It's not even a good one... but I already have one of those and am very happy to say that this one will bore you.
On Monday, 3 days past my due date, I had a doctor's appointment in the morning. They asked if I was having contractions (I have been for a month!) and they asked if I wanted to be checked (ummm.. yeah. I'm 3 days PAST MY DUE DATE!). The doctor checked me and said I was dilated to a 3 and about 70% effaced. She told me I could just wait for things to happen, or she would admit me and induce labor. At that point, although I really wanted NOT to be pregnant anymore, I was really, really scared about being in labor and having a baby and recovering from having a baby. So, Tom and I talked about it, and he made the very good point that it was going to happen sometime, so why not today when our doctor was the one on-call and we could plan it all out. We told the doctor we were in and headed home to pack our bags.
As soon as we got home, I started having really hard and regular contractions. We grabbed our stuff, told my mom and Addison our plan (have a baby today), made Addison put his laundry away, took the lint roller to the couches, wiped down the fridge, loaded the glasses on the counter into the dishwasher... got told to hurry and that I probably didn't need to worry about all of that right now, and headed to the hospital.
Once we got to the hospital at about noon, we headed to labor and deliver where the sweet wife of the 1st counselor in our bishopric just happened to be at the check-in. I'm not sure what she's in charge of there, but she's in charge of a lot, and she handpicked my nurses for the day. She told me she texted the 2 people she wanted to be with me and one was working that day, so they secretly assigned her to me. She was great! I know the doctor is important and everything, but really, it's your nurse that makes the difference! I don't really care who catches the baby, as long as he gets caught. I do, however, care who makes sure my epidural button works every time I push it. They checked me again there and I think I was at a 4. My doctor came and said she was just going to break my water and it wouldn't even be considered an induction. I was scared, again, to have my contractions get any harder, and my doctor asked me if I was ready to call the anesthesiologist. Thanks for asking, and yes I am. She made the call and, really apologetically (I'm sure because I had told her at every visit for the last 2 months how I really wanted an epidural just as soon as I could get one. I mean, really, just hook me up when I walk in) told me that he was just starting a C-section and it would take 30 to 40 minutes. That seemed like a very long time at that point because I think contractions hurt, but I really couldn't complain about only having to wait 30 to 40 minutes... and then I started thinking about the fact that this was one doctor telling me about how long another doctor would take, and I thought, "in doctor time that could be at least 3 hours." But no! The anesthesiologist showed up in about 45 minutes, which meant he was really about 2 hours early. He kicked Tom out and started telling me everything that could possibly go wrong and how many ways I could potentially die. Luckily, my nurse had warned me of this endearing trait of his, and he didn't scare me at all. In fact, at that point, all of the risks were worth it. Spinal headache? Fine. Neurolgic disorders? Great. Paralysis? Sign me up. He was very no nonsense, and in the end it turned out he even had a personality! We ended up discussing our mutual shellfish allergies. He said, "do you eat it anyway?" I considered saying no because I thought I might get a list of ways in which I would eventually die from that too, but he said he ate it anyway, and we talked about how we both throw all caution to the wind sometimes and eat crab legs.
I did have one little moment there right after I got the epidural where they laid me on my back and the weight from the baby made my blood pressure drop really low and I couldn't hear anything and I passed out for just a second. I just remember saying, "you guys are all under water," and then I woke up to Sister Vasher rolling me over onto my side. Then I told her she saved my life. I've only been in this ward a couple months, and she really doesn't know me that well, but I'm guessing I gave her an accurate first impression of me.
So, once the epidural kicked in life was good. It was around 3:00 and I had dilated more and was moving along fine. The next 2 and a half hours passed pretty uneventfully. I think I tried to sleep. I read some of my book. Tom and I chatted about... I can't remember. Anyway, at about 5:00 they checked me again and said I was at a 7. Tom called to update my mom and told her it would be a while and to just head home (she and addison had been out to dinner, etc.) The doctor came in and was told I was at a 7. She checked me and I was at a 9. She then debated about whether or not she should go running. Of course, she reasoned, if she did, I would dilate quickly and be ready to push; but if she didn't, she would just wait around and miss her chance to go running. Well, I didn't really care as long as someone was there to catch the baby, but I really like my doctor and thought it would be better if she were the one to take the handoff. She and Tom talked about running for a while. She's doing the Salinas Valley half marathon, by the way - the same one that Brit and Paul are coming here for next weekend. At some point in all of the running talk, she decided to just have me try pushing. Now, I never really had to do that with Addison because rather than catching the baby, the doctor decided to take him right out in a very rude manner, so I was scared. to. death. But, they gave me instructions, which I failed at on my initial try. I got better though, and it only took about 4 or 5 contractions for him to pop right out (that's how it works right? They pop!) To hear Tom's description, because he was watching every gory detail even though I told him not to, I was giving birth to a baby goat, but it turns out I delivered a sweet and perfect baby boy. He had had a bowel movement before he came out, so there was a little concern about him aspirating the meconium, but he was fine.
We called my mom and told her it had gone a little faster than expected and that the baby was here. Visiting hours for kids are only from 5 to 8, and Noah was born at 6:50. So, by the time Tom called it was 7:15. We told them to hurry and get there before visiting hours ended. When they came, Addison and Grandma loved on the little guy for just a bit and then had to go.
After everything got all taken care of and cleaned up, they wanted to get me up to go to the bathroom. I kept saying that my right leg from my hip down was still numb, and when I say numb I mean you could have stabbed me with an ice pick and I wouldn't have felt it. I told them about this, but I think that they thought I just meant numb as in, I probably wouldn't feel it if a fly or even a spider was crawling on my leg. The nurse grabbed me from one side, my good side, (is that really the best idea? To support the side that works??) and I fell off the bed. I got back in bed and she told me not to try that again. Uh, thanks. We ended up staying in the delivery room until about midnight to see if the feeling would come back, but it never did. They finally just moved us over to Mother/Baby. The feeling didn't come back until the morning. I had fallen asleep at about 5 and woke up at 6:30 with pain in my hip. I figured the feeling had come back, but they told me that I shouldn't get up unless I called them and had them help me even if I felt like I could. I called them, but they never came, so Tom helped me up and I was fine.
We spent the rest of that day trying to remember how to feed, dress, change a baby while he got poked, examined, tested. Everything was perfect with the little guy, and I kept marveling, and still do, that with everything that can possibly go wrong from conception to birth, how most of the time, things turn out just right. How can I be lucky enough to have 2 healthy, wonderful boys? I guess it's because luck doesn't play a factor at all and that these little spirits need bodies to live in. I know that things don't always turn out just right for some reason, and no matter what body my child's spirit was given, I would love it and cherish it. Today, though, I'm grateful for this little body on my lap and the spirit that lives inside it.
Dean and Amy and Jen and Brad and Addison went to the aquarium. I love these kids. They have so much fun together. I wish we could all live in a commune and they could play together every day. 
And just for kicks, here is Noah with a vice grip on Addison's nose. Addison couldn't be a better big brother. He loves that baby so much and can't get enough of him... even when Noah threw up on him (THREW UP, not spit up) the other day and he sat there calmly and tried to get him settled by attempting to put his binky in his mouth (maybe not the best solution with throw up everywhere, but a good effort) and calmly telling me that I should hurry and finish the dishes and come get the baby. Cute boys... love them both. 