If you've given birth, you will know that doing so is one of the most momentous moments of your life. Not only because you bring in one of the biggest blessings you'll ever experience, but also because it is slightly traumatizing and a whirlwind of a moment! 

So it all began at 12:45am, Saturday, December 16, 2017. Stephen and I had just walked back in the door after dropping off a friend at her home after a girls' night at my house. 

Stephen said something funny. I laughed. Yep, I laughed and there she was. 

No. I wish. 

I laughed, and there my water broke. Just a little at first. So little in fact I just thought I'd peed myself--which had not happened up until this point, even being pregnant. Just putting that disclaimer out there. I do not frequently urinate myself. But it was just a little, so I told Stephen with a puzzled look on my face, "I'm not sure what that was. I may have just peed myself. I'm going to go check." I got to the bathroom, and I still wasn't convinced one way or the other. 

So I came back downstairs, and it happened again. Except this time it didn't stop.

I stood in the middle of the den, legs spread, towel underneath me for like 10 minutes waiting for the water to stop flowing. Everytime I moved, more came out. Everytime I stayed still, it would stop. It was awkward. Not gonna lie. Pregnancy and giving birth removes any dignity you might have. Just fyi. 

I eventually grabbed a kitchen chair to sit in, don't want to ruin the upholstered furniture, and waited to see what else might happen. About 20 minutes after my water broke, I had my first contraction. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't terrible. Took a little breath away, but when it was done I am pretty sure I told Stephen, "I think that might have been a contraction." 

Soon after that I figured out it was only the beginning, they would get worse. 

Stephen stayed up with me for a little bit, but apparently I eventually told him he might want to get some shut eye upstairs since it was probably going to be a long night. 

I say apparently because I do not recall telling him this. Pretty sure I wanted him by my side the entire time. Especially once the contractions got worse, I totally get the whole "You did this to me!" cliche labor scene on TV and movies. I was wondering how he was sleeping through my groaning, because it was some pretty loud groaning.

Honestly about 50% of the contractions weren't awful. I could have probably talked through some of them, and while they hurt I could manage. 

The other 50% about broke me. 

It's hard to look back and think that it was as bad as it was, because memories fade quickly. Very quickly. I just know that at times I could feel the contraction coming on, I could tell it was going to be worse, and I would find myself jumping from a sitting position to quickly pacing around the room attempting to "run away" from the pain. No lie. I wanted to hop out of my skin. 

Worse of all, when those particular contractions would start, I would know they would be the rough ones. Not only were they the rough ones, but they would also last the longest. My other contractions would last 1.5-2 minutes, these could last from 3-5 minutes. Yes. Yes. That apparently is a thing, at least for me. 

Also one of the sad moments in this contraction business was realizing that when they say to wait until they are 5-7 minutes apart before going to the hospital, that 5-7 minutes is from start of one contraction to the start of the other. Not from the end of one to the start of the next. Which means that my little "break" in between on some of these would only be 1-3 minutes depending on how long the actual contraction before had lasted. Not cool. 

At about 6 am, Stephen came downstairs to check on me for the second time. I told him they were starting to get a little more regular and the window of time was getting closer for us to go to the hospital. Stephen contacted my mom, and she pretty much told us to get to the hospital. So at about 7 am we left our house, me in pajamas with a towel underneath me (because I was still leaking part of my water). 

We pulled up to the ER, Stephen grabbed me a wheelchair, and rolled me in. One of the volunteers passed me a form to start filling out while Stephen parked the car. Mind you, they want you to fill out a form while you are experiencing contractions. I don't feel that this man completely understood the situation (he's a dude, right?), because he didn't seem to understand why I was pausing while writing at times. But by the time I finished the form, Stephen had made his way back in and they wheeled us very quickly from the waiting room to one of the assessment rooms.

The nurse asked me if I was in labor. I told her I was. Very doubtingly she asked me if my water had broken. I explained that I thought so--I mean I had no idea why it was just trickling out like it was, so maybe it wasn't the real thing? After I changed into different clothing and gave her a pee sample, she checked my cervix.

8 cm dilated. 

"Oh, yeah! You are in labor. Not sure we need to wait for that pee test result." 

Quickly they rolled me down the hall to a labor and delivery room. It was huge. I mean like super huge. Weirdly huge. I think you could possibly have multiple women in there, which would be odd.

Anyways, they began hooking me up to IVs. I told them about the Strep B and that I would need antibiotics for it. They quickly informed me then we better get them in quick because it takes 4 hours to get it all in your system before baby comes--excuse me?! The first shocker was that they thought baby be here in less than 4 hours! Second, I would have come in sooner if I had known that. I knew I need the antibiotic, but no one told me I needed it at least 4 hours beforehand. Lesson learned.

