The morning of August 2, 2009, dawned clear and beautiful. Daddy and I were up very early to be at the hospital by 5:30 a.m. Nana and Papa were here, apparently not sleeping very well, if at all. Daddy also didn't sleep well the night before. I had no problems sleeping, which was the first time in many days, if not weeks, that I slept peacefully.
When we got to the hospital, it was not because I was already in labor or that my water had broken. You, dear Steve, were not in any hurry to come into this world. So, it was a scheduled procedure called an induction. I would be given medicine to jump start contractions, the doctor would break my water, and hopefully before too long, you would arrive. The medicine, called pitocin, was started around 7:30 a.m. and my contractions very rapidly became painful. I did have a little bit of time to relax, talk with Daddy, and finish reading the 7th Harry Potter book (for the 3rd or 4th time).
Before too long I was remembering the strategies we had learned in our birthing class to help ease the pain and discomfort of each contraction. Grandma arrived, followed shortly by Nana and Papa. I don't remember a lot about this part of the day, just that the pitocin was really working (the nurse kept turning the dosage up) and the contractions were wrapping around my midsection. I was in a lot of pain. I also got sick somewhere in here because I decided to have a red popsicle (I was starving). Red colored foods don't agree very well with people on my side of the family when we're in the hospital. Around 1 or so, I finally couldn't take it anymore. I requested the epidural, which is a different kind of medicine that numbed me from the middle down to my toes so I wouldn't be able to feel the intensity of each contraction. When the epidural kicked in, I took a nap. Little did I know that this nap would be the last decent sleep I would get for days. It was a good nap.
The rest of the afternoon, after I woke up, was filled with visits from Grandma, Nana, Papa, and Grandpa. They were in and out of the room, just like the nurses and doctor. At one point, we were all discussing who had played in the last Super Bowl and college football championship. Somehow, I knew the answer to both of those (Arizona Cardinals v. Pittsburgh Steelers, and Florida Gators v. Oklahoma Sooners). We also watched the Brewers play the Atlanta Braves.
At one point, you decided you didn't like the pitocin very much. I had to shift positions on the bed and the dosage had to be lowered a lot to keep you safe. Because of this, it took a little longer to get you into this world.
I don't remember what time it was, but I think it was around 9 p.m. when I thought, and said, that I was feeling quite a bit of pressure and would like to push. The doctor was on her way and the nurses were getting everything ready, including the "cheeseburger warmer" (Daddy called it that). Papa, Nana, Grandma, and Grandpa came into the room and got me ready for kick-off by shaking their keys (this will make sense to you later in life). Then, they all left for the waiting room to *patiently* await the news of your arrival.
I only had to push through 5 contractions, which was about 15 times, and you were here at 10:04 p.m. A healthy baby boy, which we hadn't known until you arrived. I'm not sure what happened in the next few hours, but I do remember eating a turkey sandwich. I was starving and that was the best the hospital could do. There were hugs and kisses from Nana, Papa, Grandma, and Grandpa. Lots of pictures. Lots of newborn baby snuggles. Learning how to breastfeed.
I had waited 9 long months, plus a couple of days, to meet you. And now you were here. In my arms. Absolutely perfect, handsome, and tiny.
Happy birthday, Steve. We love you and are so happy that you belong to us.
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