Welcome, Baby Maxwell

Exactly one week from today, down to the hour, I was at the doctor's office one day before my scheduled 39 week visit. After several exams, I was wholly assured that I am not in labor and that my cervix is indeed closed. So I uncomfortably hopped in a cab, where the driver admitted he was new to the city and proceeded to take a longer route home, while trying to engage me in the politics of Palestine and the weather in China. 

Less than 45 minutes after returning home, I began feeling some mild pains, which I later realized were Real Contractions and not Braxton Hicks. Since I hadn't experienced any Braxton Hicks yet, it seemed unlikely that I would start labor so quickly just two hours after the doctor's determination, but upon a friend's suggestion, I began timing them after a couple hours. That's when I realized the pains contractions had intensified and were three minutes apart and lasting a minute each.

Shit. 

That's usually when you're supposed to already be at the hospital, content with your epidural, and not just starting to call the doctor's answering service for advice. (Which is what I was doing.) The Fella had returned home from work around 6:15pm to find me doubled over on the floor. Thinking I was just being the wuss I am, he seemed hesitant to believe these were anything but Braxton Hicks, and even the doctor on call seemed skeptical, given the notes from my visit to the practice just a few hours earlier.

The rest of that evening is a blurry whirlwind. I remember The Fella going through the motions of checking our hospital bags for last-minute items, stuffing down a few bites of his dinner, making me a PBJ for the road (which I never got to eat, btw), and our neighbor-friend driving us to the hospital as delicately as can be done on the potholed streets in the city of Chicago. Before I knew it, I was whisked through triage, then to the labor and delivery room where I begged for more ice chips and yelled only minimally at the anesthesiologist to give me the epidural already. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Once I had the epidural, I was a whole other person! I remember sinking into total bliss––clicking that little button stringing from my bedside to release the drug was my happy place. I even blogged for PinkMemo from my delivery bed. Between 8pm to midnight I rapidly accelerated from 2 cm to 10 cm and was more than ready for active labor, judging by how the OB exclaimed, Wow, I see the head already!

It took a total of about 30 minutes to push him out, in about 12 to 15 pushes, from what I can remember. I didn't even break a sweat, although I remember slightly panicking and instructing The Fella to bring me a hair tie before beginning pushing. Pretty lucky, right? I can tell he's going to be a good kid. 

And that's how Baby Maxwell was born exactly a week early at 12:41a.m., 6lbs 7oz, 19.5 in. I feel so blessed to have delivered this beautiful little guy who's been cooking inside me for 9 long months. I was ready to meet him, but nothing could have prepared me for the incredible wonder, love and joy I felt at that very moment the doctor held him up under the light.

{ Baby Maxwell }