7,6,5,4,3,2,1 - Happy New Baby!

So, as it turns out, those Friday contractions were right on! I don't want to spoil this for you, but, you were born on February 27, 2010 at 5:51 pm in the evening! A full week ahead of your due date, but right on time-- because we just couldn't wait to meet you any longer.

It was a pretty interesting Friday evening and Saturday morning leading up to that big event though.

Your Mom and I were pretty convinced that the contractions would be slow and infrequent through the weekend, so we went ahead and had dinner and played games with your Godparents on Friday night.

All through dinner, your Mom had infrequent but pretty powerful contractions. But, when we asked her if we should go home, she said "No, they're not that bad." As it turns out, they WERE pretty serious, but your Mom really, really wanted to go to Pink Berry.

She enjoyed her fro-yo and then we retired back to Casa de Weinstein for some Boom Blox (that's a video game on this antique called a Nintendo Wii).

Around 9:00, your Mom decided that the contractions were getting close enough together to warrant doing some timing. At that point, I started a page in my journal keeping track of the contractions.

The rest of the evening and the next 20 hours or so went a bit like this:

Contractions at :

• 8:45
• 8:56
• 9:06
• 9:17
• 9:29
• 9:37
• 9:48
• 9:51
• 9:55
• 10:00
  

Etc, etc, etc...

As the contractions go closer and closer together, we started to realize that this was actually going to go down...and soon.

So your Mom managed her contractions while I became a whirling dervish and cleaned the kitchen, finished packing THE bag, getting pillows together and keeping a list of the contractions.

I also took the last known picture of your Mom pregnant with you in the wee hours of Saturday morning, making it officially the 39th week picture.


Not too shabby, considering that we started out like this, on week 8:

As February 26th turned into February 27, your Mom called the doctor to tell her what was happening. The doctor recommended that we stay at home as long as possible to be as comfortable as possible. We abided...and tried to hang on as long as possible.

So we tried to get some sleep. I blew up the air mattress and we turned out the lights. With each contraction, I'd turn on a flashlight, note the time and watch in awe as your Mom muscled through. This lasted for 2 contractions.

Then we decided to watch some TV, and coast through the contractions. This lasted for 2 contractions.

Concurrently, around midnight your Mom started rating the contractions with Tourrettes-like finesse :

12:33 was "BAD"
12:44 was "getting stronger"
12:59 was "Worse! JESUS!"
and 1:10 am was "Jimminy Christmas!"

At 1:24 am we left for the hospital. I hit every bump on the road accidentally. But, I drove safely and we got there safely, if not a little painfully.

At 2:18 am we were checked into triage unit and it was confirmed that she was dilated 3-4 centimeters.

I asked the nurse if we were admitted to the hospital. She said "Definitely."

So, off to Room 7 we went, where your Mom was hooked up to machinery and continued having stronger and stronger contractions, all without medicine, as per her wishes.

How does this story end? Well, we already know the beautiful end result.

But for the thrilling conclusion, you'll have to tune back in later.

To be continued...as we waited for you:

8: Celebrate (Almost)

Remind me some day to tell you about the day where your Mom had about 4 painful contractions before noon and then I thought today would be the day to celebrate, so I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off all day at work and then, as it turned out, after your Mom's regularly scheduled doctor's appointment, that she was still 1.5 cm dilated and 50% effaced.

Oh wait, that was today? Oh yeah, it was!

But, alas, it doesn't look like today is the day!

But, you could be here any day now! We're officially on Baby Watch: 2010!

She's just having another contraction as I write this!

Contractual Obligation

Over the past couple of days your Mom has started getting more and more defined contractions.

That means her uterus is beginning its spring training to shove you out into the world!

They're not too painful, and not too frequent according to your Mom.

But, since I worked from home yesterday, I got to witness a bunch of these in a row. She wasn't doubled over in pain, but the pain was noticeable.

She had to stop talking. Her eyes got wide. She rubbed her stomach. And in a few seconds the pain passed and the conversation resumed.

I think your Mom had at least 5 or 6 of these spread out all day yesterday, and a few less the day before.

Since neither of us will ever experience any birthing contractions, I have taken it upon myself to rank where this pain lies in a spectrum we can understand: From what I can tell, the pain factor of these early early "practice" contractions (called "Braxton Hicks Contractions") is somewhere between stubbing your toe and gettin punched in the stomach. (a note of disclosure: I've never been punched in the stomach)

But the pain is nowhere getting kicked in the marbles yet. I know this because her eyes didn't even well up with tears nor did she have to crumple up into a destroyed heap of human on the floor for a few minutes to recover. (a note of disclosure: I have been kicked in the marbles)



But, good news for all, I'm sure that the contractions when she actually does go into labor will definitely rival getting kicked in the family jewels. And then they'll begin to get bad.

And I'll be there to help your Mom cope through the pain, help her remember to breathe, hold her hand and do whatever she needs me to do. Heck even if I weren't contractually obligated to do so, I still would. (a note of disclosure: it IS a contractual obligation)

I will most definitely NOT stand over her laughing as she used to do when we were in High School after she had just kicked me in the marbles. (a note of disclosure: 1) Flirtation can take on some very bizarre forms. 2) The damage to said marbles must not have been to extensive because a) I can, to this day, sing some pretty low notes and b) you're a living, growing about-to-be-born kiddo.)