This post probably isn't necessary since I'm pretty sure all of my readers (can I even pluralize that?) have already seen pics on Facebook, but it'd be weird ignoring the birth of my child, so here we go.
Despite assurances by my doctor that I wouldn't make it to my due date on the 16th, I made it to my "scheduled-just-in-case" induction on the 18th. We finally got to the hospital around 10:00 P.M.. Yes, P.M. I'll spare you the details, we'll just say it was a busy day for deliveries and I kept getting pushed back. But on the bright side, we got to fit in one last movie in the theater that we hadn't planned on. (Green Lantern was okay, but I love you, Ryan Reynolds!) Also, I wasn't the lady down the hall, screaming bloody murder as she had her baby in the toilet of the delivery triage room because she barely made it to the hospital in time.
Me when we checked in. One last belly shot.
They started me on the pitocin around midnight, broke my water around 1:00, and gave me my epidural an hour or so after that. We tried to sleep for a little while after that (I tried, Jim succeeded), then the "real" labor started and after a few pushes, I had him at 4:47 A.M. About the same difficulty level/"hard labor" duration as Sam, but the waiting for "hard labor" to start was MUCH shorter this time.
I can't remember if this shot was pre- or post-birth, which is why I'm including it--to illustrate how FREAKING awesome epidurals are. I've never experienced natural childbirth, but I can hazard a guess at how painful it is based on the pre-epidural labor pains and the post-labor carnage. But I can smile through it like that, and even enjoy it, because of the joys of modern medicine. Really, when the epidural was in full force was the most comfortable I was for weeks before and after birth. Yay, drugs!
So after I start pushing and the head starts to appear, the conversation in the delivery room goes something like this:
Jim: "Red hair?!?!"
Me: "Shut up."
Then the doctor/nurses verify that he's not pulling my leg, and we start wondering where in the heck in our families of blondes and brunettes a redhead would come from. As this discussion is going on, I keep pushing when told to.
Dr.: "This is going to be a pretty big kid!"
Me: "Really?" (Internally I'm remembering how the entire pregnancy, the doctor has been giving me size estimates, based on the ultrasounds at each appointment, in the 7-8 pound range. At my appointment two days prior, he measured at 7 pounds. But I don't want to call the doctor out on this and distract him from his efforts to save my lady bits from total destruction, so I abbreviate it to the oh-so-articulate, "Really?")
Jim: "Look at the shoulders! They're huge!"
Nurses: "This is a big baby! How big was your last one?"
Dr.: "I'd say he's going to be at least 8, 9 pounds."
Me: See above internal dialogue, which I now translate into a puzzled expression and a "Wha?"
After a couple more pushes and some skillful maneuvering by the doc, out came Mr. Max James Hill.
The official measurements: 22 inches long, weighing in at 10 lbs. 1 oz.
My reaction when they said the weight (flattering pic, I know--I'm pretty sure some giant stuck their hand in there--I refuse to believe that's mine).
After a little cleanup (the hair is more strawberry blonde, not flaming red)
Jim is slightly excited to have a man-child...
And Sam has been a fabulous big sister.
It's been sort of a sleep-deprived haze since then, but we're settling into a little more of a routine. He's a little more alert now (I think this was at 2 1/2 weeks)
And for the most part he's very patient with the loving attentions of his sister.
Max is a sweetheart and we're so excited to have him in our family!
