them?
But for some reason, I wasn't nervous. I was anxious to show my little boy his new house, his new bed, to take him home and love him uninterrupted by nurses and CNA's and various tests. I kept thinking about something one of my good friends said a few months ago when I was feeling particularly nervous.
She told me, "You're going to make a great mommy. You'll be surprised at how naturally it comes to you, to take care of your baby. After just one day of having him, you'll wonder how you ever lived without him."
And she was right. It came so naturally. When he cries, it's like I instinctively know what he needs and can give it to him. Kade, too. And he's had almost no experience with newborns, being the youngest child and one of the youngest grandchildren on both sides. I'll admit, I was worried that I would be correcting him all the time, like I had to teach him everything. But I was relieved to realize that I needed him often. Kade changed his first few diapers, Kade learned how to bathe him and wash his hair and had to teach me, he calmed Jonah down instantly when he had to lay under a heater for a while. (The nurse told Kade to come talk to him because he wouldn't stop screaming. The minute Kade was by his side talking to him, he was perfectly fine.) And Kade will wake him up during the day when I'm too big of a sucker and want to just let him sleep. Kade alone is the reason he sleeps so good at night.
Since being home, like I mentioned earlier, it is amazing how many hours can quickly pass by while I'm just holding my baby guy. One minute I'll be just waking up and getting him out of his bassinet, and the next minute it's lunchtime and I've just been talking to him, watching him, snuggling him for the entire morning. Sometimes I'll be waiting for him to fall asleep so I can throw a load of laundry in or make the bed, but once he does, I can't seem to put him in his bed. I just want to hold him forever.
Another good friend once told me that whenever she gets depressed or life gets rough, she just sits back and remembers how it felt to hold her newborn babies. She remembers their smell, the little sounds they made, and it never fails to make her feel better.
I can completely understand that now.
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