birth day.

My brain is already turning into mush from the lack of sleep and energy that comes with caring for a newborn.

Wow, what an adjustment.

Our little bit is now 17 days old (my, how time flies) so I better pen the details of December 13, 2012, the most beautiful and magical day of my life, before they are long forgotten...and before Brooks wakes up.

The night of December the 12th, I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. However, no wake-up-call was needed. I awoke bright and early on the 13th, 2:45 to be exact, with a mind racing with both excitement and fear and a heart beating with eagerness to meet our baby boy. To see his face. To explore every detail of his entire being that I had been dreaming about since the day that I found out that I was pregnant.

I wanted John to get as much sleep as possible so I tip-toed out of the bedroom and did what I do best: clean. At 4:15 I decided that it was time to shower and start getting ready for the big day ahead of us. John was soon to follow. By 5:30, our hospital bags were loaded up in the trunk and the car seat was locked in place. It was time to make our way to the hospital. Backing out of the driveway, a wave of emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. With tears welling up in my eyes, I looked over at John, grabbed my belly, and said, "Well, this is the last time we will be pulling out of the driveway as a family of 2." With a smile, he reached over, grasped my hand so tight and held it, which immediately cast aside all fears and anxieties. Gazing out the window into the dark, my heart felt peace.

Upon arrival at the hospital we headed up to labor and delivery on the 3rd floor. We were unsure of whether or not I would be admitted immediately because I was technically on a "waiting list," so when the nurse told me to head through the double doors where I would be greeted by my nurse-in-training, Jamie, I was overwhelmed by the same feelings of fear and excitement again. This was it. There was no turning back now.


At 6:15 we entered Room 3009, the delivery room where we would meet our baby boy and he would greet the world. I changed into my hospital gown and took a look around the room. I wanted to remember it all. The clock above the door, the halfway drawn curtain, the empty bassinet. I crawled into the bed, hospital gown wide open in the back, and stared out the wall of windows. It was calm and the sun was rising. What a picturesque morning. Thank you, Lord, for your beautiful handiwork and for reminding me of your Presence. I want this day to be centered around you. Give me strength, emotionally and physically. Be with me, be with John, and be with Brooks as he transitions into this world. 

At 6:40, I met my other sweet nurse, Katie. She stood over Jamie as she drew some blood and inserted my IV.  Dr. Stradtman arrived shortly thereafter and examined me—at this point I was only 3 centimeters dilated. At 7:30, she broke my water. Whoa. She wasn't kidding when she told me that I had a lot of amniotic fluid. A lot was an understatement. Within minutes I started progressing. At 7:36 the nurses started me on Pitocin and at 7:39, my contractions began. They first started me at a "6", which was too much. My contractions were immediately very painful and getting stronger and stronger. They decided to lower the Pitocin drip to a level 4, but I was still contracting every 2 minutes—sometimes straight through (as soon as one would end, I would begin another...OUCH)—so they brought it down again to a level 2. Two hours later, my contractions were so intense that I wanted to know my pain relief options...epidural being the last. RN Katie called and spoke with Dr. Stradtman, who advised against inserting pain medication into my IV because it would slow down my progress and make baby tired, which meant longer labor. Epidural it was.

At 10:25 the anesthesiologist arrived and John was asked to leave and come back in 20 minutes. When he walked back through the door I was a different woman! Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, if you will. The contractions had dissipated and I was all smiles. I did have a slight burning and aching in my right leg, but it was better than the pain that I felt 30 minutes ago. At 11:18 they put my catheter in and decided to check me again to see if I was making any progress. To my surprise I was 6, almost 7 centimeters dilated! The nurses rolled me over to my side around 11:30 and I attempted to get a little shut eye. However, I started to feel a lot of pressure and back pain. My nurse, Katie decided to check me again and boom—9 1/2 centimeters at 12:00!

By 12:35 it was GO-TIME! I started pushing, but mid-way in the nurses asked me to stop so they could get the room ready for Brooks' arrival. 20 minutes later (yes, 20 minutes of having the urge to push, but not being able to), I was given the thumbs up to begin pushing again. At this point, I could mildly feel my contractions coming and going so I knew when it was time to push and would gear up by grabbing under each thigh and pulling my chin to my chest. Unfortunately for John, my right leg was completely numb so he had to "man" that side of my body. I started crowning before Dr. Stradtman arrived so again, the nurses asked me to stop pushing until she got there. It was so hard not to push. I was practically clenching, trying to keep him from coming out! Within seconds, Dr. Stradtman arrived and at 1:44 p.m. with encouragement from John and one final push, so did Brooks. At that moment, I had an outer-body experience. It was the most emotional and joyous moment in my life, a moment where he was the only thing in this world that existed. My heart exploded.

Nothing can prepare you for the first time you lay eyes on your child. Everything about that moment moved me. I wish that I could bottle it all up—the emotions, the commotion, the tears of pure joy, the sounds, the love, the look on John's face, the feeling of Brooks being placed in my arms—and keep it with me always and always.

He was beautiful, perfect, and healthy; everything that I could hope for or imagine. Praise God.

On December 13, 2012, our lives were forever changed...

...and we continue to fall more and more in love with our son every day. It's possible, trust me.