And one more makes four ...

.....I am finally taking the time to finish this blog on Ben's birth, which I started over 4 weeks ago......at least I have the excuse of a newborn in the house.....happy reading!

On Friday May 16th, we welcomed the newest addition to our family, little Benjamin Elliott. He thankfully arrived one week early, as I was beginning to get pretty uncomfortable and was anxious to get my body back although Jason had been working like crazy to get all his work done.

My water broke on Friday morning about 5am, but no contractions accompanied it. I called the doctor hoping that I would not have to rush into the hospital. Seems like I was in the hospital forever with Noah's birth and I wanted to stay home for as long possible this time. To my disappointment I got word that I would have to head on in. Sure, I would go the hospital but I would definitely take my own sweet time doing it. After all, we needed to arrange to have Noah taken care of, take a shower, finish packing, feed Noah breakfast and get him dressed (I wanted to make sure I got to see him before we left)and then there were dishes to do and sheets to wash. Despite all these activities, my contraction still didn't start. I kept praying that they would because I was afraid that the doctor would have the nurses give me petocin to get them started ... way too painful. Yet another reason why I was delaying heading to the hospital.

Finally by 8am, just as my parents were arriving from Sacramento, I decided I didn't want to risk insubordination so Jason and I headed to the hospital ... still no contractions. But not without one more stop ... Staples for a new pair of head phones for my IPOD and a memory card for the camera .... believe me that IPOD would come in handy. We got to the hospital where I was promptly given the traditional balloon shaped gown, which when put on, especially with a pregnant belly, looks like it could be hiding a host of circus clowns. The nurse told me to leave it open in the back, as soon as she left I told Jason to tie it up. I figured the actual birthing process was invasive and revealing enough without me having to bare by bottom to the world for the next several hours. There was also something about this particular nurse that made me want to be defiant; she had just checked my progress and teld me that I was dilated to 2 cm and that my water had indeed broken ... wow, thanks for clearing that up, not that the ounces and ounces of water that had been coming out since 5am wasn't an indication. But God is good, even when I am being a little defiant because he gave me a new nurse who proved to be an angel through the whole process.

So there I was sitting on the bed in my great big gown and STILL no contractions, "Lord", I prayed, "please let these contractions start, I really, really don't want to be induced." Not more than thirty seconds later I felt that long repressed familiarity of the infamous labor contraction. "Thanks Lord." We were on our way.

Contractions started out pretty slowly. I was hoping that I would be able to walk around with this labor and my nurse was great in arranging for this. She only required that I sit on the bed to be monitored after each hour for twenty minutes. Thankfully I did not have to sit long because my contractions seemed to slow each time I did. So I broke out my IPOD and started dancing around the room a bit ... yes dancing, which definitely helped. I had spent several weeks compiling my playlist for labor. I had all of this beautiful piano music and praise music, meant to calmly and peacefully carry me through labor. I listened to it for about 30 minutes and realized I was going to need a little more ... umph .... shall we say. On came Maroon 5, not anywhere near praise music, but it got the adrenaline flowing and kept the contractions consistent as I bounced around the hospital room. At one point Jason began filming my lunacy and no, I won't be posting it, it is far too embarrassing. Dr. Wada came in to check on me and my sister told him that my contractions slowed when I stopped dancing, "Well keep her dancing then, " he said.

Needless to say, I got to the point where dancing was no longer an option for me, contractions got pretty difficult and it was all I could do to just sit on the bed and will myself through each one. Ironically, it was at this time that Jason and my sister Jen decided to entertain themselves with an impromptu comedic performance, each playing off each other and then erupting into giggles at their own cleverness, (all the while Jenny bounced on my birthing ball, which she tried to talk me into using, and Jason slid around the room on the doctors chair.) It was all I could do not to knock each of them off their little seats. It wasn't that I was frustrated at them necessarily, it was more that I was frustrated that I could not join in their merriment because at any moment I could be plunged back into pain. So essentially, I was jealous.

Moving on...the nurse check me again and I was at 6 to 7 cm, at that point it sounded like just too little progress and I was quickly losing my desire to do this without pharmaceutical assistance. Don't get me wrong, I had no desire to be a martyr to the alter of motherhood, I just wanted the labor to go as quickly as possible. When I had Noah I had an epidural and it completely stopped my labor, requiring the petocin and drawing the labor out to where I was completely drained. I did not want to go through that again. I figured I could handle the pain if it went more quickly. In any case, I thought I would give myself one more chance, but as the newest contraction came on I told Jason to get the nurse, "I think I will take that epidural now." My nurse came in and said, "You would like the epidural now? Well I will get the anathesiologist, but do you think you may want to try the whirlpool bath? You are almost there, " she says. "NO!!" my mind screams. She goes on to tell me that she can get me through it if I chose, as she has 30 years of experience so I give in and decide to give the bath a try with the reassurance that if I was still unable to handle it after the bath, that I could have the epidural. The nurse was right on, because that bath felt wonderful. It felt so good in fact that I naively said that I thought the contractions had stopped. "Oh no she said, you just don't notice the small ones as much, but you will notice the big ones." No sooner did she say "big ones" I was gripping the edge of the tub as if I was drowning in the ocean. I definitely "noticed" the "big ones". Fifteen minutes later they were helping out of the tub because I was feeling like I needed to push.

I made it to the bed before another one hit, both Jenny and Jason offered me their hands, comedic routine forgotten, and I made up for any frustration I had at them earlier by gripping their hands as hard as I could with each contraction. Within 20 minutes the baby was ready to come out. This is the scene in the movie when the doctor comes into the room, just at the right time and sagely guides you through the final stages of delivery....except....where's the doctor? The doctor is not there yet, he is stuck in traffic. This is something they do not teach you in your prenatal classes...the doctor will always be stuck in traffic, stuck at a light, STUCK somewhere ... and the nurses, after all that effort and time of telling you to PUSH, will have the audacity to tell you to STOP PUSHING!! You want me to what?!? That baby is ready to come out, I am exhausted, I see the light at the end of the tunnel and you want me to stop!?! I do the best I can, constantly thinking,"Where is he, where is he?" and I figure if that baby is coming out, someone better catch him.

The doctor rushes into the room, finally gives me the go ahead and I actually get to see Ben arrive. After, I feel exhilarated, we made it, it was over. Ben was perfect when he arrived, no problems whatsoever. When Noah had arrived he wasn't breathing completely because he took so much time coming out, so we were blessed.

Needless to say the adventure is just beginning, we have a whole new person in our home and life is never gong to be the same...it will be a good kind of crazy. And, yes, there is such a thing...at least I hope so.