Our first Christmas gift.

3 o'clock in the morning on December 2nd and suddenly I could no longer sleep through the contractions I'd been having since, oh, first trimester.  I began timing my contractions using an iPad app and got up to get stuff done.  Tim opted to stay home since there was a good chance we'd be having a baby that day and he's near impossible to reach at work.  I puttered around the house, my contractions 10-15 minutes apart until about noon, when the range was between 5-8 minutes apart.  Though my contractions were painful, requiring that I employ my best Bradley technique exercises, they were irregular, and, having had false labor with three of my four children, I lingered at home not wanting to get sent home from the hospital because it wasn't "the real deal".  By one o'clock, though, I was doubled over in pain, but my contractions were still not the 5 minutes apart I'd been advised were necessary to head to the hospital(I'd been through this whole labor thing how many times?  You'd think I'd know better).  So I said a little prayer asking Heavenly Father to please make it obvious when I was to go to the hospital.  My next two contractions were 3 minutes apart.  Off we went.

We got to the hospital, settled into a room, was attached to a monitor for 3 contractions, cervix checked(I was dilated to a 5, only one centimeter more than I had been the day before at my OB visit). I asked them how soon I could get an epidural(I was already done with the whole laboring thing and, having had three unmedicated labors decided that I was too old and tired to do it again).  They told me to walk around for 45 minutes and they'd check me again, admit me to the hospital(wait, what?), and administer an epidural at that point.  Remember how I was doubled over in pain with each contraction?  Worst news ever.

We paced the halls for a few, then filled the prized jetted tub which I had never before enjoyed because my babies had come before I could set foot in them.  Wow was that an experience for which I was grateful!  It was divine(if any part of labor can be considered so).  The nurse checked me again, dilated to a seven and said dumbly, "Okay, we can admit you now and get an IV started for your epidural."  P.S. I have nothing against nurses in general but, to be honest, they are not all created equal.

The ensuing 45 minutes entailed three pokes for an IV, one poke for an epidural, many agonizing contractions and the inevitable failure of the epidural to take effect before having to push(which is the part that freaks me out and which I was hoping I could dodge this time around).  I should have known better.

So I felt every stinkin' bit, bringing my grand total (of natural labors) to four.  And I didn't even get the luxury of not having an IV, getting up and walking immediately after delivery.  But really, what does all that matter when you get to greet this bundle of deliciousness?  All six pounds fourteen ounces of him.

Instant love, I tell you.  Welcome to the world, Jack.