Yada yada yada... and now we have a son

I’ve been meaning to post on our blog for quite a while. Specifically, for one year, ten months, and twenty-six days. I even wrote a few posts while I was pregnant that are now, so sad for you, completely obsolete. Unfortunately, the world will never enjoy witty, sophisticated blog posts such as those entitled:

"Ergo I am Preggo"

and

"There’s a baby in my belly but, no, I didn’t eat it"

During the first trimester, I found being pregnant convenient for making excuses like “I can’t feed the dog or take out the trash because it makes me throw up.” Of course, I found it inconvenient for times when I had to feed the dog or take out the trash and it made me throw up.

MY PREGNANCY IN A NUTSHELL:

I first found out at the doctor’s office. I began crying so hard (with happiness) that I became faint. I can’t remember the exact way she put it, but the nurse told me (please imagine this in a loud, thick dialect) that I was an even whiter girl walking out of there than I was when I walked in.

When Chris found me at the door waiting for him when he got home, he thought I looked sheepish. So sheepish, that he first asked me if I had been hiding in order to jump out and startle him but had accidentally startled myself instead. His second guess was that I was pregnant.

Cravings: Sweet nuts, like honey-roasted peanuts… that’s how I knew we would have a sweet baby boy. J

Favorite part about being pregnant: The little kicks that felt like a gentle tap tap tapping at my core; only this, and nothing more. No, I actually loved every second of being pregnant.

Absurd recurring thought: I kept thinking how strange it was that he was completely naked in there. I mean, of COURSE he should be naked, it would be weird if he weren’t, but it’s still funny to have a little naked baby swimming around inside of you.

LABOR:

The whole idea of labor did not even cross my mind until about a month before my due date. Then I started to get really nervous about the logistics of the whole operation. Not to be obscene, but a baby is much bigger than a penis.

When I imagined childbirth I imaged the scene when Carrie is at prom covered from head to toe in blood. It turned out to be nothing like that:

April 6

6:30-7:30 pm

Prenatal aerobics

8:30 pm

Tomato and zucchini soup with grilled cheese for dinner

10 pm

Fleeting thought as drifting off to sleep… “I should probably pack my hospital bag soon…”

April 7

2 am

Water brakes. Chris tells me I should go back to bed. Thinks I am being “dramatic.” I disregard his flippant attitude, turn on the lights, and try on different outfits for the one that makes me look like I just rolled out of bed but am so cute all the time that I just happened to have on this adorable combination when I went into labor. Pack my bag full of Jolly Ranchers and labor information pamphlets (worst bag ever - had to spend time unpacking all those untouched Jolly Ranchers as soon as we got home). E-mail professor that I will not be able to present final project in class as planned. Still have some time before I have to get to the hospital so throw a load in the wash and the rest of the dirty clothes scattered on the bathroom floor in the hamper, secretly knowing that Ryan and Audrey will be impressed by how effortlessly tidy the place looks when they pick up Paddy. FYI: They were!

4 am

Arrive at hospital. Totally calm and collected, but a little disappointed at my wasted effort when nurse tells me to take off my outfit and put on the hospital gown. 3 cm. Laughed after the first really big contraction at how “real” it was.

6:30 am

Stopped laughing after contractions. Did not appreciate perceived attitudes of those around me. Requested epidural.

6:45 am

Felt like I was on top of the world. Everything was sunshine and roses. Watched “Best in Show.” Laughed really loud, out-loud at the funny parts. Had no idea labor could feel like a lazy Saturday afternoon.

7 am

Chris cancels his Duke interviews scheduled for that day. We also cancel Paddy's appointment to be Fluffinated.

8:30 am

10 centimeters. OB keeps calling me a “rock star” because I’m already at 10 cm. Because only Ariel Merritt and rock stars dilate so quickly.

9 am

Receive text from Harry asking what date I want for the baby due-date bracket. Am reasonably confident I have it in the bag.

10 am

Begin pushing. Start playing music on computer. Nurse and Chris flip-flop me into all kinds of different labor positions, such as what would turn out to be my favorite “water-ski” position (feels like vacation), despite numb legs. In good spirits until 1:30 pm; then seconds away from calling it quits, walking myself right out of that delivery room, driving myself home, and going back to bed.

2 pm

OB says she is “nervous” because the baby's head is tilted in a funny way and caught on my pelvic bone. Decides we should use the vacuum, a nerf-like suction cup placed on the baby’s head. Calls pediatrics team to standby in case of emergency. There is an unsettling rush of white coats into the room.

2:11 pm

Our baby is born. One of the best moments in my life was when I first heard Jude’s cry. It truly was a miracle to see the quiet idea of the baby inside of me suddenly alive, breathing. The blurry OB (from tears) walked our pink baby to the top of the bed. She placed Jude’s warm, perfect body on my shoulder, where I wrapped my arms around his tiny, exposed body and he peed on me. He was so small, helpless, and beautiful. I felt waves of elation and exhaustion, but mostly deep feelings of thanks and gratitude for the tremendous wonder of the birth of our son.

Watching Chris hold Jude for the first time I cried at Chris’s tears, and at my incredible fortune to have this wonderful man look at our healthy child with a mixture of marvel and tenderness.

Jude Karlsson was born 6 pounds, 5 ounces.

To Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.”