Here's Thomas!

Thomas was born on August 25, the grand finale to a miserable pregnancy that I hated from the start. Though I loved the baby, my mind and body just couldn't stand being pregnant.

The puking was erratic. The SPD began breaking my pelvis at week 16. That lead to back, hip and leg pain and made any kind of exercise impossible. I became allergic to strange things, like pizza. By 30 weeks I began to fantasize about having an emergency C-section. A week or so later I was diagnosed with polyhydramnios - too much amniotic fluid. This enabled me to freak out about all the additional ways I might lose my baby. Could the placenta detach? Could he get strangled by his cord? Could he JUST DIE???! I panicked. Polyhydramnios made my tummy huge and so cumbersome. Rolling over was a joke. Picking up dropped items was for fools. Once it hit the floor, it stayed there until Steve came.

I spent my third trimester sitting on the loveseat. I. Just. Couldn't.

My midwife told me to prepare myself to go overdue - can you BELIEVE her?? - but there was no way I could do that. I tried not to slay her with my eyes. I was certain he'd be out by August 15 and that I'd be able to watch the Rio Olympics while in labor. What a fantastic distraction!

Pretty much on cue, I had bloody show on Saturday, August 13. See? I was right. I told my mom, and she debated beginning her 14-hour drive. She stayed home that night. The next morning I had larger clots, cramping and back pain. Mom hit the road.

By that evening, everything had stopped.

My midwife, Lindsey, was off Monday, buy she asked me to go in to the office that morning. The midwife on duty said I hadn't dilated more and, even worse, that my baby was sideways! What! She immediately scheduled me for an ECV - external cephalic version - to put the baby in head down position. That was supposed to happen three days. Since an ECV can be painful, the plan was to give me an epidural first. After I recovered, they'd send me home to await a spontaneous labor.

Now, I'm not dumb. Of there's an epidural, there needs to be a baby. Ain't no pregnant Carol going to the hospital and getting an epidural without getting a baby. No. They'd have to make it happen. Besides, with all that water, there wasn't any guarantee that my baby wouldn't just revert back to laying sideways.

I was torn - secretly relieved that my wait was over but sad to lose any control over my labor. Plus, my least favorite midwife was going to be the one to deliver my baby that day. Ehhh.

Mom was downright mad. She hated all the interventions and the sudden change in plans. Still on the road, she insisted I call my (fantastic) chiropractor. As soon as Mom pulled in the drive, she and I went to the chiro. Dr. Jessica used the Webster technique to inspire the baby to move. It was painless. I felt the baby move into the head down position as I climbed back into my van to go home.

On Wednesday, an ultrasound confirmed what I'd felt - he was head down! But he was also 10.5 pounds, the technician said.

But where was the labor? I went back to the chiropractor to have her push all the pressure points that can provoke labor. I had hours of contractions that night, but they stopped. Two days later, I went again to my chiropractor with the same demand. I had false labor again that night. And another night. I walked with Mom in the mornings. I'd hear her take phone calls in her room from coworkers. "No baby yet," she'd say, and I'd cringe. How could this be happening? It was a unique anguish - to have had enough signs of labor to get my mother to leave her home and her job but then... Nothing. No baby yet. I felt I'd made a big mistake.

Finally, I woke in the night to potty at 2 a.m. on August 24. I was leaking fluid. It was unmistakably amniotic fluid. I was ecstatic. Contractions came. I sat on the birthing ball. At 4 a.m. I woke my mother. At 5 a.m. I called my midwife. At 7 a.m. everything stopped. I went back to bed.

I went to my regularly scheduled doctor appointment at 11 a.m., having erratic but frequent contractions. My midwife said I was dilated to a 3 and 80℅ effaced. Yay! An ultrasound revealed that the baby was head down. Yay! A bulging sac of water was under his head, getting squeezed with each contraction. Because of the polyhydramnios and the risk that the baby could trap the cord under his head, they wanted my water to break in the hospital. That way they could monitor his heart rate and avert disaster if it came. Lindsey declared me in labor and sent me to the hospital. My contractions became much more painful.

Throughout my pregnancy, Lindsey promised third babies come quickly and this would be a speedy labor. I fully believed her. Why not?

After three hours of laboring in the hospital, in and out of the tub, I let the attending midwife, Jamie, break my water. My labor intensified again and moved into my back. That was excruciating. Three hours later, midwife-in-training Marie checked me and said...

"She's a 3, and 80% effaced."

Nothing could have been more discouraging. All those hours of labor?! WITH NO CHANGE???!

I gave in. I demanded an epidural, and fast. I got one, and the pain left. My body shook on and off for hours. I had to receive fluids to keep my blood pressure up. Eventually I was a 4, then a 6, then I hung around at 8 for a while. It was dark outside. Nurses changed shifts. I ate Tums like crazy and sipped water. So thirsty!

At 11 p.m. my body was finally ready to push the baby out. Of course, another laboring mom was already pushing at that time, so the midwives were not available. I waited thirty minutes.

When my turn came, I pushed with all my might and felt no change at all. Again and again... Nothing. And again. Suddenly I stopped mid-push because it felt like there was air in my tummy. I thought I might burp? Within minutes I was puking, rejecting all my Tums and precious sips of water.

"Don't worry," my midwife said. "That's very effective pushing."

Finally the baby was crowning. FINALLY!!! Jamie said he had red hair. Not possible! I was sure she was wrong. We worked carefully then to push out his head without causing any tearing. When his head came out I was watching in the mirror. It. Was. Huge.

Thomas was born at 12:30 in the morning. I cried and rejoiced. During my miserable pregnancy, I'd decided that the first hour after he was born would belong solely to me. I didn't want him washed or weighed or wrapped. I just wanted him. They allowed me to hold him for 2.5 hours while my epidural wore off. Even Steve didn't ask for a turn. When I offered to share the baby, he said no - I should keep holding him.

It was heaven.

When I let them take him, he weighed in at 9 pounds, 9.9 ounces. He was 20 1/2 inches long. And yes, his hair was red.

And that's the story of how nine terrible months ended with 22 hours of labor and gave me the cutest, happiest red-headed baby the world could imagine. I LOVE him.