9 lbs., 8 oz.

21 inches

Hospital

Mother's Height: 5' 3 1/2"
 

I began prelabor three weeks before the baby was born. We’d been cool, laid back second-time parents, so nothing was ready when I got hit with three hard contractions one morning. We got the car seat and cradle ready fast, but nothing happened. That began the roller coaster of prelabor—contractions would usually peak around 3pm and 3am, but they never progressed. I repeated my doula’s words over and over: they have to get longer, stronger and closer together to be the real thing.
 
After two weeks of prelabor my three-year-old daughter went for vacation with her grandparents, so I could concentrate on keeping my emotions steady. She had a great time! I was free to walk, eat or sleep when I wanted to. About two weeks before he was born, the midwife felt his head and said he “felt like an eight pounder!” In that last week, we had three visits to the hospital to have the baby monitored, two with ultrasounds to check the fluid levels. The last one was on Monday morning. By then, I had lost the mucous plug days ago, and had five days of diarrhea. I was so ready to have the baby, and struggling with the thought that I was somehow stopping labor.
 
At the end of the visit, I was 5cm, with one-minute contractions coming every six minutes. The midwife said that I’d be more comfortable at home, but that they’d save a room for me!
 
I ate dinner and went to bed. At midnight, I woke up and went to the bathroom. There was lots of bloody show, but I fumbled around for my paperwork to see how much I had to have to be in real labor! I’d just found the paper when I was hit with a drop-to-the-floor contraction. I made it back to the bedroom and woke my husband from my hands-and-knees position. I stayed there through the strong contractions while he called the doula and then tried to find the right pressure to rub my back. I still felt my sense of humor through all of this—to the point of laughing (inside) when my husband couldn’t decide whether to get dressed or rub my back!
 
I was really uncomfortable and firmly in transition when the doula arrived and immediately coaxed me into the car for the drive to the hospital. But through it all I felt so strong and conscious and proud, very healthy and in control.
 
We got to the hospital at around one in the morning, and a group of nurses escorted us down the hall, with me dropping to hands and knees when I needed to. I felt like a celebrity with an entourage! The doctor of the practice was on call that night rather than my midwives, but at that point I knew he would only catch.
 
I was nine cm when I got there, and I felt a clear change soon after. I rested a bit, they broke my bulging bag of waters and then I felt the real pushing contractions begin. I squatted and pushed, feeling the baby slide down my tailbone almost effortlessly. I was safe, with my husband on one side and my doula on the other. I saw all the feet of the doctor and nurses lined up doing nothing, waiting for me, and I felt so in charge!
 
I was worried about crowning because I hadn’t felt it the first time, but it was just a stinging feeling. For the last push, the doctor insisted that I be on my back because the baby might be big. It wasn’t what I would have chosen, but my son was born easily anyway. When I first saw him, I thought, “Wow! What a big baby!” He was born at 2:34am, 21 inches and 9 pounds, 8 ounces. Like my daughter, he had meconium in the water and was suctioned, but then he cuddled right up and started eating.
 
The nurses were wonderful, allowing us to co-sleep and calling me “super mom”. I didn’t really feel like I was super-mom; I just did what I was meant to do. But it was nice to hear.
 
As soon our daughter woke up, she brought her brother the gift she had picked out and our new son spent the morning surrounded by loving parents, grandparents and sister.
 
I only had slight tearing along my episiotomy scar, and it healed easily.