Here is the post you've all (two of you), been waiting for! The story of our precious Winsy's timely entrance.
First of all, I'm the girl who wants the baby to come as absolutely soon as safely possible. With Margot I drank a tablespoon of castor oil at 37 weeks, 5 days gestation because I just couldn't be stuffed full of baby any longer. She was born approximately 4 hours later. [Looking back at this scenario, I realize it was pretty selfish/risky of me to act on the impulse of not wanting to be pregnant anymore. Shame on me.] With Winston, the whole bed rest thing had me thinking 'any day now' since Thanksgiving. Imagine my delight to wake up every morning still stuffed with baby boy while trying to maintain a ready-to-drop-everything-and-go household. Right around Christmas time I was 35 weeks and given the okay to move about at will. Not that I was willing to move about a whole ton (there's a pun there because that's roughly how much I weighed), but it just felt good knowing the risk factor was now low. There were certain dates that I thought would make good birthdays- 1.1.14 or 1.7.14- so I got wound up those days, only to roll myself back into be each night like a barrel full of monkey. At my last appointment before dude was born I was dilated to 5. Five! My doctor told me she was confident I'd have that baby within the week. That was a Thursday, Winston came Monday- the perfect birth date- 1.13.14. Not only is it a great number to jot for the rest of his life, but it's my dad's birthday, too! Well, dad's last number is a 59. ;)
Enough with the prequel. Here's what happened.
Irony-- around 1:15 PM Monday I was at the computer typing out a note to a gal who was also due to have a baby any day, when my water broke. I've not had this happen at home before, but for some reason I was really in tune to the possibility this time. I had a slight panic, called Andrew, and frenzied around the house a little trying to get things in order. My in-laws live next door and had been so graciously on call for these last couple of months, so when Andrew's mom saw him drive in she came to see if this was it- yes!
At the hospital-- I still wasn't having any painful contractions, so I was nervous about it being a false alarm. (That happened with Margot by way of false labor- total buzzkill.) But this time the nurse said I was at a 7/8 and not going home. Cue hallelujah chorus. I told that sweet nurse I wanted an epidural STAT, so they started some fluids and I got the blessed meds.
The doctor-- my OB doctor's husband is also an OB doctor, and he was on call while she was working at a different clinic 45 minutes away. Mister Dr. (or is it Doctor. Mr.?), was my man through all laboring and checking and IVing. When I thought it seemed like time to rock and roll, he said his wife just arrived and would scrub in. She walked in the room, he tied on her gown, and said, "I'll go get the kids." What a team. Seriously they were both so fantastic. (And punctual- Winston was in my arms minutes after she got there!)
Winston-- 7lb. 7oz., 19", 5:25 PM. Eating like pro, pooping like a pro, and sleeping like a pro. He's only 1.5 weeks old, so plenty of time to get messed up in all of those categories. I'm definitely tired, but still enjoying this limp little bundle of baby love.
