It was foggy the morning our son was born, so even the weather seemed to say that this day was going to be different. And it was. It was the best day of my life. I imagine someday when my son or anyone asks about that day, my story will go a little something like this:
I checked into the hospital to be induced during the 7 a.m. hour. My admission wasn't dramatic with contractions, water breaking, Lamaze breathing or a speeding wheelchair ride. Brian and I held hands and grinned, ready to begin the process that would lead us to the long-awaited introduction to our son or daughter.
We had planned ahead and packed a few movies, a good move. The morning was rather uneventful as we waited for the pitocin to force my body to have contractions. We watched "Princess Bride" because one of the characters had the same name as the one we had chosen should we have a son. At noon, things were progressing too slowly. So a doctor broke my water for me. This baby was in no hurry to make his grand debut.
After a long afternoon of resting, visits from family members and observing increasing pain and the frequency and intensity of contractions, I started the real work of having a baby around 8:30 p.m.
One story that we love to tell: In the midst of pushing, my doctor scolded Brian. Apparently his "C'mon babe! You can do it!" prompts were becoming too loud and energetic for our doc. Our labor and delivery nurse even asked Brian if he had been in organized sports, based on his coaching phrases. "She's got to be able to hear me," our doc told my hubby. (Brian won my heart all over again for his commitment to being The Best Labor Coach Ever.) We were an amazing team.
Two hours later, at 10:38 p.m., our son entered the world. I'll never forget the sound of Brian's voice as he gushed, "Oh my God, babe, we have a son!" We had picked out the name Westley James in October 2009, but it still sounded so new on my lips as we greeted him. His entrance had been a little scary: His umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and shoulders. A NICU unit was on site to assist, and little Westley didn't cry loudly when he was first born. It was a frightening few minutes. As the experts were helping our little 8-pound-6-ounce, 21-inch-long miracle, my temperature was spiking and my body was in shock. But with God's love and grace, both baby and mommy proved to be just fine.
Brian and I spent some quiet time together with our son before inviting our parents and his brother to meet Westley. We were exhausted and happy beyond words. A few of the photos we snapped that night and into the early morning:
The proud daddy with our little boy
Mom and Westley
My parents, Westley and me
My brother-in-law Eric and Westley
My parents-in-law, John and Janice, and Westley
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