seven years overdue

Anticipation. Fear. Excitement. Dread. Already exhausted. Ready for forever.

And then, I entered the hospital doors.

Paperwork overtook the emotionality of the situation, and then the pricking of needles into skin did the rest. All that was left was worry over the pain that would soon overwhelm my body. 

I don't do well with pain of any sort, but physical pain pushes me to the brink of my ability to cope. Knowing this about myself, I asked for an epidural as I lay down on the labor and delivery bed. The nurse thought she could instruct me, but I knew what going natural meant--it meant going near unconscious (I went through it with Little {D}) during delivery. I explained my traumatic experience. They put me on the anesthesiologist's list.

Then, the waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

After much waiting, the anesthesiologist came in, administered the epidural, and my first big contraction began. I felt no pain. It was a miracle.

Then, I got really cold, so they piled warmed white blankets on me. It was so relaxing that I thought I might melt into the bed and never wake up. I was so peaceful and happy--

The next thing I know, the nurses and doctor forced me to sit up and they began to rub my arms and legs vigorously. I don't recall anything else other than being so upset that I couldn't just stay asleep. I was told later that my heart rate was dropping rapidly and that was why they did what they did. 

Then, some more waiting...

Until it was time, and my sweet little guy was born.

I didn't know it at the time, but this boy has taught me how to let things roll off my back a little better and how to be calm amidst craziness. He looks like my side of the family more so than any of my other children which means I finally get to know what it feels like to have someone I created walking around reminding me of what my brothers and I looked like as children. It's strange, yet so beautiful to behold.

In memory of seven years ago, I write this slice of my sweet guy's beginning of life.

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