The nursed asked if I wanted an epidural. Up until this point I'd assumed I'd say that with a big fat "YES!", but after hearing I was 8 cm already I felt empowered somehow. Like maybe I want to do this all na-tur-ral. I asked the nurse if I should take it, which she informed me that it takes 30 min to prep me to get it, so might as well start the prep and then I can decide. Sweet 30 more minutes to decide.

But very quickly, maybe 3 or 4 contractions and 20 minutes, the nurse checked me again and I was 10 cm dilated. It was go-time. Doctor had yet to arrive, but the nurse told me to lift my legs, Stephen to hold one while she held the other and to push.

All I could think was "Oh crap. How bad is this going to be?"

But after two pushes, the nurse didn't feel like something was right.

She felt around, asked for an ultrasound, and pretty soon told me baby was breech and we were going to have to do a c-section. Trust me the next few minutes were a pretty big blur. A c-section was not on my radar as a possibility, and especially when I'd asked the doctors multiple times about Camber's positioning, and up until that day they'd all decided she was in the correct position. I was speechless. Shocked. And I quickly began to tear up and cry.

The C-Section

Just as quickly as they had told me I was going to have a c-section, they were wheeling me down the hall.

Funny side note. My parents were on their way to the hospital, but figured it'd still be a while. So they stopped to pick up breakfast for themselves and Stephen. Stephen called to let them know we were pushing, and so they boogied on over. Right as they completed the ultrasound, my dad turned the corner around the curtain and BAM! I was there all open for the world to see. Yep. Just creating memorable times with my dad.

So I said goodbye, that I loved them, and we'd see them with a grandbaby soon as they rolled me down the hall to the OR. They prepped me for surgery, got Stephen clothed in the hallway (I had no idea where he was at this point), and soon I began to feel the spinal tap kick in because my contractions slowly disappeared. Soon Stephen was in the room with me holding my cold shaking hand (yay fluids), and the staff wrapped me in a blanket to stay warm.

As we waited for everything to be ready for surgery, I asked the nurse how they would know if everything was numb enough before they started. He told me, "We pinch you really hard. We'll know then. Plus they've already started." I couldn't see past the curtain, so I looked up at the surgical light they were using, and sure enough I could see a very deep pink reflection of something glaring back at me. So glad it was a blurry image.

The nurse talked me through a lot of what was going on. Why I was cold. What they were doing. How close we were. And at 9:10am, as soon as I heard that little girl's cry, I cried. They pulled the curtain down some, and showed us our beautiful little girl! Man was she pretty. So much hair! I knew that heartburn wasn't in vain! It also felt so surreal.

Our New Life

Unfortunately Camber hadn't expelled enough of the fluids in her lungs, c-section problems, after she was born, so they had to wheel her away as soon as I saw her.

There wasn't that perfect moment I'd hoped for. The one where they lift her from below the curtain draped across my knees, umbilical cord still in tact, and lay her on my chest so I can hold her for the next hour, just the two of us. Instead, I could see her here and there as they tried to get the fluids out of her system at a nearby sink and table.

After about 5 minutes they brought her to me to see her closer. Stephen held her next to my face, as I was still hooked up to multiple things and couldn't hold her. I kissed her sweet face, and they took her away to finish taking care of her. Not the perfect moment, but perfect enough because this was THE moment.

About 30min to an hour later, they had already rolled me into a recovery room, they finally brought her to me for a little bit to let me try and nurse her. We laid her on my bare chest, and eventually we got to try BF out.

That's a weird sensation. Ain't gonna lie, it's taken a while for me to enjoy BF. But with a little coaxing she did nurse some. Again, they came and got her to take to the nursery within about 20 minutes.

Every time she left, Stephen left. He never let her out of his sight. I was flooded with photos later on of Stephen carefully watching her any moment he had. Anytime they moved her in the nursery, he moved windows just to be closer. He was there hands on anytime they let him. That's a good daddy there.

They rolled me to our room that we'd live in for the next couple of days. My mom quickly joined me. The spinal tap was finally wearing off, but as a result of it my face was itching like crazy. They offered me a Benadryl which I took, because it was driving me nuts. Next thing I know I am fighting with all I am to try and stay awake. Normally it does nothing to me, that day it did. I remember trying to talk to Chad and Philip feeling like I could barely formulate words. So drunk happy.

I fought the sleepiness as long as I could, and I think eventually I took a small nap. Next thing I know I'm surrounded by Stephen, and they finally brought me my girl.

The next few days were a beautiful blur. The happiest days of my life for sure. Compares to the same feeling I had during Stephen and mine's honeymoon. Just bliss. Nothing could touch us or our happiness. I remember thinking if I could just stay in that room all my life, I'd have all I need.