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On February 11th, 2019 at 8 am I rolled my very large self out of bed when I heard the knock of my three-year-old twins at my door. When I stood up I thought I wet myself. I rushed to the restroom thinking I must have had to go really bad only to find that after left the bathroom I continued to "wet" myself. A lot. Panic washed over me: my water had broke! I called Will, who was on his way to work, told him to come back. Frantically I roamed around the house in a chaotic daze, completely thrown off by the whole event, trying to collect my bags for the hospital. I wasn't in labor, nor was I anywhere close to being in labor, but my water had broke.
We made our way to the labor and delivery floor of our hospital, and very much like how it happens in the movies, my water kept coming. I spent hours in triage. By 11:30 am the doctor finally agreed that yes, indeed my water had broken and no I was not showing any signs of going into labor. The plan was to get me into a delivery room and induce me. My wonderful delivery nurse tried to do a few none medicinal techniques to induce labor, involving the birthing ball and a giant ball shaped like a peanut, none of which helped, so Oxytocin it was.
I laid in that hospital bed for hours. Sleeping here and there. Watching Fixer Upper between periods of sleep. I had chosen to get an epidural and by evening it had started ware off. I was sleeping when I was suddenly awakened by extremely strong labor pain on my right side. It was so swift and so strong it had me in immediate tears. Hours went by and my body slowly progressed towards being ready to deliver. The major thing was Little Nugget was facing the wrong direction. They told me that typically they'd have me up on my hands and knees to help deliver a "sunny side up" baby but I had an epidural and wasn't able to move into that position. By 10 pm I was FINALLY ready to push. But I was exhausted, by that point it had been over 24 hours since I had eaten or drank anything. I was weak and hangry and super emotional. I would push but felt like I wasn't actually doing anything. I was lightheaded and definitely not in a mamma-warrior-going-to-push-this-big-backward-facing-baby-kind-of-state-of-mind. After an hour of pushing and hardly any progress, they called in the big guns (the attending doctor) to assess. He was a no-nonsense kinda guy. Just when I thought we were done pushing and going to head in for a c-section, he commanded me to start pushing again. In between pushes, I broke down sobbing. My epidural was really waring off this time (and for good) and I was beyond what I thought my body could handle. The attending gave me a really nice, tough love kind of "pep" talk. It hurt my momentary delicate feelings but gave me the nudge I needed to get this baby out.
He kept yelling at me to silently push harder and harder, and I did. Finally, I released out a cry in pain as I pushed with all I had. That particular push hurt like a real mother, and I thought to myself if he yells at me to push one more time I'm going to lose it. My eyes were closed in exhaustion and then I realized everyone was excited and no one was yelling at me anymore, I opened my eyes to find a super dark haired little boy laying on me. No wonder that last push hurt so bad, this beautiful giant head of gorgeous black hair finally broke free. After an eternity of pushing (an hour and a half) my nine pounds, four ounces, 22 inches of sweetness was finally here and I got to eat the best turkey sandwich of my life.
Meet Keller Ezra, the boy I didn't know I desperately needed in my life.
