1 Week: Labor Day(s)

Since Mary had such an uneventful, easy pregnancy, I guess I suspected her delivery would be just as smooth. I was wrong.

Warning to all women: eating barbecued ribs causes you to have a baby.

On the evening of December 27 we were walking through Beacon Hill on way home from eating ribs when Mary's water broke. When we got home we called the hospital. We were told to come in. We did, in fact, walk to the hospital, finally putting to rest the much-blogged question of just how I'd get her there when the time came. Good thing we didn't buy a car.

High-level time-line is as follows:

• 10:30 PM, Dec. 27 - Arrive at hospital, wait 2 hours for a room.
  
• 12:30 AM, Dec. 28, for 21 hours - Mary lies in a hospital bed hooked to an IV, and receiving increasing doses of pitocin, to induce labor.
• 9:30 PM , Dec. 28, for 3.5 hours - Intense, painful contractions. Epidural administered.
• 1:00 AM, Dec. 29, for 2.5 hours - Pushing.
• 3:23 AM, Dec. 29 - August is born!
  

So it was basically 24 hours of tedious, uncomfortable waiting around, followed by 3.5 hours of pain, followed by 2.5 hours of hard, painful, exhausting labor, followed by August.

I learned a new appreciation for Mary that day. She worked really hard during the pushing process. I would have expected most people to take a little break from time-to-time, or to give it less than 100% effort when things got tough, but she never paused once, even toward the end when the pain & pressure were excruciating, despite the epidural. There were moments when she was brought to tears, and still didn't back down. I was completely distressed to see what labor was doing to her. And I was completely unable to help her.

When August finally came out I was shocked to see how big he was. I had seen glimpses of the crown of his conical, little head, and had been thoroughly unprepared for how huge a baby my poor Mary had just delivered. I think I said "oh my god!" and got all teary eyed to see him. He was beautiful, and pink and crying loudly, almost immediately. I was really overcome when I saw him. He didn't have any of the splotches or fur or vernix-covering new parents are told their newborns might display. He was perfect, and I remember thinking "what a strong-looking little chest he has!" He was good looking!

After a minute I was encouraged to go see the boy, who had been moved to the heat-lamp thing. I had wanted to stay with Mary because... well, she had been through a lot. The kid was crying loudly, as I say, with a "maah! maah! maah!" noise I thought was really quite wonderful, because it was so clear and loud. And who knew he'd be able to make an M sound?

I know it's cliché, but it was truly one of the most important and memorable moments of my life to watch Mary deliver our son. I'll never forget it.