Wednesday, January 4, 2012


August 1st started out in a rush.  I woke up early and quickly realized something felt really weird.  In my groggy state, I stumbled to the kitchen, made coffee and started a roast in the crockpot before I realized what was different:

I was having contractions.  Coming 5 minutes apart. 

They weren't very strong.  They didn't last very long.  But because I wanted a vbac, I knew my doctor wanted me at the hospital when my contractions reached 5 minutes apart.  So, I timed.  And they remained.  I took a shower.  And they remained.  I called the doctor and he said to come in.  And they remained.  I called our sweet friend, Hope.  And they remained.

We headed to the hospital and... well, they spaced out.  About 15 minutes apart.  We checked in to the hospital anyway since they were expecting us and for the next few hours they remained at 15 minutes apart. 

Wherein I cried and asked to be sent home, since I was barrelling toward another c-section.

My sweet sister and niece were almost to our house anyway, so they decided to come for a visit.  So they played with and watched the girls while I tried to rest and nap -- all the while contracting every 15 minutes.  We played.  We ate.  We laughed.  We went to Amy's Ice Cream.  And watched Food Network.  It was a fantastic time with some of my favorite people.  It would have been even better if those annoying contractions wouldn't have kept coming, especially since they kept getting stronger. 

We went to bed much too late, but we didn't want to leave the fun.  Mark joked that my water would break around midnight.  I told him he was mean and fell asleep.

Until 11:50pm. When I leapt from the bed as fast as a 9-months pregnant lady can leap. 

My water broke. 

Mark is some kind of prophet. 

Doctors were called.  Sisters were informed.  And the road to the hospital was driven again.  Where this time I would check in to stay and finally meet my little man.

I met the absolute best labor and delivery nurse in the entire world.  And saw the on-call doctor again (my doc had the night off).  They were both very encouraging when it came to the vbac.  And the natural birth I hoped to have.  They let me roam the halls and walk and move around as much as possible.  They completely made the experience.  After praying for months for a great L&D nurse, it was amazing to see God's answered prayers. 

The labor experience was tough.  But God is good.  Mark was amazing.  We prayed together and he read scripture over me.  He encouraged me and didn't let me quit even when things got hard.  It was such a sweet time of proclaiming that I needed God to get through the pain.  And I needed Mark, my God-given husband, to support, protect, and love me.  For such an independent and self-sufficient person like me, it was humbling and a huge learning experience.  I wouldn't trade it.

My mom came in around 9.5 centimeters.  She jumped right in and helped me through the last bit.  She was amazing.  And then it was time...

The doctors and nurses let me take control.  It was the coolest experience to feel my son being born.  And then he was there.  And he was healthy.  And he was ours. And my first words were "Thank you, Jesus."

Dean Mark born 8/2/11 at 6:26am.  He was 7lbs 9oz and 21inches.

He got to hang out on my chest for almost an hour. It was easily one of the best experiences of my life.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

How sweet! Thanks for sharing the story and loving the formula-like blog name. What would M(4)+D equal? :)