Birth stories are some of my favorite to write. I had some very interesting experiences when delivering the girls, which you can read here (Kate) and here (Megan). Unlike the other two, I was determined NOT to go to the hospital early only to be sent home. Both Kate and Megan were born a few days ahead of their due dates (5 and 4 days, respectively) and so as the week before Damon's due date arrived, I expected the little bugger to make an appearance. Sooner rather than later, of course. Don't most moms? We all get anxious as that date arrives, and God has helped us to overcome that anxiety and be ready for delivery by allowing us to be huge and horribly uncomfortable. We are READY to deliver, because we can't possibly survive one more day like this. Right? Oh the drama and hormones. Lol.
Like with the girls, I had false labor during that week. Unlike with the girls, I did not sound any alarms, call any grandmas, or go to the hospital. I waited. Impatiently, but I waited. So, on July 28, when I started with false labor in the evening, I hopped on my big exercise ball and watched tv. And then went to bed. Contractions woke me up a few times, but nothing kept me up. Just made me tired enough to be extra cranky. 😉 My mom knew I was getting restless and agreed to come up and hang out with the girls and I and help out some. I continued to have contractions throughout the day on the 29th, but nothing consistent, and none of them gained intensity. After naps were done, I decided we needed to get out of the house, so we hit the library. I did the steps a few times, hoping maybe I could encourage these contractions to mean something. As we got ready to leave, I sat in the car and breathed through a contraction. My mom asked me how far apart they were. 3-5 minutes or so. I wasn't concerned. I didn't have to stop what I was doing to make I through them. It wasn't time yet (secretly, I was pretty sure we were getting closer, though!). When we got home, we played a little and I started to get dinner ready for the girls. As I was prepping one of their plates, a contraction came on that made me stop and bend over. I paid a little more attention. They were coming every 2-3 minutes now, and were making me stop. So, at 6 pm, I called Matt at work. He didn't answer, he was on a traffic stop. But he soon called back, and headed home, very excited and rushed. I was in no hurry. I know how my labor works. It takes its sweet time.
We got checked into triage and they checked me. I was at 3 cm and they wanted me to walk the halls so they could make sure I was progressing. This was when the laughter started. Matt and I walked the halls that evening, among visitors coming to see babies, who likely didn't want to see a woman actively laboring. We just laughed and laughed. At one point, I stopped to hold onto a railing in the hallway to breathe through a contraction, and Matt pushed on my back where it hurt (I always have back labor). I immediately groaned a good groan and said, "oh yeah. Just like that." Matt responded with, "that sounds like how we got into this mess". 😂😂
We got checked and admitted. I was progressing. Worked through contractions for a while and called for the anesthesiologist. I know myself. I love and want the epidural. It's ok. I am not a lesser person for it - or so I tell myself. We chatted and talked with the nurses for a while and just relaxed. I took a nap, as it was getting on 10-11 pm. This stayed the same for a while. At 12-12:30, I was checked and was at a 9. They decided they'd wait to call the doc. I slept a little and listened to tunes. Around 1-1:15, I was fully dialated, and just rested while Damon made his way down. I got ready to push shortly after 1:30.
I forgot to mention - we had our FAVORITE OB. He was the OB who held our hands while we mourned our lost babies and did every test and "voodoo" medicine he could think of to help us get Kate here safely. And we had never had him in delivery. We were so happy to have him! He is very laid back and has an amazing sense of humor. Exactly what I wanted in my delivery room.
We were in a teaching hospital, so a resident was set to catch Damon. Dr. Wilson was standing by, LITERALLY leaning on my stirrups. Hilarious. I pushed the first time and while I rested between pushes, he joked about me naming our son James after him. I started laughing. The resident told me if I laughed any harder I would laugh Damon out, which only made me laugh harder. Push #2 went well, and another joke between pushes. As I laughed, the resident's eyes got big, and she said, "well, honey, you did it. You laughed your baby's head out. Go ahead and push. The hard part is done." One more push and he was here at 1:45 am. He was skin-to-skin with his mama for a long hour - and nursed within the first 15 minutes like a champ.
He finally got to go see his daddy around 3, and there was so much pride.
So, my beautiful, smiling, crazy, busy, ornery, happy boy - now a year old. Almost.
Named after our dear friend, Damon G Winkleman, who had one of the best laughs I've ever heard. And every time he laughs and smiles, I think about how he got here. I laughed him into this world. Doesn't get much better than that.
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